Page 5 of The Other Guy

16: Probably both. Lol

I remove my cap, run a hand through my hair and replace it. Bill curved, pulled down low. I’ve worn this cap for over a decade and it’s perfect. Frayed at the bill, the once black now faded to a dark gray cap probably needs to be thrown away but that’ll never happen.

Me: Well then, glad I could be of service.

16: Maybe I’ll see you around?

Me: Yeah. Maybe.

16: Have a good weekend.

What? That’s it? I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed that she didn’t continue texting with me.

Me: You, too.

I wait for those three bubbles to pop up again but they never do. I eat the last of my boring dinner and turn on Netflix. Sighing, I know I need to do something with my life that includes more than eating on my couch while I binge watch shows or play video games. That is, when I’m not at the gym.

The problem, though, is that I’m at a weird stage. Most of my friends have families. That’s not right. Not most. All. All of them. I’m the only single guy in my group of friends as well as my family and I feel like a dipshit begging them to hang out with me. There are members of the gym who are single, but most are quite a bit younger than me or the only thing we have in common is boxing.

Fuck it.

I’m better than this.

I turn off the TV, take a quick shower, and throw on a pair of faded jeans and a dark green plaid flannel. After lacing up my dark brown boots and throwing on my ball cap, I tuck my phone into my front pocket and head out. There’s one bar in our town and even if none of my close friends are hanging out there, I have no doubt that I’ll know at least a few people. Benefits of small town life.

It takes me only ten minutes to drive from my house across town to The Landing. I back my raised-up four-door Jeep Wrangler into a parking spot so it’s easier when I leave, which will probably be after only a single drink, and head inside.

The music is loud but not obnoxiously so.

The crowd is heavy but not so much that no one can move around.

And best of all, everyone seems to be happy.

The Landing is actually one of my favorite places in town. When I go out, I mean. Lately, I’ve fallen in love with my couch. Not in the lazy way, but in a comfortable being with myself way. It’s not a bad thing — I love being home. I’m content there. But is just being content enough? I’m starting to think it isn’t.

I slide onto a stool at the bar and tip my head up to the owner, motioning toward my favorite beer that he has on tap. With a quick nod, he finishes whatever order he’s working on and flips an empty glass under the tap and pours me a beer. Kyle has been around since I was a kid. He was the first person to kick me out of a bar when I was underage and the first one to serve me a beer when I was finally legal. I don’t think he ever takes a day off or goes on a vacation. He’ll probably die here. In his early 60s, he still bartends most nights and serves customers regularly. He never married. Never had kids. He’s been married to his job his entire life.

I stare at him, wondering if that’s me in the next thirty years. He doesn’t seem unhappy or lonely, though that could be because he’s always surrounded by a crowd of people.

“Here ya go.”

“Thanks, Kyle.”

“Whatchya doin’ in here tonight, Jack?”

I shrug, take a long drink of the ice cold honey brew he slides my way, and set the beer back down on the bar. Kyle’s leaning over, hands spread wide. For a man in his 60s, he’s in pretty good shape. Comes to the gym once in a while and spars with a few of the guys. They take it easy on him, for the most part, which always fuels him up, not wanting to be treated differently just because he’s older. But I’ve seen him lay out a kid or two by knowing just the right time and place to lay a punch.

“Bored at home. Figured I’d get my ass off the couch for a night and be in the land of the living.”

“Glad you joined us.”

“Us? Like you and the entire room full of customers?” I smirk but he’s not watching me. He’s looking across the room.

“My niece Sierra is here visiting.” With a jerk of his head, he motions to a woman standing by one of the pool tables. Her back is to me, long dark hair pulled into a ponytail that still damn near reaches her ass, which even from where I’m sitting looks full and round and perfect.

I turn back to Kyle and raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had a niece.”

“Only niece, to be exact. She’s my brother’s daughter. Only family I’d claim as my own.”

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