Bars 3.2

     I stomped up the stairs. The bar had been crowded and lively and dark. It was in the basement I think and I was leaving. As I reached the streets the two bouncers nodded at me as the third checked IDs. I’m not sure how I missed the machine that was scanning and projecting people’s faces on tv screens.

     Well fuck, there were at least three cop cars. Four, four cop cars. The street was full of people.

     “I think she went to the City Tavern,” I said. I pointed across the street to what seemed to be another bar. There was a porch and a line of people. I stepped into the street.

     “We need to find Aidan,” my friend said. She was a girl and a friend from high school. Earlier, I saw my fourth grade teacher in line and gave her a hug. She smiled at me and introduced me to her boyfriend. He was very large man.

     Earlier that night I had a few beers and Erica picked me up. We stopped at a liquor store and then we stopped at the convenience store that Aidan was managing. Aidan had dropped out of college our freshman year. His convenience store basebal cap covered his pale brown coif, which significantly altered his appearance. He looked like anyone now. He was very pale and the fluorescents lights made him an almost sickly green. He shifted about the multicolor racks and his eyes darted about quickly. I thought he had been mad at me since I skipped out on tennis with him. I didn’t think we’d get very far asking him for a ride.

     “My phone’s broken. What’s up?” He said as he rang up a woman’s Coke and gum. She had a tattoo on the back of her shoulder of birds flying away. We asked him if he’d pick us up from the bars after work.

      “Sure but my phone’s broken. I can’t reach you.”

      “Well how about we meet you at the bookstore at 1 am.” There was only one bookstore in this fucking town.

     “The bookstore is a bad spot. I’ll find you.” Then he went back to stock the milk gallons in the tall glass coolers.

      I had given up on the girl. She had left with her friends, a shimmer of dresses running up the stairs. 1:32 am. People I had known in a past life, one of Friday night football games and bonfires, gathered about. My brown desert boots were a bit too big for my feet, the extra length to my toes caused my to stumble a bit on the sidewalk.

     I circled the street. The night was closing. The bartenders leaned on the counters and some counted singles. The men leaned their ears down to the dresses they were talking to. I walked back out onto the street, away from the police and the throng of post grads and grads and working people. I checked my phone out of habit. The air was warm and the skin outside my t shirt hummed. My underwear had ridden up throughout the night. I tugged at the back of my jeans and stuck my phone in my pocket. I looked up. On the street corner was Aidan. In a Detroit Tigers baseball cap. He was scanning the line for the tavern. The orange street lights warmed him his skin and the neon sign from the bar glowed green across his white t shirt. It was a pretty visible location he had chosen, there weren’t many people on that end of the street. He was comfortable alone. He stood straight almost leaning back on the heels of his boots. His shoulders were not rounded like mine.

     I punched him on the arm and we walked past the bright headlights of the cop cars to find our friends.