He drank exactly three beers, nice and slow, like he could barely be bothered to finish them.
Closing time came around. Winter shouted out last call and I glanced over to where my weird admirer was sitting—and found his stool empty.
I tugged on Winter’s sleeve. “Where’d he got?”
She followed my gaze. “Cutie left a few minutes ago. You missed your chance, sister girl. But Old Ted’s single these days, I think his wife divorced him.”
“Yeah because he’s got a second family over in Ohio.”
“No shit. Old Ted’s got a second family?”
“I know. He’s super gross but I guess he’s like amazing in bed or something.”
Winter cackled at that. Old Ted was a regular at the Shiny Lobster, and not exactly what anyone would call ‘fuckable.’
The place emptied out and I went through the closing routine. Mikey helped even though he got done early. Winter and him chatted away, making dirty jokes at each other in an attempt to rile me up and scoring each comment on a system based on how red my cheeks were.
“Winter, baby, when I think about you, I get hard enough to roast you like a pig on my cock.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Winter protested.
“But her cheeks are like a solid six. Look at her!”
“I hate you two.” I wiped down the bar top. “I really despise you both. There’s a special section of hell waiting to receive the two of you with open arms.”
“I’d call that more like a five at best.” Winter frowned, got closer. “Four. Definitely a four.”
“That’s bullshit. Solid six. Look at her!” Mikey joined Winter, getting way too close.
“Okay! Enough!” I pushed them both away, which only made them laugh that much harder. I sighed and pulled at my hair, but I was smiling too—even though they were annoying as hell, I couldn’t help myself, it was kind of funny.
And it made me feel normal. All the teasing, the stupid comradery, it gave me a twisted sense of having a home again.
Even though my real home was a mess and I’d never go back to that place again, this wasn’t so bad.
I could live with this.
We finished up and headed outside. Winter locked up and waited while I unlocked my bike and Mike wandered down the block toward his car, waving once over his shoulder. Winter waved back.
“Sometimes I think you have a crush on him,” I said as I pulled my bike free and got onto the seat.
“He’s not my type. Too nice, you know?”
“Uh, I’m not sure I’d use the word nice. I mean, you’ve heard the filthy things he says, right?”
“Just to rile you up. It’s adorable.” Winter gave me a quick hug, but didn’t ask if I wanted a ride. She knew better than that by now. “Have a good ride home sweetie. Stomp on the floor when you get in.”
“Will do.”
She walked off and I watched her go then rode off onto the empty, quiet streets.
Sea Isle at two in the morning in the winter was a ghost town and I loved it. I had the street to myself and I could pretend like I was in my own little world where all the houses were mine and all the people inside were my closest friends. I had these elaborate fantasies—kind of pathetic, I know, but whatever—about living on an island populated with only the people I loved the most in the world, which was admittedly not that many, so it’d be a small island.
But still, I’d love a place of my own where I felt safe and secure. Even Sea Isle with all its touristy charm and big police force made me uncomfortable. All the cars, all the people in the summer, the lights and the loud noises, the fireworks and the screams of excitement and joy, it made me jump and flash back to that night, the bump of a body under tires, the gush of blood between my fingers.
Nothing made sense. Nothing ever worked. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how far I ran or how hard I worked to put what happened behind me, something always managed to creep up.
Like Manzi and Dia. Like Roman.
Especially Roman and those ice eyes.
A car slowly slid onto the street behind me. I drifted over toward the sidewalk to let it pass, but it didn’t speed up. Its main lights were off, only the side parking lights, and that wasn’t enough for the driver to see with. I felt a sudden chill and took a quick turn down a side street, but the car followed.
It was a black sedan. The front looked old and worn. I pedaled harder, across to Central Avenue. The houses on the bayside looked newer, sleeker, more modern, but just as empty. I was suddenly very aware that there was nobody nearby.