The Silver Lining Read Free Page B

This is the type of shit I dealt with, when it came to her. That’s why I walked away from her years ago. If it wasn’t for circumstances I wouldn’t be here, and I think she knew it. I guess we would both needed to learn how to play nice with each other, until I got my shit together again. I started to walk out of my room, when I saw the pretty, young thing from earlier. The cleaning girl. She looked at me nervously. I pulled out my keys.
    “I didn’t say anything about the knife, or your fine dancing for that matter,” I said, as I locked the door. My tone was clipped.
    I watched her swallow the lump in her throat. She looked so innocent standing there, and it appeared as if she wanted to say something, but like an asshole I didn’t give her the chance to. I just turned and walked down the hallway. I felt a little bad for some reason, and part of me wondered what she had to say, but the other part of me was so angry at Nikki and my mother, I didn’t care. I grabbed my mother’s keys off of the table without asking her, and jumped into her black Beamer parked outside.
    I knew exactly where to go to cool down. The Blue Moon Bar was the best place around to get a nice stiff drink and forget your troubles. I know, because I used to bartend there. Maybe while I was there, I could talk to Mike, the bar owner, to see if he would let me come on board again. I don’t know how he felt about me, after all the rumors and my case. It’s pretty hard to convince people that what you did, was not really what you did. It’s not going to hurt to ask and the worst thing he could say was no.
    I looked down at the speedometer to notice how fast I was driving. I forgot how good it felt to drive a car. The windows were all down and the air against my face felt amazing. I really had missed these simple joys. It’s wasn’t long before I pulled into the parking lot of the bar. I parked, sprang out of the car and sprinted toward the door. As I entered I was hit with the familiar scent of leather seats, hard liquor and cigars. Now this was my type of place. I spotted Mike behind the bar. It was hard to miss him. He was about five feet and eleven inches. He had a stocky build. His brownish, gray hair was a little longer than last time I saw him. It sat messy at his ears. He smiled and his eyes lit up as he saw me. He tossed his hands in the air.
    “James, how in the hell are you, my brother?” he said, as he worked his way around the bar so that he could hug me.
    “I’m good, man.”
    “When did you get out?” he asked, as he pulled away.
    “Today. I literally got home about an hour ago.” I smiled.
    “Well, shit, man. Have a seat. I’ll pour you a drink or two on the house.” He paused. “Whiskey okay?”
    “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks.”
    He made his way back behind the bar and started grabbing things. He turned around, and instead of a shot glass, he put a normal sized glass in front of me. He placed the whiskey bottle next to it. I looked down at the setup and chuckled. I poured just a little in the glass and then downed it. Immediate liquor burn filled my throat. I tightly, closed my eyes and shook it off.
    “So, man, what the hell happened? I heard you got busted for drugs,” Mike said, as he leaned against the bar. “Word on the street had it that somebody else was involved.”
    “I let my guard down and trusted a friend I shouldn’t have. The drugs…not my fault,” I replied.
    “I knew it. That ain’t you. I told people, that ain’t James. No way.”
    I grabbed the bottle and poured whiskey into my glass. A little more liquid courage will do the trick. I’ll just transition from talking about my prison case to asking for work. Ugh! Now or never.
    “It was tough to pull this off, but the courts are allowing me bar work again. You guys need help around here? You hiring?” I nervously asked.
    “Wow. They hardly ever let someone with what you have on your record work anywhere around liquor.”
    “Right.