Last Call (a short story) Part One

“Last Call!!!”

Well there’s my cue. Time to go home. Question is, will it be my apartment? Or Kim’s? I would rather it be her place than mine. She has the bigger bed and the more comfortable mattress. She also cooks a mean breakfast which is the best part of our drunken romps honestly. But Kim has her eye on the new guy from the kitchen. He’s so new I don’t even recall his name yet. Only been with the bar a couple weeks. Honestly we don’t learn new names very well unless you can hold onto the job for at least a month.

All the ladies are trying to snag the poor sap right now. He’s good looking, with a chiseled Superman chin, dark hair, bright blue eyes, clearly knows his way around the weight machines even though he claims he’s never been to a gym. I hate guys like him. Good looking and charming. And not the sleazebag, bro kind. A genuinely nice and handsome guy. God he makes me sick.

I order one more shot of Wild Turkey and a highball to chase it with.

“Hey Viv!”, call out to the bartender, “what do I owe ya?”

“You’re all set”, Viv tells me for apparently the third time in the past 8 minutes.

“You paid your tab and Kim’s tab and chef’s tab already. Go home and I will see you tomorrow, ok? Be safe.”

Viv has been an angel to us tired and thirsty bartenders and cooks for years now. She’s always ready with our favorite drinks, puts up with our bitching sessions about the shift we just finished, she breaks up the occasional fight better than any of the the muscle bound bouncers, she plays the best music on the jukebox and maintains order in a bar full of drunken idiots, all with a smile that could stop your heart instantly. Viv is the best. No one will argue that fact.

“Viv!” I called out one more time, trying to maintain composure as that last shot hits my head hard.

“Viv, can I pay my tab? I have to go home now.”

Viv just ignored me.

Steve stumbles up to me like a toddler just learning to walk.

“Hey Frank! Can I ride home with you? I don’t have money for a cab.”

“Dude just take a Lyft.” I replied.

“I can’t.” said Steve

“What do you mean ‘you can’t’? Just pull out your phone and call a Lyft. It’s pretty easy. The app even remembers your home address so you don’t even really have to try”

I like Steve but sometimes he just likes to make things more difficult than it needs to be.

“No more Lyft for me,” Steve said, “got kicked off the app.”

“Again?!” I said. I wasn’t too shocked. Steve is a mess of a drunk. He probably threw up in another car again.

“What did you do this time? Puke again?”

“Nope. I punched the driver”

Ok this was new. Steve, even though a nasty drunk, was always a lover not a fighter. Why on earth would he punch the driver? This I had to hear.

“Why did you punch the driver?” I asked curiously but also deep down inside I regretted it. I’m sure it’s a stupid reason that will be a waste of my time. I still want to make sure I can go home with Kim. But how do I get her away from her girlfriends and the new guy. What is his name, damnit?! It won’t be impressive if I try to compete with a guy whose name I can’t even remember. Does he have a nickname yet?

Steve had started to slur his way through the story about punching the Lyft driver, repeatedly interrupting himself, to throw one liners at any girl within eyesight. He thinks he’s god’s gift to women when he’s drunk.

What is the new guy's name?

Viv walks down to the bar reminding all of us one by one, in her most charming of ways, to get the fuck out of the bar.

“Steve, would you get to the point, we gotta go.” I said, not really paying attention to Steve.

But then he did get to the point.

“I punched him because he was talking some right-wing nonsense, which is fine, whatever. Everyone is entitled to their opinions. But then he said something along the lines of ‘women don’t need to be in politics. Just read the Bible and look at history. Women are meant for cooking and fucking’, the words were barely out of his mouth when I took a right hook to his temple. That was the car accident I was in last month, remember”

“Oh shit, man, that was what caused your accident?!”

Steve is an idiot but he has noble intentions.

“Look man, I wish I could help, but I am going home with Kim tonight. Opposite direction of your place. Go ask Paul if you can ride with him. He’s got his car tonight.”

Steve laughed, “You’re not going home with Kim dude, sorry.”

“Oh yeah! Why not?”

“Because she just left with Clark”

“Clark?! Who the hell is Clark?” I asked, scanning the bar for Kim’s location. She couldn’t have left. She almost always lets me come over. I mean she told me during our shift that she rented movies. “Rented movies” was always code for “you’re coming over tonight”. More of a command than a request honestly. So there is no way she left with whoever this Clark clown is.

“Clark is the new kitchen guy” Steve replied, “they left five minutes ago.”

I leapt from my barstool like a scared chipmunk running up a tree, chasing it’s mate.

No way, no way, no way! There is no way she left. I dashed out the door. Maybe she is just smoking. Kim smokes occasionally when she drinks.

A quick scan of the sidewalk and alley way. No sign of Kim. Or Clark. Of course his name is Clark. Motherfucker looks like fucking Superman.

I stumble back to the door of the bar. Struggle to pull it open. That whiskey is taking hold of my extremities.

“Viv!” I shout from the front of the bar, “what’s my tab?”

“Go home, Frank!” she yelled back.

I slither back out of the bar. I’m not ready to go home yet. I was really looking forward to breakfast at Kim’s in the morning. Which reminds me, I’m hungry. Where is the nearest bodega? I need a sandwich, or a pizza. Yes pizza! That’s what the doctor ordered. Tony’s pizza is just around the corner. I’m headed there, then home. Maybe.