Page 4 of Merry Mayhem
“This was theagreement!” she says. “Youpromised! What am I supposed to do now? It’s intwo days!”
I look down at the best shrimp po’boy sandwich I’ve ever had. And that’s saying something. The woman who cooks at the restaurant where I usually eat is a hell of a cook. I’m not that partial to po’boys generally. They’re a little boring in my opinion. Not that I’d ever even think of uttering such a thing inside the borders of this state. Jesus, I’m not an idiot. But when there are things like muffalettas or jambalaya or even just red beans and rice, why would I go with a plain sandwich like a po’boy? All of those other things are far superior. But this one? It’s the remoulade sauce. It’s gotta be. Or the seasoning on the shrimp. Or the breading on the shrimp. Or all of the above. The bread is pretty fucking good too.
I want another bite, but it feels a little rude to keep eating in front of the bartender while she’s clearly getting dumped right before Christmas.
That really sucks.
I can relate.
Kind of.
Sure, I was dumped like eighteen months ago, not just before Christmas, but still.
Actually…can I call it a dumping when we weren’t really together, and Sierra just finally officially told me it was never going to happen and that she’d fallen in love with someone else?
Sure,feltlike a dumping.
Not that I had anything to compare it to. I’d never been dumped before.
But it hadreallysucked and had been followed by three nights of booze and wallowing in my feelings.
I don’t remember the wallowing, but the people around me finally got sick of it and told me about it when they said I’d had enough time and needed to pull myself together.
And then there was three months ago when she’d gotten married to the guy.
That had sucked a lot, too. My friends had given me another twenty-four hours of drunken wallowing, but not a second more. They claimed that I should have already been past that from the eighteen months prior.
They probably had a point.
“Asshole!”
I’m pulled from my thoughts of Sierra by the bartender slamming her phone down on the bar right by my plate.
“Oh shit!” She immediately picks it back up and checks the screen. She sags in relief, then gives me a sheepish smile. “I can’t afford to replace another broken phone. I just got this one after throwing my last one at the wall.”
I lift a brow.
“I’m not nice to phones. That’s what my mom says. Right after she says no, I can’t have or borrow money to replace whichever one I just smashed.”
“There’s been more than the one against the wall?”
“One with a shoe. Broke the heel on the shoe too. That Iextraregretted. And there was one I threw at a TV. Broke the TV too, but it wasn’t mine and he deserved it, so I didn’t regret that.”
She smiles.
Well, that’s something. I didn’t smile for a week after Sierra dumped me.
Itwasa dumping. Come on. Telling a person that it’s never going to happen between you when you’ve known the person for years, know the personfollowed you to another state,and is obviously in love with you? That qualifies.
“Oh, and I ran over a phone once,” the bartender adds. “But that phone wasn’t mine, so I’m not sure if I should count that.”
“Well, that wasn’t being nice to the phone,” I point out.
“True.” She grins. “Do you need a refill?”
“Sure.”
She tops off my soda.
