Of Royal Descent (36 page)

I laid the twenty on the bar
, and my shot glass was refilled.  I drank it as smoothly as if it had been water, surmising my inability to feel pain was the reason the vodka hadn't burned on its way down.  The clink of the glass as I returned it to the bar was audible during the brief moment of silence before the next song came on.  In the following second, Taylor Swift's "I Knew You Were Trouble" came pouring through the speakers.

I raised my glass
, and the bartender hesitated before topping it off once again.  Drink number three slid down the hatch.

"
Darlin', you here by yourself?" asked a feminine voice with a Southern twang. 

I turned to find a young, mostly blonde woman wearing a fake tan and a shirt two sizes too small that strained to contain her ridiculously over-sized chest.  She took a seat on the barstool next to mine and smiled at me.

"It would appear so," I answered flatly, raising my glass once more to the bartender. 

"We'll just have to see what we can do about that," she oozed enthusiastically.

The barman made his way back to my end of the bar and wiped his hands on a towel.

"You sure you don't
wanna give those three drinks a minute to kick in first?" he asked in a father-knows-best kind of way.

"I didn't tell you how to pour the drinks.  I would appreciate it if you didn't tell me how to drink the drinks," I shot back, irritated.  Clearly offended, he began to pour another shot of vodka into my glass.

"Hey, sorry man.  I've had a really shitty day," I apologized.

"It's okay.  That's another $6," he replied, shrugging off the slighted expression he had previously worn.

I pulled a ten dollar bill from my wallet and slid it across the counter. 

"Keep the change."

I downed my fourth shot of Vodka and finally began to feel the first stirrings of serenity spreading through my blood.

"Do you
wanna get out of here?" the blonde asked, rising from her seat and pressing her body into mine.

"Thanks, but I'm not looking for a paid escort.  It's not really my thing," I said, adjusting my body so it no longer came in contact with hers.

"Paid escort?!  I ain't no lady of the night!" she yelled over the din of the music and rowdy customers.

"Really?"
  I could feel my eyebrows furrow as I stared at the woman skeptically.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized I was being rude, but I was genuinely surprised and my ability to adjust my behavior to socially acceptable standards was slow to respond.  Clearly the liquor was having an effect.

"Beth Ann!  Quit embarrassin' yourself and leave him alone before I have to call your brother to come get you!" shouted a man as he closed in on our end of the bar.

"This jerk just called me a hooker!" she yelled back at him.

"Well quit actin' like one.  Go on, git," he said, shooing her away from the vicinity.  She retreated to a table at the back of the bar, eyeing us as she went.

"Sorry 'bout that.  Beth Ann
ain't never been real subtle.  I'm Jimmy," the man said, extending his right hand forward.  His Southern accent was so thick, it took my full attention just to understand him.

"D-Link," I said, barely catching myself in time.  I shook his hand.

"Your name's Dlink?  Huh, ain't heard that one before.  That ain't short for delinquent, is it?"  He smiled broadly at his own joke.

"No, it's just Link," I replied dim-wittedly, conscious of the growing buzz from the vodka.

"Well it's good to meet ya, Just Link," Jimmy said, smiling.  "You just move to town?  I ain't seen ya round and this here is a pretty small place."

"No, I was just passing through when I saw the bar. 
Thought I'd kill some time."  The word
kill
caused vivid images of my recent dinner to flash before me, and my serrated teeth throbbed pleasurably just below my gum line.  My right hand flew to my bottom lip, as if that could somehow hold back my teeth and prevent involuntary shading.

Phoenix
, I spoke to myself, and my body relaxed.

Jimmy was staring at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry.  What did you say?" I asked.

"Friend, I do believe you might be what
is commonly referred to as a lightweight.  You don't drink much, do ya?" Jimmy asked, taking a closer look at me.

"No, not really.
  But I can assure you, I'm not half as drunk as I plan on becoming," I answered, causing Jimmy to give a snort of laughter.

"Well, my daddy always told me if it's worth
doin', it's worth doin' right.  Hey Wade, can we get a pitcher over here?" Jimmy called out to the bartender.  Wade acknowledged the order and began to fill a pitcher with clear, amber beer from the tap.

"Friend, I'm
aimin' to walk this pitcher back to my table," he said, gesturing toward the back of the bar.  "If Beth Ann ain't ran ya off, you're welcome to come join us.  Drinks are on me tonight."  He stood and began walking back to his table.

I had ten dollars left in my wallet which wouldn't even buy me two more shots.  Free drinks sounded good to me.  I stood and followed Jimmy.

Beth Ann, another girl, and two guys stared up at us as we closed the gap to our destination.  Jimmy took his seat and began to go around the table, making introductions.

"Link, this is Dwight, Dale, Cindy, and you've already met Beth Ann."

I nodded cordially to the table of hillbillies before I sat down, taking the only empty seat at the table - next to Beth Ann.  Jimmy handed me a glass of beer, and I accepted it willingly, taking an immediate drink. 

