Mystery in Fishnet Tights

9

Copyright 2012

~S.

Viewpoint: Relapsing Adda. She’s Gonna Need to get Really Drunk to Deal with Her Feelings

            Adda marched over to the counter and perched herself on the center barstool, ignoring the stares from the other patrons. The bartender came up to her, wiping a shot glass.

            “What can I get you, sugar?” He asked, popping his gum loudly and waggling his eyebrows, clearly implying himself.

            Adda, used to this kind of attention from sleazy, overgrown frat boy bartenders, smiled sexily. “Irish rum,” she replied smoothly. “With vodka shots on the side.”

            “Comin’ right up.” He walked away, without even bothering to card her.

            Adda looked around the bar, taking in her surroundings: the room was dimly lit, the tables were packed, and the window sills were adorned with tiny candles burning in shot glasses. She couldn’t believe she remembered where to find this hole in the wall. Emilee had been so vague about it a few months ago.

            The bartender returned with her drinks and set them down in front of her. “Drink responsibly,” he warned, without any warning in the standard line he was required to say.    

            “You know I won’t,” she said, and took a shot. She was well into her Irish rum when Tyler suddenly appeared in front of her. Tyler. She had almost forgotten he was still in the car.

            So she drove two hours for a bar she barely remembered?

            “What are you doing, Adda?” He sounded livid.

            She tossed back another shot. “Drinking.”

            “Why?”

            “Do I need a reason,” she said scathingly. “I drink all the time, remember? I can’t go two days without drinking, remember? I’m the youngest alcoholic ever, remember?”

            Tyler winced as she repeated the harsh words he had thrown at her over a year ago. “That doesn’t mean you should hurt your recovery, based on something I said when I was angry and stupid. You’re in recovery, not relapse.”

            “I’ve been in relapse for a long time, Ty.” She signaled for the bartender to bring her another round, and she drained her Irish rum the second she got it. “I just choose to dive deeper whenever I need to.”

            “You mean when you want to?”

            “When I need to.”

            The bartender came back over to her. “Anything else I can get you, sugar?”           

            “She’s fine,” Tyler said sharply.

            Adda glared at him. “4loko.”

            The bartender raised his eyebrows slightly. “What flavor?”

            “Surprise me,” she said, pointedly looking at Tyler, daring him to stop her. “And another Irish rum, please.”

            The bartender returned with her drinks. “Slow down, sugar,” he whispered to her. “Your boyfriend doesn’t look to happy.”

            “He’s not my boyfriend; he just likes to act like he can control me, but only when he benefits him.” She emptied her glass. “One more, then I’ll stop…maybe.”

            The bartender chuckled. “Alright, sugar. Don’t torture him too hard.”

            Adda smiled dangerously. “Believe me, I will.”

         Or maybe she was just finding an excuse to torture herself.

Hey guys. The next chapters are gonna be up soon. And they're gonna be really intense. Thanks for reading:)