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The Guilty - Jason Pinter [88]

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to gain a modicum of relief from the anguish inside her.

Mya took a small sip and saw Gregory watching her from

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the other end of the bar. As soon as he noticed her looking,

he turned away, hiding a look of embarrassment, and pretended to clean a glass. She wondered what time he got off.

If he had an apartment nearby.

Mya felt her cell phone vibrate through her purse. She took

it out, saw it was her mother, and pressed Ignore. Mya had

only spoken to her mother once since her father's murder. She

made no effort to hide the fact that she believed her mother's

ignorance led to his death. That if her mother wasn't such a

goddamn passive bitch, wasn't such a pushover, had every

now and then stood up for herself, her father would still be

alive and not in a pine box in some cemetery surrounded by

dimming memories of loved ones.

Mya could feel her blood warming as the alcohol swam

through her veins. The door opened, and she felt a gust of cool

air. Mya closed her eyes, knocked back the rest of the drink.

Then she heard a creaking sound, opened her eyes and saw

a man pull out the stool next to her and sit down. He was

young, early twenties, very tan with sandy blond hair and a

sweet smile. His eyes flashed a striking blue, and Mya felt

her cheeks grow warm. The guy raised his hand to order a

drink. Mya noticed how cracked and calloused his palms

were. He took off his coat, was wearing a blue T-shirt underneath. His forearms were tanned and toned. He looked like

no other guy she'd seen at this bar. He was naturally lean, not

possessing the kind of strength born in a gym, but born out

of honest blue-collar work.

Gregory acknowledged him and came over. He placed a

coaster in front of the stranger and said, "What'll it be?"

"Gin and tonic," the guy said. His voice sounded slightly

older than Mya would have expected. "Light on the tonic."

Gregory held out his hand, palm up. "Lemme see some ID."

The Guilty

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He looked moderately embarrassed, and offered Mya a

sheepish smile before opening his wallet and handing the

plastic over. Gregory looked the man over, looked at the

picture, made sure the faces matched.

"William...Roberts?" Gregory said.

"That'd be me." Gregory, seemingly satisfied, handed the

card back and poured the drink. He went heavy on the gin,

surely in apology for the embarrassing age verification.

When Gregory left, the boy took a sip of his drink and said,

"You think that'd never get old, but sometimes all you want

is a drink." He said it softly without turning his head.

"I know what you mean. I still get carded half the places

I go to."

The boy swiveled his stool toward her. He had a nice smile,

dimples. "You're what, twenty-two, twenty-three?"

"Twenty-six," Mya said, failing to hide her pleasure in his

guess.

"BS."

"You're right, I lie to pretend I'm older. "

They shared a laugh. Mya took another sip of her drink,

found she was sucking on ice. Her body felt warm. She was

unsure if it was the alcohol or this stranger. Either way, she

didn't want it to stop. "So let me guess. You walk into bars

and try to flatter all the girls." Immediately she regretted

uttering such a line, but what was the worst that could

happen?

The boy laughed. "You're right," he said, a hint of

sarcasm in his voice. "I have nothing better to do than

wander around until I finally meet someone who needs

flattery. Please. I talk to who I want, when I want. And right

now I want to talk to you."

"I bet you say that to all the girls, too," Mya said.

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"Actually, I do. You got me there."

"So here you are. I guess I should be flattered you're

talking to me."

"Actually, I'm the one who should be flattered."

The boy smiled, his face a strange but alluring combination of youthfulness and maturity, like he'd seen more and

done more than anyone his age had experienced. He wasn't

in a hurry like most guys she met, hadn't overplayed his hand

within the first ten seconds of their meeting. He looked confident enough that if she rebuffed any possible advances,

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