Diamond Shoes
"Another. Double this time."
The lanky stranger had been in here once or twice before, but the bartender didn't remember him as the drowning-his-sorrows type. He'd come in for a beer, maybe two, and once he'd stayed long enough to catch a Knicks game.
But he hadn't ordered real drinks then, and tonight he was knocking them back like an old pro.
She set the double bourbon in front of him.
Then she went back to wiping the counter and drawing Miller Lite off the tap for the loud duo at the other end of the bar.
"Both of 'em. I never thought I'd have to deal with both of 'em."
She was busy, but she hadn't earned a reputation for being a good bartender just by mixing excellent martinis. She heard him and wondered if this was the right time to ask him what's up, or if she should eighty-six him.
"I mean, Diana was gone. She wasn't ever coming back. I didn't think she'd show up like this; never thought I'd have to deal with both of them at once."
The bartender moved closer, now wiping clean shot glasses in between mixing those martinis.
"You okay there?"
"Yeah." He swallowed his drink. "Got anymore?"
She hesitated. "Sure."
She poured the drink and regarded him as he took a small sip. "Wanna talk about it?" A roar erupted from the other end of the bar as the Red Sox scored two runs off the Yankees.
He looked up at her, his eyes taking an extra second to focus on her. "You ever been in love with two women?"
She laughed. "No, can't say that I have," she said, gesturing to her full figure.
He ignored it, or just didn't notice. "I have. I am. I don't know. One...she was gone. Left for parts unknown. I thought she left because of me. My work, my obsession."
"But she's back."
He swallowed another couple of sips and nodded.
"Yeah."
"She wants you back."
"Maybe. I think so. She held my hand today, and she looked up at me, so sweet. Old times, you know."
"But..."
"But there's this other woman. We've been together, well, we haven't been together." He smiled ruefully. "We're partners. I...she..."
The bartender walked away for a moment, to draw a Guinness for the waiter standing patiently in front of the bar. "Busy night, huh?"
"Yeah. Always is, when the big games are on."
The waiter nodded and took the stein out into the crowd. The bartender returned to her lovelorn patron.
He was in the middle of a sentence, seeming not to have noticed that there was no one to listen. "...and when
she called she sounded so suspicious. So defeated, even. And now I don't know what to think."
"Has she ever said anything? Have you?"
He looked up at her and took a drink. "No. We aren't like that." His voice sounded sure and firm, despite the alcohol, but his next sentence was less so. "What am I going to do? How do I choose? Do I choose?"
He gestured for another refill.
The bartender shook her head.
He put a ten on the bar.
She changed her mind, poured another double.
A man sat down next to her patron. "Vodka. Straight." He looked over at the bourbon double, surveyed his neighbor. "Feelin' a little down, are we?"
No response.
"You know, I heard you whinin' 'bout your partner, 'bout your ex blowin' into town."
He took a drink of his double, ignoring the newcomer.
"Get off it, man. You know how many guys would kill to be in your place?" He took a swig of the vodka.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh yeah? Let's see. Two women, and you're in love with both of them. By sheer luck, they're both in love with you, or at least want to get in your pants. Am I right?"
No reply. He signaled for the check. The bartender spoke up. "You're all set, buddy."
The haggler persisted. "Stop feelin' so damned sorry for yourself, man. Take advantage of the situation, instead of cryin' into your whiskey."
The man thanked the bartender and started to turn around. A shout of disappointment pierced the air as the Yankees gave up a run.
"I mean really! 'Oh no! Two women love me! They're both gorgeous and sexy! My wallet's too small for my fifties, and my diamond shoes are too tight!'"
The man swung hard and knocked the haggler off his stool. Vodka all over his leather jacket, the haggler lay out cold on the floor, blood seeping from his broken nose.
The man laid another ten on the bar. "For his drink." The bartender gaped at him.
And the night wore on.