Page 56 of Petite Fleur

I also feel bitter that this is how my birthday is going.

Maybe if I speed walk home, I can eat a piece of cake before I get too tired?

Think positive!

I will have the energy for cake!

I'm reminding myself of the cake waiting for me as I walk out of the bathroom, actually smiling for the first time tonight.

"Hey!" The bartender yells at me.

Wow, I didn't know a good mood could be ruined so quickly.

Am I not allowed to use the bathroom if I'm not drinking?

Am I even allowed inside if I'm not spending money?

I guess I'm about to find out because he's waving a very black and blue finger at me to come talk to him. "I was just leaving, I'm sorry." I say as soon as I reach him.

This guy waves a hand dismissively at me and slams a very clean shot glass down on the table. He then reaches back and stands up on his toes to grab a bottle of something from the very top shelf and pours the clear liquor into the glass.

"Happy birthday, kid." He says flatly.

I want to cry.

He told me to leave, and I couldn't afford the bottom-shelf drink, yet he just gave me top-shelf tequila and was nice to me.

Did I step out into another dimension?

Does he think I'm someone else?

Or do I simply look so pathetic that he took mercy on me so I wouldn't bring down the atmosphere of the whole bar?

"Your tab is covered tonight. Every shot glass is disinfected twice, and everything is top shelf. Those are their rules." He tells me when I don't pick the shot glass up.

My eyes widen, staring over at this massive man in disbelief. "What?" I ask.

Nobody cares about me enough to cover my tab for anything.

Maybe this is Shelby's way of apologizing for being so crappy to me lately?

Either way, I can't really complain. “Who?” I ask curiously, but the bartender simply pours me another shot of tequila.

“I’m not allowed to say, but everything is covered, tip included. Go crazy, kid.” He tells me.

I want to press him, to beg him to tell me who paid for my drinks, but I doubt that he’d tell me anyway.

So, I take the shot in one go, surprising myself that it doesn't burn.

I've always heard liquor burns. "Top shelf doesn't burn your throat like that cheap shit. What else will you have?" The bartender asks me.

Maybe my birthday won't be so bad.

Chapter 20

Maeve Henderson

How many drinks have I had tonight?