Elliot strolled into the local Blues bar and dropped a casual "Hey" to the greeter, then did a subtle 360 to find out who was in the house tonight. There was Mack. Elliot knew Mack back when Mack didn't know kind from cash. They were still pretty tight. But Mack was into the heavy stuff these days, and Elliot just didn't go for that shit anymore. Elliot would hate to be a woman in a room with Mack though, as Mack could be a real ass after two or three beers. Luckily, he wasn't (a woman, that is). Good guy, anyway. And there was Fred, of course, there was Fred. He was occupying his usual seat right at the edge of the bar. Fred, math geek extraordinaire. For him, high math was high art. After 4 or 5, Fred the meek would inevitably venture into territory where few math geniuses had gone before, expounding feverishly on the cosmic significance of various proofs. The inanity of the argument inevitably compounded exponentially as the proof of the alcohol did. Often by the end of the evening, Fred would become Psychic to the Bar, reading fortunes with the stack of pristine flash cards he kept in the right pocket of his corduroy blazer.
No sign of Sela, though. That was fine. He'd have time to grab a beer at the bar and say hey to Jack before she arrived. Then he'd suggest they get a booth, as he knew sitting at the bar made her uncomfortable. He and Sela had been co-workers, ok—truthfully, they'd been a bit
more
than co-workers for about a year now. Yeah, he loved her. And yeah, the fucking- well, it had been halfway great. But she and he, man, there was just something cosmically wrong. Hey, she was a nice girl and all…Well, frankly, that was it: she was just
too
fucking nice. Ultimately he needed someone who was willing to tell him when he was full of shit, kick his ass when he needed it. Someone he could get smashed with every couple of weeks.
And Sela? Well, Sela had never been smashed in her life. She was intensely spiritual, and he was, well, spiritually empty. And while he considered bar slumming to be integral to his social well-being; she thought it, at best, silly; at worst, an irresponsible waste of time.
In fact, to be honest, he was surprised she'd even suggested this scandalous place. She generally being a consumer of green, rather than Long Island, tea. Elliot headed for the bar, took an empty seat a few stools down from Mack, who was busy hitting on some new woman. Though her face was obscured by Mack's, and her ass by Mack's wandering hand, which had already made its way down to the padded bar stool, Elliot could tell she was another looker.
"Hey Mack!" Elliot called across the bar "How you doin', you scandalous mother?" Mack whipped around to greet Elliot with a cock's grin that would put Tom Cruise to shame.
What?
Elliot strained to get a better look at Mack's most recent prey.
God, did that look like Sela.
Yeah, the hair was different, and that definitely wasn't Sela's usual attire, but…could it be? Mack was motioning Elliot to share a round so he'd soon find out.
"Elliot! Have you met Lucy?"
"that's Lucie—"
