Page 8 of Waiting for Sunshine

I’m in. Where are we going?

LAUREN

Someone at work just told me about this cool bar. I’ll get the address.

LEAH

It’s Tuesday…

ME

TAYLOR

LAUREN

LEAH

OH MY GOD OKAY. What time?

ME

5 o’clock.

* * *

“Lauren, what the hell is this place?” Taylor whips her head around to face her as we stand on the sidewalk outside of the bar. The sign hanging above the door reads Chattahoochies.

“Luther said it’s a really cool place. Come on, let’s just go in.” Lauren rolls her eyes at Taylor’s dramatic questioning.

“What kind of name is Chattahoochiesanyways?” Taylor huffs, folding her arms over her chest.

“Can we just go in and drink before I become a full-time chattahoochie?” I ask, being the first to walk towards the door. When we walk in, the inside matches the name. Unique as hell.

I look around taking in all the eclectic aspects of this place. It isn’t a sports bar, or a bar and grill. It looks to be something of a biker-dive bar/pool hall hybrid. The actual bar is in the center of the back wall, with an oddly shaped, natural wood bar top and a bright neon sign with the bar name hanging above it. There is a hallway off to the left that leads to the restrooms, and pool tables are placed to the right of the bar, with a neon 8-ball sign on the wall.

Black and white photos of, what appeared to be, different biker gangs flood the walls around the pool tables. Between the bar and a random door in the corner, there’s a jukebox that is playing Metallica. Pub tables fill the middle of the floor, while the wall to the left is lined with booths. One booth is reserved and has a single beer sitting on the table, with photos on the wall above of men in uniform and a plaque that readsFor our Fallen Soldiers - Until Valhalla.The rest of the walls are covered in Viking-style weapons and shields. This is by far the coolest bar I have ever walked into.

“Let’s just sit at the bar,” I pull my attention from the reserved table and walk over to the bar.

Once we get seated, the woman behind the bar looks up at us, “What can I get you, ladies?” She’s wearing a cut-up t-shirt with the bar name on it and loose-fitting torn-up jeans. Her makeup is fierce as hell with a thick winged liner and dark lipstick. She has her jet-black hair pulled up in a clip with a few loose pieces falling on the sides of her face. The name tag she has on the side of her shirt readsRuby.

“Well,Ruby, what do you have that will wash away getting cheated on on your anniversary, quitting a job you love, moving 2,000 miles back home, and getting turned down for everysinglejob you’ve applied for?” I ask, with a sarcastic smile. The sarcasm isn’t towards her though, she seems perfectly pleasant – the sarcasm is directed toward my life.

“Tequila it is.” She pours a shot and slides it over.

“Make it four,” I say. She looks at me with wide eyes, and my friends follow suit.

“Oh my god, you guys, they’re not all for me. 1,2,3,4.” I count, pointing at each of us.

“Hell yeah, guess it’s a shots night!” Taylor cheers.

“I’m off tomorrow, let’s do it.” Lauren drums her hands on the bar.

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