Free Last Call Lounge by Stuart Spears

Boyd looked away. Even Redmond avoided my eye.
    I grabbed some paperwork out of the office, tax forms and things, and sat at the bar with a calculator and a pen. I liked to do paperwork out in the bar, rather than in the office, so the bartenders would see me. If I didn’t, they tended to believe I didn’t do anything.
    Boyd watched his game, Redmond smiled at himself in the mirror. The sounds of the game on TV filled only half the room.  The rest was filled with the sounds of the building, of cars passing by.  The hum of the coolers and the clunk of the air conditioner coming to life.
    I paid the last bill and stepped out the front door to stretch. The sidewalk was cracked, the buildings in either direction were flat and low.  Over the top of the convenience store across the street peaked the tips of the skyscrapers downtown.  Cars buzzed past.  A quick wind kicked up the heat off the pavement. I bent over a cigarette to light it.
    A woman approached, stopped in front of me on the sidewalk. At first she was just a woman in a dark, knee-length dress, a woman with straight black hair cut like a dagger over deep green eyes. Then she smiled and she was Ruby.
    “Hi, John,” Ruby said. It was the same voice, her voice, but with more whiskey-haze in it. She had a tattoo on her shoulder, a twisting rose, that hadn’t been there before. A pound or two more, in the right places, new curves that fit her perfectly. The legs that came out of the dress were brown and smooth, like something perfectly baked.  She smiled a half a smile at me, wrinkled her nose while I stared.
    “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”
    “Yeah.” I nodded and gestured with my cigarette. “Come on in.”
    Boyd looked up when he heard the door open.
    “Well, well, well,” he said with a laugh. “Look what the cat took seven years to drag in.”  He unfolded himself from the stool and gave Ruby a hug.
    “Hey, Boyd,” she said. Ruby and Boyd had hated each other back when she and I were going out, although they always faked a little cordiality. Boyd hated Ruby because she did all the things the girlfriend of the son of the owner wasn’t supposed to do – she went behind the bar while we were open, poured her own drinks, called the bartenders by name to get their attention. Ruby hated Boyd because he’s an asshole. They broke off the hug and Boyd sat back in his stool, his eyes went back to the game.
    “What are you doing here, Ruby?” I finally asked. My heart was pounding in my ears.  She sat down on the edge of a stool, brushed at her bangs above her eyes.  Her smooth skin was everywhere I looked.  I stared at my hands.
    “Well,” she said. “I was in town visiting so I thought I’d stop in and see Big John.  I have something I want to ask him.”  I wasn’t mentioned in that sentence and it hit me hard.
    “He’s dead,” I said. “Anything else I can help you with?”
    She blinked like she had been swatted on the nose. Her eyes dropped to the floor. I had forgotten that she and my father had been close.
    “I’m sorry,” she said.
    “It was about a year ago,” I said, waving my hand a little.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked. “Obviously the bartender isn’t gonna get off his ass and do his job.” 
    Boyd didn’t turn from the TV.  “I figured she’d want to get it herself,” he drawled. “For old time’s sake.” 
    Ruby took in a long breath and stood up.
    “I should just go,” she said, unfolding her long, baked legs.
    “No, wait,” I said. I went behind the bar and poured two shots of Jagermeister. It had been our ritual to start our nights together with a shot of Jager. I set one glass in front of her, held the other. She looked at it with pursed lips.
    “No, I should really just go.”
    I held my shot up to toast.
    “For old time’s sake,” I said. And it was like old times.  I felt the old mix of feelings, the desires to grab and hold her and, at the same time,