Chapter 4
JAX
Currently playing: Closing Time by Semisonic
After her family has escorted a red-eyed, sniffling Tiffany out, I realize it’s too quiet and slightly traumatic to stay in my trashed loft.
I need a drink or ten—the story of my life this past week.
The only problem is that I visited all my favorite places together with her, and there’s nowhere new I want to go.
I could take Isla for a ride, but I don’t know if that gets the edge off like a night of drinking does.
Wait a minute; Rose loves that bar near her last place. What was the name of it again? I remember it was something to do with hot and cold, like a Katy Perry song. Calling Rose, I hope I’m not disturbing their date.
After four rings, she picks up. “Missing me already?”
I chuckle. “I do, beautiful. Sorry to interrupt your date night, but I need your help with something. What was the name of that bar you loved in your old neighborhood?”
“Warm'n'Cool. I love that place and its special drinks menu. You’ve dissed that place before, what’s changed?”
“I just kicked Tiff out after she almost trashed my place. And I need a drink.” Damn, that sounds pathetic, even to my ears. “I want to avoid rehashing all my memories for one night and need to go somewhere I haven’t been before.”
“I’m sorry, Jax. I never liked her, but you seemed smitten, so I let it be.
” There’s commotion in the background, and I can hear Eli’s deeper voice before Rose continues.
“Do you want Eli to come with you? We’re watching a movie, but if you ask nicely enough, I bet he could do something else for an hour or two. ”
I will not end their movie date even if I need my best friend right now. “Nah, let him be. I know it’s your special date night, and I already ruined it by calling you. Thanks for asking, though, Rosie. I need time alone with a beer in one hand and a shot of something strong in the other.”
Rose sighs loudly like she often does when she disagrees with me. “Okay then. Remember, we’re here for you, Jax, if you need us later.”
“Thanks. Eli is one lucky bastard for finding you again.”
Rose tells me she’s the lucky one, and I hang up after saying bye. I’m wondering if going to a random bar is the best decision, but there isn’t much else that I would want to do.
Searching the bar online, I find the address easily. It’s only a twenty-minute ride away from my loft. And if I decide to drink more than the legal limit, I can always call Ollie to help me with Isla, as he lives on this side of the river too.
The place I’m standing in front of looks nothing like the bars I usually frequent.
Like Rose once said, it’s like a bar and a coffee shop decided to have a baby.
It looks too clean and plain hipster for my liking.
At least, as expected, the bar isn’t too busy tonight.
Most city-dwellers have left the city for peace and quiet.
But not me. I’m stuck here trying to forget my most recent mistake.
At least I can drink myself stupid alone.
When I step inside, I notice that the establishment is cozy, inviting, and relaxed, like everyone describes it.
There’s a long dark wooden bar with selected craft beer taps and glasses inverted in racks above it on the left.
Behind the bar, shelves and fridges are full of drinks ranging from tonic water to liquor.
There are two chrome espresso machines, bean grinders, and bottles of coffee flavorings and toppings.
The wall opposite the bar has a massive built-in shelf with books and board games.
But all those features are not what catches my attention. It’s the live singing I hear. I look around to see where the sound is coming from, and spot a woman with an acoustic guitar on the stage near the hallway to what I assume are the restrooms and staff rooms in the back.
Taking three steps closer, I realize I know the woman who sings like an angel. It’s Soph, Rose’s friend, who I met at a party last year. What the hell is she doing here?
She’s stunning, not in that traditional way, but something about her makes me feel different.
I’m taken back by her beauty right away, just like that one night last year when we spent hours talking.
Maybe it’s her curly hair or that stunningly gorgeous smile that fascinates me.
Perhaps it’s her incredible body that makes me want to touch her.
But I certainly feel something when I look at this charming woman.
It doesn’t help that I know how witty and perceptive she is.
We had such superb conversations that one night.
And her voice like a siren’s call lures me closer as she sings a cover of Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way”.
I had no idea she had such a mesmerizing voice.
Still looking at her, I sit at one of the comfy-looking chairs next to the framed photos near the bar.
There are shots of people, famous New York landmarks, and everything in between—even a framed picture of a pug wearing a tuxedo.
