Annular

07: Drinks With a Friend

Kyle cupped his hands around the coffee mug until the heat felt indistinguishable from ice. Tiny invisible icicles pricked his palms in a thousand places when he let go. The placid black liquid cast his reflection into a void that simmered with steam. He blew into the cup, rippling his visage and transforming it into quivering waves of light.

He raised his eyes to one of the holographic projectors above the counter. Two characters battled to the death while closed caption commentary described the gamers in control of the action. The fight ended with a spectacular thirty-eight hit combo. Kyle looked to the right at a different display. This one showed a race set in outer space. The view toggled between establishing shots of the track and a third-person perspective of one of the fifty racers. Again, the commentary was more focused on the gamers rather than what was happening.

From his peripheral vision, Kyle saw someone sit on the stool directly to his right. He didn't have to look to know it was Tomás. The way he exhaled and leaned his arms against the counter was a dead giveaway. He pulled out a small envelope from his pocket and slid it across the bar towards Kyle.

"Special delivery," said Tomás.

"I told you I didn't want any," replied Kyle, looking around while he placed his hand on top to conceal it.

Tomás shrugged. "Maybe you'll change your mind."

Kyle sighed and slid the envelope into his pants pocket.

"That should be enough to last you a week or two," said Tomás, "but if you need more..."

He noticed Kyle's drink.

"Huh," Tomás smirked. "I thought coffee was a codeword for whiskey or something."

"What's the codeword for 'I don't want DOPA'?" said Kyle.

"The codeword is don't put it in your pocket." Tomás waved his hand in the air to get the bartender's attention.

The petite blonde flicked her fingers across her wristband, oblivious to Tomás. Her attention was completely sucked into the display, but she neither appeared genuinely interested nor amused.

"Just use the menu," said Kyle.

"Such ennui is dangerously contagious. I must snap her out of it," quoted Tomás from his favorite movie. "Excuse me, miss," he raised his voice and clapped his hands.

The sound caught her attention. She looked up from her wrist to Tomás' hand in the air, then back down to her wrist to swipe three more times before walking over to where they were seated.

"Broken menu?" she said with a sigh. She lifted the tablet and tapped on the screen.

Kyle took note of the deep shade of purple caked onto her eyelids. Red eyeliner accentuated the flamboyant pharaoh look, and her orange lipstick only covered the middle of her lips.

"You didn't order anything," she said.

"We prefer the personal touch," Tomás glanced at her name tag, "Amya." He pronounced her name in two distinct and separate syllables as if they were independent words. Raising his index and middle fingers, he added, "Two whiskeys. Neat."

She rolled her eyes and placed the order on the menu.

Tomás held his hand out and took the tablet from her. He placed his wristband on top until he heard the beep.

"Can you link these two menus?" He pointed at the tablet in front of Kyle. "I'll be paying for everything today."

She complied with a sigh. After tapping a few times on Kyle's menu, she placed two rocks glasses in front of them and raised the bottle of liquor. Pointing the pourer straight down, she pushed a button that shot out a perfect ounce into the glass. She repeated the procedure for the second glass, put the bottle back into the well behind the counter, then slid the drinks towards Kyle and Tomás.