Perfect Drug

“Justin, why haven’t you been writing?” I’m standing in Jenna and Aaron’s living room, and we’ve been talking about cocks for at least an hour. I get that way – the later at night, the more foul my language and thought. Not that it was ever particularly clean or wholesome. Anyway. I could give them no good reasons.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve just been busy with work and booze and girls.” I feel like an asshole for saying it, and I will feel like an asshole all over again for writing it. The visit wraps up shortly after that. I make things painfully awkward one more time and Nick drops me off at home.
Now, it’s story time. I’m picking a true story, because it’s one to which I already know the words.
I was recently promoted to a bar-backing position at work. The details of my new schedule were still in the process of being hammered out. I got a call from the bar manager; he wanted me to come in last Wednesday to work from open to close. Even if I had wanted to decline, I wouldn’t have. I felt that I should show that I appreciated my new position. So, Wednesday morning (that’s 1PM for me), I started getting ready for work. As I emerged from the shower, I saw that I had a text from my kindred spirit. “I’m going to be in Denver in a little over an hour.” Damn it. This girl and I share a love of violence and Rockstar and a few other things. She’s generally an awesome chick. The problem is that my car is a heap of shit and she lives 70 miles south of me. So when she comes to town, I try to be free. It wasn’t going to happen this time.
I sent her a message. “You should swing by the [bar]. I’m on in 10 minutes.” Yeah, I’m aware that you could probably figure out which bar I work at, but I’m going to make you do the work. I fought my way through the snarl of traffic, and ran straight to work. I didn’t have time to stop for my customary Rockstar, but I’d have to survive. The boss got me going working on the opening checklist and everything that wasn’t part of my job was forgotten. I filled wells with ice. I stocked coolers. I made a list of bottles for the shelves, and was on my knees in the liquor closet when she came around the corner. You know that moment when you see someone, but you aren’t looking at the mental image that you have created around them? It was one of those. I was just getting to my feet, looking into her brown eyes like I’d never seen her before. She smiled, and it hit me like a lightning bolt. I recognized her again. I like to think I didn’t stagger to my feet or do any of the other clumsy things I’m liable to do when put in such positions, but I couldn’t tell you for certain. The next thing I could clearly remember was hugging her tight, exchanging hellos and good-to-see-yous.
I confessed that I hadn’t picked up my supply of Rockstar for the day, and she promptly disappeared. She was back maybe ten minutes later with the soon-to-be-extinct green one. My favorite. Talk about knowing the way to my heart! She sat down at the bar and ordered food while I kept working on cleaning the cooler. The bar manager walked by, and I asked him to put her on my tab. “Yeah, I figured. I put her in as ‘Justin’s Girl.’” I had forgotten that he’d already met her before. I laughed, and told her what the boss had told me. She got a good laugh out of it too.
We got to talk despite my being occupied with work duties, but time flies when you’re having fun. She had to leave to meet her brother. We hugged our goodbyes. I don’t know what made that hug special, but it was. We held each other, close and tightly, for a sweet moment. Then she was gone and I was busy working again. Maybe an hour went by before I was stocking the coolers again, and I spotted the glimmering green of another dose of my perfect drug. She had bought two. Talk about warming my frozen little heart.

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