Book of Night(64)

If ever there was a bar that perfectly captured how Charlie felt that afternoon, it was Blue Ruin. She sat down on a stool, reassured to know she could stay all night.



* * *



A n hour later, she was three Maker’s Marks in, with no desire to slow down.

Doreen had texted to say that she was on her way over and a lot of other things that Charlie hadn’t bothered to read. Charlie had another text from her high school friend Laura about missing her barbecue, plus one from her mother about her new boyfriend’s birthday and how she was hoping they could all get together. Maybe the girls would like to host, since their place was bigger?

There were two voice mails from work, asking about her coming in on Monday night. She tried to imagine being back there behind the bar, making drinks. Trying not to think of the glass and the blood and choking on shadow. Trying not to think about the sound Hermes’s neck made when it broke.

She ignored the messages and went into the bathroom to wipe off her makeup. She managed only to turn it into a glittering charcoal smear that covered her eyes and part of her cheeks. Exhaustion and irritability were creeping in on her faster than the alcohol could stave off.

There was always a dizzying high immediately after a job, followed by an adrenaline drop. Then everything felt a little too dull and you became a little too sensitive. Like right then, when she looked at herself in the mirror, staring into her own dark eyes and drawing a finger over her own scarred lip, she felt unexpectedly and humiliatingly like crying.

It wasn’t because of Vince. It had nothing to do with him.

She went back to the bar and ordered another drink. If you were going to drown your sorrows, you needed a lot of liquid.

The bartender was a friend of Don’s and tried occasionally to make conversation, but Charlie wasn’t doing a good job of keeping up her end. At some point she realized he might be flirting.

“Kyle,” he told her with a grin, looking up from his phone. “That’s my name. Maybe Don told you about me.”

Charlie was suddenly sure that Don had told Kyle about her.

Kyle had a head full of thick, wavy brown hair. A tattoo of a rosary climbed his arm from the wrist. His shadow appeared utterly normal. He’d be better at erasing her dread and horror and sadness than all the whiskey in the world.

For fifteen to twenty minutes, at least.

She ought to call someone. Laura, so she could apologize for not showing up for the barbecue. Barb, who could make her laugh. José, who was sad too.

“Did you know,” she told Kyle, trying to make conversation, “a few grains of salt are supposed to take out the bitter in coffee. Isn’t that strange, to think it works better than sugar?”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

Kyle was probably a terrible bartender. She shrugged. “I like things bitter anyway. Like me.”

He gave her a look like he wasn’t sure how to take that.

A warning, she ought to tell him. Take it as a warning that I am in a very bad mood and happy to have an excuse to take it out on you.

Charlie wanted everyone to think of her as hardheaded and hard-hearted. Hard as old petrified wood, as rocks, as candy that cracks your teeth. But she wasn’t.

“There you are.” Doreen sat down next to her at the bar, clearly seething. “The great Charlie Hall.” She was wearing work clothes—white jeans and a collared blue shirt with the name of the dental place where she was a receptionist embroidered over her heart. She must have dashed out of work when she’d gotten the texts about Adam’s whereabouts.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “What? I got your guy and your ring.”

“Please tell me you didn’t rob a pawnshop.” Doreen’s voice was loud enough to make the few other grizzled-looking patrons wasting their day look over at her.

Charlie shrugged.

“Adam was just borrowing the ring. He told me he was using the money to make a deal that was going to change our lives.” Doreen obviously wanted to believe that. “He wasn’t rolling bliss.”

“Maybe he told you about the stone in the ring not being original too,” Charlie said. “Because he sold it years ago.”

Doreen flushed. “You really are like the devil, you know that? Knowing all our sins.”

Charlie felt as though she was observing the conversation from very far away. “That’s ridiculous. I’m a fuck-up, Doreen. But I found your guy and even got your ring, so if you learned something you didn’t want to know about Adam, too bad.”

They stared at one another for a long moment.

Charlie took off the ring and put it down on the bar top. When Doreen reached for it, though, Charlie covered it with her hand. “You made some threats about what your brother could do to Posey’s account at UMass. I want a confirmation that the deadline for paying has been pushed back. Three months at least. I need to see the notice on my phone when I sign in to my account.”

“You can’t expect him to risk—”

“I one thousand percent do.” One of the more frustrating things about trading her work for other work was that people put a high value on her trade until a thing was done, then became convinced it must have been easy. Renegotiation was never in her favor.

Doreen looked at the ring under the cage of her hand. “That’s mine.”

“It will be,” Charlie said. “As soon as you call your brother and I get that email.”