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The day after the Superbowl was generally quiet at the Red Maple Saloon. Most people had blown their cash and at least a week’s worth of calories on the championship game. A few fans might wander in to lick their wounds, but Boston was light on both Broncos and Panthers enthusiasts. As such, Ruby had plenty of time to lean on the bar and crack open peanuts. The bartender’s uniform consisted of a black tank top with a tree screen-printed on the front, jeans, and pair of cowgirl boots. A silver feather pendant dangled in her cleavage. An expensive jukebox played a medley of classic rock hits in the corner. The opening notes of the Eagles’ hit “I Can’t Tell You Why” added to her sense of lethargy.
no subject
Date: 2016-02-09 02:15 am (UTC)Nothing worst for a psychologist than to learn a client committed suicide. The worst part was she did not even see it coming. She felt she had failed and it made her question the whole encounter two weeks ago at his house. He fooled me? I know what I saw, but was it real? I have no proof. Was it all in my head? How did I miss it? These thoughts and others repeated over and over.
A big pile of snow blocking the side walk finally stopped her. She was at the Red Maple. It didn’t look like the snow was going to let off any time soon. Her shoulders and hair was covered with flakes. She had left her parka with the hoodie at the office, she just had her overcoat. She was not particularly hungry, but a drink or two might be the thing she needed at the moment. She walked in.
Once inside she brushed off the show. She noticed the place was pretty empty. It didn’t matter and before the hostess asked. “Just having a drink,” she walked to the bar.
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Date: 2016-02-09 09:08 pm (UTC)"Aww, you look like someone kicked your puppy," she said. "Let's turn that frown upside down. Name your poison."
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Date: 2016-02-11 05:39 am (UTC)When she returned to bar, “You know, I never had a puppy of my own.”
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Date: 2016-02-12 09:34 pm (UTC)"Oh yeah, why not?"
Ruby added cognac, cointreau, and ice to a shaker, her hands moving with skill and speed. She sliced a fresh lemon in half and squeezed juice into the concoction before closing it. As she shook the drink, she pulled a sugar-rimmed cocktail glass from nearby.
She assessed the customer. Judging from the quality of the woman's coat and clothing, she wasn't strapped for cash... Probably had a tidy little set-up in a downtown building overlooking the historic inner harbor.
"Let me guess. Your condo association isn't down with the cause."
The beverage, now strained, chilled, and resting in a conical glass, arrived at the woman's fingertips
no subject
Date: 2016-02-14 01:45 am (UTC)She reached for her glass and then noticed the sugared rim. “Can you make another? This is my fault, and I’ll pay for it, but I prefer my Sidecar without the sugar," paused for a beat. "I’m not a sweet.”
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Date: 2016-02-14 05:15 am (UTC)Ruby considered showing the brunette a fun trick one could perform with a napkin (such useful things), but she managed to take the glass and pivot away before the look on her face revealed itself. The bartender wasn't the type to admit fault, or acknowledge when a customer had made a reasonable request. After several years in the service industry, she had learned that silent, speedy acquiescence was a decent substitute.
In her personal life, she walked a fine line between not giving a fuck enough to make a complaint and making one so egregious that employees contemplated suicide afterward. At least this ritzy chick had balls enough to voice an objection, when many women would shrivel up and just take it, whatever it may be, in weak-willed misery. Thus Ruby's temporary miff dissolved.
"Neither am I," she said, pulling a fresh glass and giving the other half of the lemon a healthy squeeze. "But you know what? Sweet is overrated." Orange liqueur and brandy combined with the citrus and she poured the spirits again. "No charge."
She tipped her head back and drank the rejected cocktail in three swallows.
no subject
Date: 2016-02-14 07:27 am (UTC)Before she could taste her new drink, the lady behind the bar had finished the other. “Damn,” she said impressed. Finally, she took a long sip. "It's perfect."
Her phone notified her again that she received another text message. She quickly lifted her phone off the bar, and read the message. Shook her head, and just place the phone face down again on the bar.
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Date: 2016-02-14 08:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-06 04:34 am (UTC)“I should have saw this coming,” she shook her head, thinking to herself, I’m a psychologist. “I was distracted, became obsessed with all things about ghosts. Then the fucking bastard hung himself. What the fuck am I going to do now?”