"So, Link, where
abouts you from?" asked Dwight, slightly raising his chin.  This guy was reeking of sour territorial pheromones. 

"I live in Oak Ridge," I said, raking my thumb across the condensation on my glass, wishing a drunken stupor would come and eradicate my memories.  I didn't know what was worse - sitting alone at the bar and thinking about Chuck, or being expected to make small talk with a bunch of rednecks and thinking about Chuck.

Dwight smiled.  "Excuse me, what I meant to say was
what state is listed on your certificate of birth
?" 

He had spoken with over-corrected annunciation
, and I knew he was making fun of my Northern accent.  I didn't care much for Dwight.

"Connecticut," I lied.

Dwight nodded, as if he were thinking,
that figures
.

I chugged the last of my beer and reached for the pitcher to refill my glass.  I definitely had a buzz going on, but I didn't want a buzz.  I wanted my mind erased.  I smiled to myself, thinking of the movie
Men in Black
, where the government would come and erase your memory if you saw something you weren't supposed to see.  Hell, that was me.  I'd seen things no one should see. I'd done things no one should do.  But if Anomaly ever caught up with me, it would be more than mind-erasing they would be interested in.

"Is everyone in Connecticut as rude as you?" asked Beth Ann, who didn't appear to be forgetting about our earlier interaction any time soon.

"I'm sorry I called you an escort.  It was an honest mistake.  Where I'm from, girls aren't nearly so..."  Beth Ann stared at me, waiting for me to finish.

Pushy, aggressive, cheap
... I struggled to find a suitable word that catered to her ego and yet told the truth.

"...
eager
... to meet new people," I floundered.

She beamed a somewhat gap-toothed smile at me, suddenly appeased by my lame explanation.

"Yeah, I wouldn't doubt it.  If I lived up North," Dwight began, knocking on the table, "I sure wouldn't be in no hurry to meet other Northerners either.  They can be pretty rude."

I stared at Dwight, trying to determine if there were any facial features that resembled Kai's.  Maybe I'd found her long-lost
half-brother.  At first, I was amused, but the moment was fleeting.  I began to picture Kai as she probably looked at that moment - eyes swollen and red, curled into the fetal position.  I'm sure someone would have told her about Chuck by now.

I began to chug my second glass of beer
, and a wave of dizziness hit me.  I closed my eyes and finished my drink, welcoming any altered mental status that wasn't the one I held currently.

I felt warmth on my right leg and looked down to find Beth Ann had laid her hand on my knee.  I stared at it a moment, trying to understand.  I turned to look at her.

While Dale and Jimmy began an apparently controversial conversation of who was the better performer between Jason Aldean and Gary Allen, Beth Ann leaned in toward me for privacy.

"Now that you know I'm not a hooker, you
wanna get outta here?"  She licked her lips and slid her hand up my thigh.

"I've got a girl, thanks," I replied as I softly removed her hand before letting it go. 

"Ain't nobody gotta' know," she whispered, invitingly.

I thought of Addy. 
Pale skin, chestnut hair, dark brown eyes.  My blood began to heat, and I squirmed in my seat.  Things might not have been perfect between us at that moment, but I would’ve never betrayed her.  Pheromone-bonded royals mate for life as I had been assuring her of late.

A waitress brought another pitcher to our table
, and everyone refilled their cups, including me.  My current problems with Addy were just one more thing I wanted to escape from.  Explaining why your safe word is the name of your ex-girlfriend when you don't even have a clue as to why is even more complicated than it sounds. 

I raised the glass to my lips.  This one I drank slower, already anticipating the impending detachment from reality.  Maybe it was the combination of the vodka and the beer, or maybe it was the fact that I had chugged them, but I had completely skipped over the phase where a warm and cozy feeling spreads through your veins.  My body was heading straight into numbness and slow wits.

"Alan Jackson - now
there's
your man.  Can't nobody tell me different.  He was crankin' out hits when you was still a gleam in your daddy's eye and he's still goin' strong," Dwight addressed the table in general, arguing his side of the country star debate. 

"What about you, Link?  You listen to country?" asked Jimmy, trying to
include me in the conversation.

Dwight exhaled through his teeth, creating
the
pfft
sound as he rolled his eyes.

"Yankees don't listen to country, right?"  Dwight asked, staring at me.  "I reckon Yanks from Connecticut spend their time
playin' tennis and steerin' y'all's sailboats."  He smiled, pleased with himself.

I stared at him, without answering.  His cocky, territorial scent settled over the table like a thick cloud.

"Don't pay him no mind," Jimmy directed at me.  "He was absent the day God handed out horse sense," he continued, rolling his eyes at Dwight.

I tipped my beer back and finished it off before lowering my glass and leveling my gaze at Dwight.

"These days, I find myself preoccupied with new hobbies," I spoke just loudly enough to be heard over the commotion of the bar.

Dwight arched a single eyebrow condescendingly in my direction. 
"Oh yeah?  Like what?"

I broke out in a slow smile.  "I'm glad you asked."