18. Bar Confessions
BAR CONFESSIONS
FAITH
O nyx eyes the two women who come into Nectar. “What the fuck?”
Alison Stryker, whose face probably shows up under “Nice Church-Going Lady” in the thesaurus, and her friend Geena Stinson, who organizes the church bake sale every year, primly sit at the bar at Nectar, a strip club .
There’s a stripper, right now, shaking her ass on the stage. All she’s wearing are pasties over her nipples, and a flimsy strip of fabric to hide what she has between her legs.
“Hello,” Alison says, her back straight, like she’s keeping a brave face. I think she is.
Onyx looks about ready to have a heart attack.
We’ve only been open for half an hour, so things are still slow. In the lull, Onyx was teaching me how to make a smoked Old-Fashioned—Nectar style. It’s not all that different from the classic, except they use a fancy house blend of bitters and call it the Nectar Drip . Whatever!
We’ve been practicing all week, and I’ve been tasting carefully so I’m not drunk. Onyx, on the other hand, tosses drinks back with ease because she has the constitution of an alcoholic. Her words.
I set the menus in front of the two women, who smile…warmly.
What in the world is going on?
They read the menu. Their eyes go wider and wider. Their eyebrows curve up and up, until they’re almost hitting the hairline.
I mean, we have a variety of cocktails with names like Morning After , which is made with espresso, whiskey, and regret, according to the menu.
“What does regret mean?” I ask Onyx.
“Absinthe,” she says pithily.
There’s a blue curacao cocktail called Slippery When Wet .
We have a peach schnapps vanilla vodka monstrosity called Barely Legal .
There’s Dirty Knees , Blow me First (shooter with whipped cream topping…yeah, real subtle), Cherry Popped , Lap Dance Lemonade , G-String Gimlet , Barely Dressed ; and the ever-popular Kiss and they’re really sorry that you ended up cleaning our toilets.”
“I don’t get it. I met most of these people at Ripley’s, but they didn’t do anything bad to me.”
“They didn’t help you,” Onyx points out.
Ricky looks keenly at the remaining rolls in the bakery box, as if debating which one to eat next.
Dude, they’re all the freaking same!
“Cain’s been callin’ people, I hear.” Ricky triumphantly picks up a roll.
“What?” My heart, which was frozen moments ago, comes to life.
Thump. Thump.
“Cain’s been callin’ people,” he repeats.
I glare at him.
He chuckles. “Sweetheart, the man has told everyone how his family mistreated you, and he wants to make amends. You know, he called me and demanded I give you a job as a bartender.”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I feel sick. “Is that why you?—?”
“Fuck no!” Ricky exclaims. “I told him to fuck himself, ‘cause I was doin’ it anyway. I didn’t want him to take credit for it.”
It keeps happening.
People I hardly know show up with pie, tool sets, coffee, and an apology for crimes committed against me. It’s like the whole town is taking responsibility.
It’s confusing.
It’s also nice.
I get the full scoop from Georgia when I accept her invitation for dinner at her place.
I’m not ready to go to a diner or a coffee shop or, God forbid, Ripley’s. I’m still raw. I’m in pain in the places inside me that have thawed, and numb in others.
Turns out Cain stood in front of the congregation at the First Trinity Church and told them everything .
“Told them what Paula and Melody did. What he did. What he didn’t do . Said he’s in love with you.”
I choked on my water.
“And he asked everyone to help him. Not because he deserves forgiveness, but because maybe you deserve to be validated and acknowledged.”
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Word spreads fast in a town like Silverton,” Georgia says. “Sometimes gossip heals instead of harms.”