Luca
Drinking alone is an underrated sport.
I know there’s a stigma around it. I know it can look desperate or depressing, but sometimes the world is too crowded, and it’s what you need to clear your brain.
I chose a good ole boy bar called Torpedo’s.
It’s Boston’s version of a biker bar, but instead of men with Harleys, it’s retired Navy men with anchor tattoos.
I know what you’re thinking. Not my kind of place.
I mean the floor is sticky with no less than thirty years of spilled beer, for fuck’s sake.
But that is exactly the point. Nobody here uses dating apps.
Nobody here is looking for an organic connection unless it’s a connection to five-dollar pitchers.
I order the oldest whiskey they have, a double barrel aged bourbon, and sip on it while my muscles slowly loosen, praying the tension in my brain will follow suit.
Matt’s words were both annoying and enlightening. Despite everything that’s happened, I can’t deny that I don’t like the way I acted at the office. I never scream for no reason. Hell, I never scream. It’s unhinged and shows a lack of control. And when it comes to my business, I never lose control.
Of course, I’ve always said that about my personal life too. I don’t want to be that person. It’s why I’ve never allowed myself to fall in love.
Yet here I am, drinking whiskey at a bar with submarines on the wall so I can escape whatever my life has become. I feel like I am spiraling down a rabbit hole and wondering if I’m too far gone to climb back out.
“Well, isn’t this charming…”
I know the voice before I even turn around. It’s Sadie. And all I can think is you have to be fucking kidding me.
I grit and set my drink down on the bar before slowly turning to face her. “Sadie, this whole you showing up where I am thing is starting to get really–” I stop, wondering for a moment just how strong this whiskey is. “...annoying. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Matt says, taking a seat next to me at the bar. Sadie reluctantly sits on the other side of him, ignoring the seedy, yellow-eyed grins coming from guys across the bar.
“Couldn’t you have found a better place to drown your sorrows?” she asks, leaning towards Matt. “If anyone asks, we’re together.”
“I came here so no one would recognize or find me,” I say. “Speaking of which, how did you find me?”
“Your work phone shares its location with your laptop. And your laptop password is five hundred mill strong, all lowercase, one word.”
Motherfucker.
“Still, what are you doing here?” I ask both of them.
“He’s right,” Sadie says eagerly, “What are any of us doing? Besides maybe getting airborne diseases.”
“What do you think we’re doing here, dumbass?” Matt asks.
“Excuse you?” I snap.
“Hey, we aren’t at the office. Here, you’re not my boss. You’re my friend and you need help. Also, I need a beer. Can I get a beer? And whatever Sadie wants.”
“Are we really doing this right now?” I ask, bracing my head in my hand and willing back the headache I feel coming.
“We’re really doing this right now,” he says.
“Chardonnay?” Sadie asks the bartender, who just stares at her. “Okay. Whiskey on the rocks.”
Matt looks at her with a smirk, and she smiles back. “What? I’m Irish.”
“You have until I finish drinking this glass of whiskey to tell me what you want,” I say.
“I want you to get your head out of your ass,” Matt says, and Sadie swats him.
“What he means is you need to talk to Olivia,” she says.
“Says the girl who is supposed to be her best friend and also tried to sabotage her happiness,” I argue.
“So you’re admitting you two were happy together. As in, happy in love,” she says with a smirk, and my eyes narrow.
“So now you’re suddenly okay with that?”
I don’t usually argue like this. Like a teenager. But between the whiskey and the pain in my chest, I’m not really myself right now. I think my choice of bars confirms that.
“What Sadie means is that you were both fucking with each other, then you fell for each other, then you fucked with each other again. Now both of you are hurt and miserable. It’s obvious that you should be together.
So do that. Go find her. Talk to her. And figure this out so the rest of us can stop dealing with your shit,” Matt says, and Sadie smiles and nods.
But I’m not so easily persuaded.
“You left out the part where she is running a podcast about how I’m the world’s biggest catfish and the entire thing was just a ploy to destroy my reputation,” I say, taking another sip and sucking my teeth afterwards.
“And you left out the part about how you haven’t even listened to her entire podcast,” Matt says.
“Don’t need to,” I state. “I’ve heard enough.”
Matt opens his mouth to say something, but Sadie tramples him.
“No, you absolutely have not fucking heard enough,” she says. “Because while you and I were talking that day and I was telling you all about the podcast, Olivia was busy airing her most recent episode of her podcast. An episode that she never finished.”
“Probably because people realized that what she did was fucked up,” I say, taking another sip. And Matt has the gall to rip it from my hand.
“No. That’s not why,” he snaps, and I am about to ask where he gets off, but Matt doesn’t give me the chance. “And if you listened to the damn podcast episode, you’d know that.”
I stop, studying my friend and Olivia’s friend and the attention we have attracted. I hate to say it, but I’m starting to agree with Sadie. This place is sketchy AF, and I want to get out of here.
“Listen,” I say to both of them. “I know you guys are just trying to help. But I don’t need help. Olivia was using me. She was using me and then she lied to me. And as far as I am concerned, that’s not really acceptable.”
“What’s not acceptable is that you, a man who is all about logistics and realism and proof versus opinion, are too stubborn to look at the facts,” Sadie says.
“Or too afraid,” Matt presses, and I glare at him.
“I have nothing to be afraid of.”
“Nothing or everything…” he says and I pound the rest of my aged whiskey before shoving up from the barstool.
“You know what?” I growl at both of them. But they’re just smirking, and it makes it hard for me to say what I was going to say to them. Which was to respectfully fuck off. Instead, I throw some cash on the bar, enough to cover all the drinks, and grab my jacket.
“Are we leaving?” Sadie asks eagerly after tossing back her own whiskey.
“I am leaving,” I say. “You two do what you want.” Then I stop and look back at them. “Maybe take her to dinner,” I tell Matt. “She deserves it.”
With that, I head for the door.
“Listen to the podcast!” Sadie calls out, and I intend to do just that.
I get into my car and let out a heavy sigh. I’m frustrated. For one, can’t a man just enjoy a drink and hang out in his own head for a while? But also…I have that same itching feeling I did the last time Sadie told me to listen to the podcast. Only this time it feels different.
I go to the episode and set my phone down as I drive, looking down at it every once in a while. Then I finally get tired of it staring up at me, filling my car with anticipation and tension.
“Fuck it,” I say, pressing play.
And I listen. I listen as her coworkers do what they can to keep the script on track, while Olivia deviates from it, questions it, and eventually goes quiet.
The tension between her and the other girl is obvious even without being able to see their faces.
And it occurs to me that at some point, Olivia walks out.
She walks away. And based on timing, that was right before I texted her about fettuccine.
Suddenly, I am sitting at a red light, questioning everything.