for work that evening, and then he and Sassy made a couple of trips back and forth, bringing in the rest of his things from the trailer. He put everything away and laid out his date-night outfit—starched jeans, ironed pearl-snap shirt, polished boots—just like Melanie liked for him to wear on Saturday night. After a quick shower, he got dressed, told Sassy that she was in charge until either he or Jolene got home, and headed for the bar. Only this time he didn’t turn north to go to the Tipsy Gator, but south instead. He’d been to a little dive in the backwoods down near the interstate, and that’s where he planned to go.
“Don’t matter if we go to a steak house or get tacos from a wagon and eat them in a park as long as we’re together. I’m not letting go of her,” he said out loud. “I will not forget that Saturday is date night.” He turned on the radio to his favorite country music station and kept time to the music with his thumbs on the steering wheel.
He always thought about Melanie as he drove to the bar on Saturday night. It was his time to replay highlights of their years together. It might be every detail he could remember about their wedding or their first fight or just crazy incidents that had happened during their five-year marriage. But that night it was about their last night together.
They’d sat out by the lake on a quilt, talked about starting a family, but decided to wait one more year. After all, midthirties wasn’t too old to be a mommy and daddy, and it still gave them time to have the children they’d always talked about. The stars had been bright that night, and the moon was full. If only he’d known that in twenty-four hours his world would fall apart, he would have done things differently.
When he reached the bar, finding a parking spot wasn’t a problem, but getting inside the bar was a different matter. There was a note on the door that simply said the place was closed and for sale.
I want tacos, not beer or Jack and Coke, Melanie said so clearly that he could’ve sworn she was walking beside him.
“Not tonight, darlin’. I need a few drinks to sharpen my memories of you. I’m enjoying being around Jolene entirely too much,” he said as he got back into the truck. “If I’d waited a few weeks, I could have owned a bar instead of a bed-and-breakfast,” he grumbled as he headed to the Southern Comfort. The drinks were more expensive and the crowd a little high-class for his taste, but maybe Melanie wouldn’t fuss about tacos if she saw he was taking her to a fancy place.
Everything happens for a reason.
“You’re in my head again. Dammit, Melanie, the way you pop in and out makes me dizzy.” He caught the interstate going west.
Let me go. You can only keep the memories if they don’t destroy you. And it’s okay if you have feelings for Jolene.
“I should have gone to the store that night,” he said.
He listened intently, but she was gone. A song came on the radio that brought back a memory of the two of them dancing in their bare feet in the backyard one night when they’d taken their burgers to go and spent the night at home. He smiled and waited. Still no Melanie.
The parking lot at the Southern Comfort wasn’t as crowded as the Tipsy Gator always was on Saturday night. He found a spot not far from the door and headed inside. There was a barstool open away from everyone else, which was a good sign.
It’s a fancy place, a club, so don’t fuss at me, Melanie.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
The kid hardly looked old enough to be pouring drinks. He was dressed in skintight pants and a knit shirt. A lock of blue hair hung down over one eye. There was live music—a piano player, who had a fantastic voice if a person liked that kind of music.
Tucker didn’t. He wanted classic country music coming from a jukebox and some boots stomping on the hardwood floor.
“Double shot of whiskey, neat,” he said.
“Yes, sir. Want me to start a tab?”
Tucker took a bill from his wallet and laid it on the bar. “No, I’ll pay as I go.”
The bartender flipped his blue hair to the side. “You’re almost a dollar short.”