Page 19 of Don't Go
"He's still in the hospital."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
He nodded.
"Yeah. Thanks." He picked the glass up again. He held it. "But enough about me. Tell me, how long have you been a bartender?"
"That's not what's going on here, Mr. Cross. We're not having a conversation."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to."
"Well." He took a sip, slow. "I want to. I want to talk to you all night."
I wiped my hands on the bar towel. I didn't look at him. I was running out of reasons not to look at him.
"Will you shut up if I make you another drink?"
He nodded.
I made him a second old fashioned. I slid it across. I went down the bar to take a Manhattan order from a woman three stools down. I rang her up. I came back to the speed rail andstarted restocking the wells, and I let myself believe, for half a minute, that the second drink had bought me peace.
"I'll take a guess."
I closed my eyes for one second.
"Five years."
"What?"
"Bartending. Five years."
"Mr. Cross?—"
"Eight, then."
My eye twitched. I felt it.Why won't this man just leave me alone?
"You said you'd shut up."
"Isn't it customary for bartenders to listen to their customers' troubles? I insist that you listen to mine. Maybe you'll have a solution for me."
I caught Kit's eye at the end of the bar. He was wiping down a coaster he'd already wiped, watching me, and not pretending well.Don't come over here, Kit. I swear to God, if you come over here I'll have words with you that we will both remember.
I turned back and asked, "Okay, fine. What's the problem that needs to be solved?"
"Could I have another drink first?"
"Mr. Cross."
"It's just—it's really good. The drink. Addictive, even."
I made him a third. I slid it across.
He took it. He took a slow sip. He set the glass down. He raised one finger off the bar and curled it toward himself.
I held still for a beat. I wasn't going to. I was absolutely not going to. I was going to wipe down this section of the bar and walk away, and he could ask his question to the air for all I cared.