And here I thought I had seen everything.
Taking a more comfortable sitting position, I enjoy my view and the vibration of her singing deep in my veins as she plays another song with her acoustic guitar.
I remember we share our love for music, but I couldn’t have known her talent based on our conversations alone. Damn, I wish I knew more about her.
When her set ends fifteen minutes later, I try to catch Soph’s attention as she steps behind the bar to serve drinks. When she notices me, her eyes flash with something, but it’s gone quicker than I can tell what. Was that recognition? Does she remember me like I remember her?
I walk to where she stands behind the bar and sit down on the nearest bar stool.
Acting like I don’t recognize her, I start a conversation.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes.
That's when I realize it sounded like a line.
“Fuck, I'm not hitting on you, I swear. It's just that you look familiar—”
She crosses her arms, clearly annoyed. “I’m friends with Rose and Haisley. I was at Rose and Eli’s housewarming party last year and her graduation party this summer. Why am I not surprised that you don’t remember me?”
I wince, and her expression softens. She doesn’t realize that I only winced as I avoided her the entire night of Rose’s graduation party. I was with Tiff and didn’t want to make it awkward.
“Oh yeah, now I remember. Soph, right?” There’s tension between us that I can’t explain.
It wasn’t there when we met previously, but it surely is there now.
I know it was dumb to pretend I don’t remember her.
But I can’t admit that I did recognize her right away, not after that performance I put on.
“That’s me. Nice to meet you again, Jax.” She emphasizes my name, proving to me that she does remember me.
Well, shit—I’m such an idiot. “Nice to see you again, Soph. Um, so I’m here to forget life for a moment. Any recommendations on where I should start?”
Soph relaxes, and a small smile tugs the corner of her lips. “I mean, I would order beer and shots if I was the one drinking to forget. Vodka or tequila, nothing beats the classics.”
“Sure, give me any beer you have on tap and two shots of your choice of poison.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, contemplating. “Are you sure that’s the smartest decision? Didn’t you just arrive with your bike?”
“And how do you know about my bike?”
She fidgets with her hands. “I heard the engine, and you walked in shortly after wearing the most typical biker outfit—sturdy lace-up boots, leather jacket, and long jeans to cover your legs. I put two and two together.”
“Okay then.” I nod as I get her meaning. “Returning to your first question, comparing having drinks tonight to other decisions I’ve made in life, I’m fairly sure it ranks high on the list of good decisions. If you’re worried, here.”
I toss Isla’s keys to her. She inspects them, her gaze on the Harley-Davidson logo. “My da used to have the FLT 1340 Tour Glide from the eighties. Which one do you have?”
“2016 Softail Breakout. I call her Isla.”
Soph laughs and looks at me with questioning eyes. “Why Isla?”
“Madonna’s “La Isla Bonita” was playing in the waiting room when I picked her up. That’s as exciting as that story gets, I’m afraid.”
“I get that, but naming your bike just seems a bit extreme, don’t you think?”
I chuckle at her puzzlement. “Well, the main woman in my life needs a name, don’t you think?”
“Sure. But remember, once you hit that stage where you can’t even remember your name, don’t blame me.” Soph pours the clear liquid into two shot glasses and pushes them closer to me.
“Cheers to good life decisions and new friends.” I take the first one and keep it close to my lips before taking a deep breath and downing it.
The liquid burns down my throat as I swallow the shot of vodka.
It tastes awful. But it doesn’t stop me from going for seconds.
The burning sensation spreads to my entire body, and I feel better instantly.
The first drink of the evening has always been the hardest for me.
I used to worry that I’d become an alcoholic like my mother.
Drinking used to feel like Russian roulette—it can go wrong, and you get addicted, or you know how and when to stop.
But right now, I understand my mother. I get why she wants to drink to deal with her life and all the shit it brings.
As I keep drinking, my eyes stay on Soph.
She has a killer smile that lights up this whole place.
And when she laughs with the other bartender or the customers, it’s like music to my ears.
Not to mention when she hums along to the songs that play in the bar.
There’s something mysterious about Soph too.
Whenever she notices me staring, she turns around and acts like she isn’t watching me either. I like that.