I glance at the top-shelf whiskey and actually recognize a bottle. “Give me that bottle,” I say, pointing to the Blanton’s.
“The bottle?” Bartender asks. “It’s… top-shelf.”
“Obviously.”
The bartender hesitates. “It’s a two-hundred-dollar—”
But Pie has already scribbled ‘moneta’ down on a bar napkin and is pushing it towards the guy. “Here. Keep the change.”
The bartender’s eyes light up. He looks at Pie, then at me. “Wow. Thanks guys. I really appreciate it. I’m Carl, by the way.” He turns, grabs the bottle of Blanton’s Special Edition, and sets it down in front of me. Then he reaches for two rocks glasses and pushes one at each of us. “Want me to pour?”
“We’ve got it,” I say.
“If you need anything else, just let me know.” He walks away staring at the piece of paper, grinning and shaking his head like he can’t believe his good fortune.
“How much do you think we tipped him?” Pie asks.
I watch as the bartender puts the napkin into the drawer and then helps himself to some bills. “Looks like a wad of twenties.”
Pie and I both laugh as I pour our first drinks. I slide her glass over, then we hold them up in the air.
“What should we cheers to?” Pie asks.
“Audentes fortuna juvat,” I say. “Fortune favors the bold. And we are nothing if not bold tonight.”
“I can get on board with that.” Pie laughs. We clink glasses and take our first sip.
“Wow,” I breathe out. “It’s been a long time since I had a drink. And this one is smooth.”
Pie makes a little face at the initial bitterness. But then she takes a deep breath as the bourbon hits her stomach. “Oh, yeah. This is nice. I like it.” She takes another, bigger sip, then her shoulders relax. “I like this night already.”
I just stare at her, wondering how I got so lucky. I mean, I guess it was bound to happen. Two thousand years of shitty luck can only last so long. But Pie, she’s the perfect gift. She’s everything. And even though I couldn’t see it that first day, it didn’t take me long. “That ride around the block,” I say.
“What?”
“That’s when I fell in love with you, I think.”
She chuckles. “What are you talking about?”
“When you came home from your first trip to town and you were all excited.”
“After I sold my soul for shoes and candles?”
We both laugh and take another sip of our drinks. “No. It was when you clapped your hands. All excited about finding a new magic person from town to take your place.”
“Oh, my God. I was so dumb.”
“Nah, that’s not what it was. It was…” I go searching for the words Tomas used to describe her earlier that day. When she was sure she could talk to the sheriff through the gate. When she was positive that there was no way in hell that this curse would get the best of her. “Eternally hopeful. That’s what you were.”
“Oh, fuck,” Pie says. “Slow, stupid—”
“Cute,” I finish for her.
She looks up at me, her cheeks flushed pink now from the whiskey. “It’s not a curse. Not if it’s right where I want to be.”
“Yeah.” I let out a long exhale and agree. “That’s how I see it now, too.”
“And we have doors, so…” She shrugs. “We’re not even trapped. It feels like…”