head.
“I told you already,” he said. “I don’t want to sell. It’s my bar, and I like owning it. Besides,” he chuckled, and my blood boiled, “business has been booming since your bar went up in flames. I’ve been making money hand over fist, and I didn’t need any dumb-ass gimmicks to do it. Just serving beer. Novel concept for a bar, I know, serve people who like to drink the drinks they like to drink. Anyway, I’m making money, good money, and I have zero reason to take yours unless you are bellying up and buying a round. And even then I don’t know if I want to serve you.”
“Danny,” I began, but he cut me off forcefully.
“I said it once already, and now is my second warning. Get off my property, or else I am going to call the police and have you arrested for trespassing. And on top of that, I might have to stand my ground and defend my homestead, if you know what I mean. So get on out of here. And don’t show me your smug, sniveling face again.”
He slammed the door, and I spun on my heel, stomping back to my car. The son of a bitch had a great way of making me feel like ripping his head off and playing soccer with it, but he was right. Without proof and an officer of the law, all I was doing was proving to him that what he did was worth it. He got under my skin and was making money hand over fist.
He was winning.
And I hated losing.
26
Amanda
I unlocked the door to my apartment and walked inside. It had been almost two months since I was there. The door closed behind me, and I let out a gust of breath as I dropped my bags to my feet and looked around.
It felt strange to be back there. Not in the way that I thought I would never come back. More just that I never could have imagined coming back with this sort of heaviness and finality hanging over me. Something should have been different when I walked back in for the first time. I didn’t know exactly what or how, but it shouldn’t have felt that way.
It was almost like this wasn’t my space anymore. It was exactly like I left it. Everything was in place just the way it always was, and there was even the familiar hint of fabric softener smell that wafted over from my neighbors doing laundry.
The only thing that was visibly changed from the morning when I flew out to Oregon thinking I was just going to bring Tom his laptop, then come back was the small stack of mail sitting on my side table. Emily had been gathering it for me since I realized I wouldn’t be coming back as soon as I thought.
Her having a key to my place was always a matter of convenience before. It meant she could let herself in if we had plans and I hadn’t gotten home yet or I was in the shower when she got there. It also gave us a sense of security in case I managed to lock myself out or if there was some sort of emergency. But this was the first time she needed to use it for any practical application.
When I walked into my kitchen and opened my refrigerator, I was even more relieved to have been able to trust her with taking care of my apartment while I was gone. All the food that was in there when I left was now gone. She had replaced them with a few basic staples. By the expiration date on them, they were a new addition. Probably purchased after I called her from the airport to let her know I was coming home.
But even seeing everything look as I left it and knowing I could go right back into my regular rhythm didn’t make it feel right. I was still out of sorts, like I didn’t quite fit in the environment anymore.
I told myself it was only temporary. It was just because things had been so shaken up by me being gone for several weeks unexpectedly. I would get comfortable there again. I had to get comfortable there again. There was no other choice. This was my reality, and I was back to it now. All I could do was force myself to settle back in and wait for things to feel normal again.
Going back