Emery walked the few blocks to Mansion. When she walked in the restaurant, it was full and the bar area was packed as well, but she sidled up to the bar and ordered a vodka tonic. Then she leaned in so the bartender could hear her. “Can I eat at the bar?”
“Sure, honey,” the bartender said with a pronounced drawl that she thought must be for the tourists.
She smiled as he placed her glass, silverware, and a menu over a white cloth napkin at the end of the bar. Carefully, she managed to maneuver around all the bodies that blocked her way and perched on the edge of the high chair. She was in awe as she took in her surroundings. It was a beautiful historic brick building built in the 1800s. It sat overlooking Forsyth Park and made her wonder if the building had been someone’s home prior to becoming a hotel.
“You meeting someone here, chickadee?” The bartender had made his way back over to where she sipped her drink. He had coiffed blond hair, like from the fifties, and turquoise glasses.
“Nope, just wanted a nice meal and was tired of being home,” she answered honestly.
“You sure you ain’t meeting a man? You’re quite attractive.” He pronounced it with the emphasis on the last syllable, holding it for three beats.
She grinned. “You are too.”
“Where you from, my chickadee?”
“Atlanta,” she answered. What was with her and honesty all of a sudden? She guessed that she felt safe, being anonymous, the bartender not knowing her. She’d probably never come in here again.
“Me too,” the bartender said, his face filling with joy. “What part?”
“Dunwoody, you?”
“Grant Park,” he answered and put his forearms on the bar facing her. “What can I get for you?”
“I think I want the blue cheese filet. Medium, please.”
“Anything else?” He eyed her curiously. “The onion rings are to die for.”
“Okay, I’ll have those.” She closed the menu and reached across the bar, handing it to him. “Oh, and A Long Goodnight, please.”
“Ooooooo, honey, that’s my favorite drink. I had to talk the manager into putting it on the menu.” He sashayed a bit as he walked to the computer and looked back at her. “I’m Daphne, by the way.”
“Emma,” she replied and sipped the remainder of her drink.
A few minutes later Daphne brought over her drink. “I wish you a long goodnight, girl.” He nodded toward the drink as he set it front of her.
“Oh, that’s not happening,” she muttered.
“And why not? A fine young thing like yourself…”
Silence.
“Well, don’t you worry, sugar, you’ll find the right man. You’re as cute as a button.”
Daphne walked back down the bar toward some other customers and Emery sipped her new drink. It was amazing. The combination of strawberry liquor, rum, and lemon soda made it refreshing and not overbearing. She could totally get drunk off these. That’s what she planned on doing, so she signaled to Daphne for another.
An older man sat down next to her and nodded to Daphne. After he ordered, he smiled at Emery. Her insides incinerated in fear.
“How are you?” he asked, and began making small talk. He was being polite, but all she saw was Phil.
Emery blinked at him, turning to focus on Daphne coming back with her third drink in less than thirty minutes.
“Here you go, miss. Sir.” Daphne winked at Emery and then returned to making drinks.
“I’m here on business, you?” the man asked her.
Chills ran down her spine and she gulped her drink, threw sixty dollars on the bar, and ran out. She was making her way down the steps when Daphne called out “Emma!” with the emphasis on the last syllable.
Emery turned around, watching as he rushed down the stairs and handed her a carryout bag.
“I know you didn’t forget your food, chickadee,” he said, his eyes full of concern.
“Thanks,” she muttered. “Did I leave you enough?”
“You did, with a nice tip.”
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, little one, I saw how he looked at you. That’s nasty.” Daphne bent his frame to where he was eye to eye with Emery. “Sometimes you just have to leave.”
Didn’t she know that… She gave him a weak smile and a wave and walked the four blocks back to her place. That’d been a fucking disaster, but at least she’d had drinks with other people in the room. She was starting to feel like an alcoholic, with all the solitary drinking. The smell from the steak and onion rings made her mouth water. Emery sighed in resignation as she picked up her step to go home and eat alone again. Always alone.