Page 2 of Tell Me No

This isn’t the first time he’s made comments about his parents, but even now, five years later, it doesn’t hurt any less.

“I miss them,” he whispers, dropping the topic of Isabella completely.

“Me too,” I reply, and it’s true.

Growing up, I didn’t have anyone but my grandma. I felt Tony’s parents were mine, too, in a way. They looked out for me when grandma was sick and made sure I was taken care of when she died. They never had to, considering we were only neighbors, but knowing how close Anthony and I were made them feel responsible for me too.

“What are you doing right now?” Tony asks, breaking me from the confines of all the sad thoughts.

“I was sleeping, Anthony. It’s midnight. What else would I be doing?”

“We have a couple of hours before Frank’s closes. Want to grab a few drinks?” He asks with desperation dripping from his words.

It’s our own little code. Frank’s is where we go when we need a break or an escape, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

“It’s midnight on a fucking Tuesday,” I laugh. “But you know I won’t say no.”

I can practically hear his shrug and see him shake his head in the way he always does. “Just need my best friend, Mia.”

Sucking in a deep breath I let it out and stand from my bed. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

TWO

It didn’t takeme long to get ready considering I quite literally fell into my bed still dressed and make-up still painted on my face from work. I hurried and fixed what make-up didn’t rub off onto my pillow, stripped out of my wrinkled clothes and threw on fresh ones, then slipped back into my heels.

I could have driven really, considering it’s mid-November and pretty chilly, but Frank’s is a ten minute walk and I have the protection of my peacoat, only it doesn’t cover my exposed calves.

When the flashing neon mounted on the crumbling brick comes into sight, I look both ways knowing no cars will be on the road this late, then hurry and cross the street. Gripping the thick golden handle to the door, I pull it open and am met with the smell of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and dust.

There is nothing special about Frank’s other than the fact we’ve been coming here ever since we hit twenty-one. It’s run down and filled with nothing but regular locals. The linoleum on the floor is chipping and stained, the pool tables slant, and the jukebox only plays three songs. But, it’s sentimental.

When the first anniversary of his parents' death came, it hit him hard. An entire year of being without them and it was almost worse than the night he lost them. Trying to keep his mind off it, I did the only thing I could think would help. Of course, drinking when upset isn’t the most responsible thing to do, but I was just as hurt, and drowning our sorrows in a bottle of cheap scotch sounded like a pretty good fucking time.

Only, he didn’t like the idea. He didn’t want to go to some upscale place where the music was louder than the conversation we could have. So, we sought out the quietest place we could find. Thus, the tradition of cheap scotch and long talks was born at Frank’s.

I step through the threshold and point my sight to the center of the bar where I know Tony will be. It’s only been maybe a week since I’ve seen him last, but this time he looks different. Maybe he got his hair trimmed, or maybe it’s the fact that sitting on the barstool isn’t my best friend. He may say he’s fine about Isabella leaving, but that’s still someone he spent an entire year with, and instead of looking broken and sad he looks… Happy.

I trail across the dirty floor, my heels tapping lightly against the checkered pattern as I go until I’m standing directly behind him. He’s always been taller than me, but with him seated and the elevation of my heels, I can actually see the top of his head.

“Anthony?”

He turns around and flashes me a beaming smile before stretching out his arms. “Mia!”

Before I can get another word out, he stands towering over me, then wraps his arms over my shoulders and literally suffocates me against his chest.

I cling to his waist for a moment, relishing in how good it feels to just hold him again, then dig my nails into his side when my need for air becomes too much.

He releases me quickly, holding me at arm's length to look at me up and down. “It’s amazing how good you can look when you roll out of bed.”

I roll my eyes and slap his chest before breaking his hold and sliding onto the stool next to him. “You’re such a fucking player.”

He raises a brow and holds up his hands. “What did I do?”

I roll my eyes again then look at the bartender with a nod. We’ve been coming here long enough he already knows what I want. Then, I look back at Anthony. “You knew if you sounded wounded enough I would crawl out of bed to come here. But you seem perfectly fine to me.”

He shrugs and shakes his head, letting his hair brush over his forehead, then pushes it back with a smirk. “I mean, I’m bummed, but I missed you too. Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

“Then you could have called me tomorrow during normal people hours.”

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