Averie is too bougie for her own good. We walk over to the serving area, unwilling to give up before trying something on tap, and look over my shoulder once I get there, half-convinced my sister would have made an escape attempt. To my surprise, she’s followed me over to the bartender working the bar
“Do you think they serve espresso martinis here?”
“I think they serve Coor’s Light.”
“Hi, can I get you anything?” the bartender asks us, her dark brown eyes and spider-leg eyelashes fluttering between me and my sister.
“I’ll have a plain seltzer,” my sister says. “I’m driving.”
“I’ll have a shot of vodka and a half-pint of whatever’s on tap.”
“Pumpkin Sam Adams okay?”
It sounds awful. But not more awful than finding out my boyfriend cheated on me. With his sister. And he barely seems to think that it’s wrong. I always found their relationship weirdly close, and she would often wake him up in the middle of the night to talk but… I just thought I didn’t get it because I didn’t have a brother.
But of course I didn’t get it.
“Yes. That sounds delicious,” I say. Because anything thatwill get me monumentally fucked up sounds better than ruminating about what he did to me.
“It doesnotsound delicious,” Averie mutters. I hope the bartender doesn’t hear her. It doesn’t seem to matter because the shot and the half-pint come sliding my way within seconds. Averie snatches her seltzer off the bar like the bottom of the glass risks contracting cooties.
“There’s a guy staring at you, by the way.”
“Great.”
I throw back the shot. I’m not here to meet anyone tonight except maybe the little green fairy that appears when you drink too much. Or was that only absinthe?
“He would be cute if he wasn’t part of a gang.”
“Where?” I mutter, careful not to look around too dramatically as we find a booth in the corner of the bar somewhere, safely away from the bikers so I don’t have to hear Averie complain about it anymore.
“He’s at the bar, second seat from the left. He’s not looking now.”
“Can I look?”
“Ew, no! Don’t encourage them.”
I don’t point out that they haven’t even done anything except mind their business. I look over my shoulder at the guy Averie claims was staring at me, but I can only see his back and the words printed on his cut. There’s a giant skull with a knife and a tomahawk going through its mouth and a large snake wrapped around the entire design. Maybe Averie’s right to get all freaked out over it.
The script readsRebel Barbarians Motorcycle Clubin a large arch on the back of the leather and then there’s a single word: GHOST
Maybe he got that name because of his skin color, because he’s surprisingly pale compared to the rest of the bikers and Ionly even think about it because of the name. I turn away quickly, still concerned with the dangerously basic beer flavor I just set down. Averie and I slip into our seats and I quickly skim some frothy beer off the top.
“He’s huge.”
“Yeah, he probably has warrants out.”
Nobody impresses Averie. She doesn’t seem to mind being single though. Seriously. She never complains, never seems unhappy without a man. I feel jealous because I’m the total opposite of a nonchalant woman “okay” with not dating.
“Averie? I already have enough reasons to hate my life right now. Can I enjoy a man looking at me for five seconds?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. He’s probably the male lead in a Hallmark movie with all those tattoos and all that leather.”
She’s a fire sign, in case you were wondering why she’s like this. And she has eldest daughter syndrome like you wouldn’t believe.
“Averie…”
“Okay. I’m done,” she says in a more earnest tone than I expected.