Today was easily the worst day of my relatively young life. I know people say that, but in my case, it was definitely true. Everything that could possibly go wrong today, HAD gone wrong. My dog had died early in the morning. I'd gotten into an accident and totaled my car on the way to work. And, to add insult to injury, now, just after 5 p.m. on Friday, I'd just been told I was fired. What else could possibly go wrong? Seriously...it couldn't get any worse, could it? I had no choice at this point but to commit suicide or drink myself into oblivion. Since a martini sounded delicious and suicide just seemed like yet another hassle to me at the moment, I decided to take a taxi straight to the bar after cleaning out my desk.
I got out of the taxi, tipping the driver a whole dollar (hey, gimme a break, after all, I AM unemployed now), then made my way into the bar just around the corner from my apartment. I'd stopped in a few times before, but I wasn't exactly a regular. Nonetheless, I made my way over to the bar, set my small box of personal items on it, and sat down on one of the stools. A gruff looking older man, the bartender, walked over to me and placed a napkin on the bar in front of me. "Got fired, eh?"
I stared at him blankly. "Yeah, how'd ya know?"
"Well, it's almost 5:30p.m. on a Friday and you're carrying a box of what appears to be personal belongings off a work desk. Happens alla time, kid."
"Oh," I said, feeling foolish.
"Tell ya what. I'll put that box back here behind the bar to get it outta your way," he said, taking the box and sticking it under the bar. Standing back up, he continued, "And, your first drink is on the house."
"Wow, thanks."
"Sure, darlin'. Consider it an I-Just-Got-Fired Special."
"Do you have an I-Just-Got-Fired, I-Totaled-My-Car, and My-Dog-Died Special?" I asked with a laugh, suddenly realizing how pathetic I sounded.
"We sure do...first THREE drinks on the house, in that case."
"Thanks," I said. I wanted my first free drink and I wanted it fast. If I took time to think about my situation, I'd burst into tears.
"So, what'll it be?"
"Cosmopolitan please."
"Easy enough," he said, reaching for a martini glass. Seconds later, he slipped the red liquid in front of me and said, "Don't get too drunk, though, kid. I'm sure everything will look brighter in the morning." I just nodded and downed the entire drink. He laughed. "I'm Jerry, by the way."
"Thanks Jerry...I'm LoreLai," I said, pushing the empty glass in his direction.
"Well, pretty lady...another Cosmo?"
"Sure, why not?" I agreed. Jerry chuckled all the way down to his rounded belly and began pouring cranberry juice into the martini shaker again. I began pondering the fact that he called me "pretty lady." Not that I considered myself ugly, mind you. I'm a tall girl, about 5'10...not thin and not fat, just rather curvy. My long auburn curls were usually in a heap surrounding my face. I have big brown eyes and the type of skin that always tanned, never burned. And admittedly, I almost always showed cleavage...I had a great natural set of tits and didn't see a problem with showing them off. I guess that I've just never considered myself all that, so I'm always taken aback when anyone calls me "pretty".
My three free drinks went down rather quickly...within the first 10 minutes, actually, but then I began to restrain myself a bit...my wallet appreciated it. However, four hours and 8 martinis later, I was approaching drunk. I was feeling kinda sleepy, actually. I considered laying my head down on the bar, just for a minute, when Jerry said, "Hey kid, want me to call you a cab?"
I jerked my head upright. "Huh? Oh, uh, nah, I wive whight 'round da corna." I heard my own voice and realized how very drunk I sounded. I laughed to myself. Jerry just shook his head.
"Well, maybe you should think about heading home and--" Jerry's sentence was cut short as a group of young guys, probably 5 or 6, came into the bar and one of them screamed his name.
"Jerryyyyyyyy!" one guy yelled, making his way over to the edge of the bar.
Jerry and I both turned to watch him. He was a young, good-looking man probably in his mid to late 20's. His black hair and blue eyes were very striking...not to mention his winning smile. Jerry leans forward and whispers to me, "Bar owner's son...total prick." I stifled a laugh.
When the "prick" arrived, though, Jerry extended his hand to him and was more than polite. "Hey Derek, long time no see. How's things?"
Derek shook his hand as he looked to his right and noticed me staring at him. I quickly looked away and took a sip of my Cosmo. "Couldn't be better," he said, finally answering the bartender.
"Good, good, glad to hear it."
Another round of "Hey Jerry's" came from behind the young kid...Derek I think was his name. They'd walked in with him, so I assumed they were his entourage.
"Hi Aaron! And Steve! Brent! Hey Justin! How's it hangin', Ryan?" Jerry replied to each one of them individually as he gave them each a quick wave. He obviously knew them all pretty well.
"We just stopped in to play a couple games of pool and have a few beers. I wasn't sure if you still worked here or not."
"Oh yeah, man, I'll be here serving drinks until the day I die," Jerry said, chuckling again.
Derek looked over at me again. "Friend of yours?" he asked the bartender.
"Ms. LoreLai here had a rough day. She just needed some free booze and an ear, I think."
I blushed.
"LoreLai...nice to meet you. I'm Derek, Derek Millstone," he said, extending his hand in my direction.
I shook his hand and said, in a bit of a slurred manner, "Nifce to meet too."
"Wanna play some pool in the back room with us?"
"Umm, Derek, no, I think she's too drunk to--"
This time I cut Jerry off. "Sure!" I said, bouncing up off my stool. I lost my balance immediately (I did still have legs, didn't I? Just wondered to myself because I sure couldn't feel them), but Derek quickly caught my arm. Ok, maybe I was slightly drunk.
"Jerry, do me a favor. Send 6 beers and one of whatever LoreLai is drinking into the pool room, would ya?"