With This Heart(46)

“ We’re coming over!” she said, and I could already hear her shuffling around to get her shoes on.

“ I’m not there, I needed some air. I’ll come over to the house later.”

“ Are you sure? I could take a walk with you?” She was so sweet. She wouldn’t have been this forgiving if Caroline hadn’t died. She would have been royally pissed about my road trip.

For a moment, I considered letting her come with me. It would have been nice to have her for comfort, but I wanted to be alone.

“ No. I’ll see you later,” I answered, and then cut off the call. I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and focused on driving toward an unknown destination. I exited when I felt like it, turned left and then right without conscious thought.

I ended up on a street with a row of bars and trendy restaurants. It was nearly nine at night, so most of the places were in full swing. I parked down the street and then walked along the sidewalk, looking for a venue where I could drown my sorrows. They all had interesting names like The Flying Squirrel, O’Doyle’s Pub, and The Hippy Hollow.

One bar caught my attention out of all the rest because of the wild dancers in the window. They were scantily clad and swaying with easy confidence. Music was streaming through the doors. It was a Rihanna remix with heavy bass that seduced me enough to pull my wallet out of my back pocket. I had no clue if it was an eighteen-and-over bar or not, but the bouncer at the door was busy arguing with another guy, so I just walked right in like I belonged. A dark black staircase led me up to a second floor and the moment I hit the landing, the music and bass multiplied tenfold. Bodies shuffled in every direction and I pushed my way through, trying not to make eye contact with anyone for fear that they’d realize I was too young to be there.

I wasn’t in control of my emotions. At any moment I could have crumbled into tears that wouldn’t cease, but I kept walking deeper into the flashing lights.

There was a single spot open at the bar, smack dab in the center, so I slid onto the seat and let the club scene engulf me.

“ What can I get you?” A voice asked. I looked up to see a well-dressed bartender smiling down at me. He was impeccably groomed: waxed eyebrows and gelled black hair. Damn, he was prettier than me.

“ Could I just have a water for now?” I wasn’t sure if he would ask for my ID and I didn’t want to get kicked out. My fingers laced together and my foot tapped nervously at the foot of my bar stool.

“ Sure thing,” he winked, and then grabbed a glass and filled it with water. His movements were fluid and moved to the beat of the music the entire time. When he was finished, he grabbed a small bowl and tossed a few Maraschino cherries inside.

“ On the house, sweetie.” He placed the bowl in front of me and offered me a genuine smile before moving on to the next customer.

I popped the cherries into my mouth one at a time, letting the pulsing music push away any thoughts trying to break through my facade. It turned into a cycle: I’d hear a snippet of the conversations around me or get distracted by the bartender and for a brief second I felt like a normal person. But then Caroline’s death would snake into my consciousness and I’d feel a sharp punch to my gut all over again.

I wished she was at the bar with me. I wished she was sitting in the seat next to me instead of the couple shouting over one another to be heard. I stayed in my own little world, but she would have already had conversations with a dozen people. She drew people in like a fly trap and I always stood in the background in awe of how personable she could be to complete strangers.

I guzzled my water, trying to scrape away the sadness. People shuffled around me. The seats at the bar would empty and then fill again by a never ending stream of club goers.

My gaze was focused on my empty cherry bowl when a large presence filled the seat to my left. I didn’t look up, but I could feel the person’s energy. The scent of hair spray and a flowery perfume made my nostrils sting.


“ Why the sad face, gorgeous?” A deep voice asked.

My eyes flitted up to see a sight that I have never beheld in all of my nineteen years. A drag queen, the most beautiful, over-the-top, sparkly drag queen I’d ever seen, was peering at me from beneath thick false eyelashes. I just sat there gaping, trying to take in as much of his/her appearance as I could. A bright pink wig spiraled at least a foot into the air. Her (I decided to go with her for the time being since I didn’t know proper protocol) make-up was flawless: bright pink and purple glitter eye shadow that tapered off into a cat eye.

“ Better close that mouth sweetie, or I’ll find something to put in it,” she said, and shimmied her shoulders playfully. Glitter particles flew into the air in every direction. Her sexual innuendo only forced my mouth open an inch wider.

“ Javi, could you get us two shots of tequila, please?” she asked, pointing one long finger at the bartender. That’s when it hit me. I hadn’t wandered into just any bar. Nope. I’d wandered into a gay bar. Who knew they even existed in Dallas?

“ What’s your name?” she asked me as the two shot glasses were set in front of us.

“ Abby,” I answered shyly, staring toward the liquor. I wasn’t supposed to have alcohol because of my transplant. It’s not like one night would kill me. It was just one of those things that got cut when I already had so many obstacles working against my health.