more of my furniture, which he’s prone to do. “It’s fine.”
Jimmy narrows his eyes. “No, it’s not. He complains about the drink, but he drained the whole damn thing.”
The guy, reconsidering, opens his wallet, throws a ten down, and hurries out the door.
“And don’t come back, asshole!” Jimmy shouts after him. Then he leans on the bar. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”
“Nothing,” I mutter.
“But your hand!” Lizzy points at it. It’s covered in blood.
“No big deal.” I wrap a clean dishrag around it. They’re still studying me, waiting for me to say more. “Look. This is your night. Have fun. We’ll talk later.”
“Later” ends up being at three in the morning. I announce last call at two, but the bar doesn’t fully clear out until an hour later. Jimmy helps me round up the last of the stragglers. By then, Lizzy’s curled up in his “office,” sleeping on the bench under one of his flannel shirts.
“So why you been giving everyone that look?” he asks me as I pour two tequilas. “That I want to rip off your head and shit down your neck look?”
I toss back the entire glass in one gulp. “I’m broke.”
“All right. Well, you’ve run into hard times before, and—”
“This ain’t like before. I’ve been getting more and more in the red for years. The bank’s done. They told me I got a whole shitload of mortgages I didn’t even know my grandfather took out on this place, and I need to pay up in full by the end of the year. Which ain’t gonna happen, ’cause I gotta pay Gran’s nursing home bills.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
Jimmy chokes and looks around. “No offense, Luke, but this place ain’t worth half a mil.”
“I know. My place upstairs is an even bigger shithole than down here.”
“Hell. This place has been in your family for years.”
I don’t want to think about that. My granddad was the “Tim” of Tim’s Bar. To have his legacy end with me blows hardcore.
“That place your grandmother’s in is like the Ritz.”
I nod. “And she’s gonna stay there. She has friends there. She plays mah-jongg with them and shit. She’s happy.”
Jimmy looks over toward his office, where his girlfriend is sleeping soundly, and I know exactly what’s on his mind. “Well, Lizzy has a soft spot for this—”
“No. Don’t tell her. I know Lizzy. I know she’ll give me the money in a heartbeat. I don’t want it from her. I don’t want to be in debt to anyone.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy, but he nods anyway. “All right. Then what?”
“Pray for a miracle?” I shrug. “Hell if I know.”
He leans on the bar, thinking. “No. You don’t need a miracle. I’ve got your answer right here.” He goes over to his office and pulls a sheet of paper off the messy pile on the table. “These guys wanted to put an ad on my channel. They’re holding tryouts for a new reality TV show in this area tomorrow. The top prize is a million dollars.”
I stare at the sheet. “Million Dollar Marriage? I don’t watch that reality shit. What is it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. It says contestants must be between the ages of twenty-five and forty-nine, in good physical shape, and up for adventure. That’s all. That’s you, man.”
I laugh. “That’s you.”
“Yeah. But I don’t need the money. And you’ve got a face for the camera, man. The ladies’ll lap you up.”
“All right, all right,” I say, scratching my chin. “I’ll think about it.”
I close up the bar, say good night to my friends, and go upstairs to my two-bedroom shithole. I used to live up here with my grandparents until he died and she suffered the first of many strokes that put her in the nursing home. Back when we were living together up here, Gran had made it homey, with curtains and candles and womanly touches. But I don’t do that shit. I’m barely home to take care of it.
Even the bar downstairs is falling apart in my hands. At first I’d had this sense of pride. Owning my own place at twenty-three, taking care of business. It was a complete one-eighty from where I’d been just five short years before. I’d felt like a success for the first time in my life. A poster child for all those addicts out there who think it’s not possible to pull out of the hole.
But it hasn’t been easy. And now? I feel like shit.