Page 69 of Tell It To The Waves

I start to type, then delete and start typing again.

I miss us.

Delete, I can’t send that. I won’t send that. I power my phone off, hoping that will divert my alcohol-induced mind.

Head leaned back on the fake-leather booth. I looked at the fishing net cast over the entire ceiling of the bar, buoys hanging from it. I try to count them, but keep messing up, forgetting what number I was on before my eyes start to get heavy. Forcing myself back up, shaking my head, I pull out another beer, even though I know I don’t need it.

The bar is quiet; the crowd has thinned out. Forcing myself out of the booth and to the bathroom, I sway as I piss, but thankfully still make it into the urinal. Trying to keep my stream focused on the deodorizer puck.

Shaking myself off, zipping up and quickly washing my hands, I take a glance at myself before opening the door. My hair is in a mussed mess, my eyes red, looking like I’ve been up for days. “You got to get it together,” I mumble to the reflection. Stepping out into the hallway, I stop seeing two people standing at the end, the way I need to exit.

Immediately, I recognize the stance and build: Molly’s dad, Todd Williams. My eyebrows shoot to my hairline before I step back into the doorway, not letting it close all the way. Confused because he wouldn’t be caught dead in this type of place, especially at this time of night.

“I gave you this bar; what more do you want?” I hear Todd’s voice, spitting out the words.

I can’t make out what the other voice is saying, but I immediately know it’s Cal’s by the accent.

“Don’t fuck with me, Calvin.” Todd billows.

I hear the soft music from the hallway filtering in; peeking my head out, I see Cal staring right at me, pulling his lip ring into his mouth and biting on it.

Caught, I make my way out. “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt.” I play it off like I couldn’t care less what was going on, but that’s far from the truth. My interest is piqued.

I walk by Cal and out to the bar, looking for Todd, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

I fall into my booth, pushing the bucket of beer away, knowing I can’t drink the last two that are left.

It looks like I’m the last person here. I watch Cal as he cleans off the bar, picking up glasses and wiping it down.

My mind is spinning as to how he knows Todd and why Todd would give him a bar.

I’ve only seen Cal a few times around town; he stays to himself, so there isn’t much known about him. Just that he became the new owner of Pirate's Hideaway a few months back.

Placing my half-empty beer bottle in the bucket, I take it to the bar so I can cash out.

Standing in front of him, his face looks pissed. “Let me cash out,” I tell him.

He shakes his head, but says nothing, as he slides me my tab.

I look at him, really look at him for the first time when my eyes move to the mole next to his lip, the same one as Todd's. The one I’d stare at so many times as he blew smoke up my ass. “Holy hell.” I mutter.

Cal looks at me, thinking I’m speaking of the amount I owe. Furrowing my brows, “Where you from, Cal?” I ask nonchalantly.

“New York, but I needed a change of scenery and decided to come here.” He takes my bucket of beer, tossing them in the trash. “Hey, you didn’t finish these.” He holds up the two untouched ones.

“Couldn’t.” I pull out my debit card. “Driftwood Bay out of all the places.” I laugh, trying to not make myself sound like I’m searching.

“No alcohol left behind,” Cal hands me one of the beers as he takes the other. “To deadbeat fathers.” He slams the beer before throwing it in the trash; it clinks with the rest of the bottles. I stand there, dumbfounded. Tentatively taking a sip.

“That was your dad?” I ask him, trying to sound uninterested.

“Do you know Todd?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“No, just seen him here and there,” I lie.

Cal laughs and leans his elbows on the bar. “You have to love it when rich people like to keep their dirty little secrets a secret.”

I feign uninterest. But my head is spinning with this information. “I feel that,” I tell him, even though I have no clue what it feels like. He looks at me, seeing a friend in combat. Thinking we battle the same life. “Mine doesn’t even glance at me.” I shrug my shoulders, showing indifference, taking a sip of the beer I’m still holding, wanting more information.