Disclaimer: This story contains strong language that could be offensive. As always, if it isnt for you, theres plenty of other stories to read.
The silence filled the house, a sense of anticipation washed over Grant, despite his indecision of how to busy himself for the evening. The desire to do something wasn't matched with the overflow of ideas, and the ideas that came to mind weren't convincing him to take action on them. He'd sit for a few minutes, then pace, going room to room looking for some activity that would call him into action. Still, his creativity didn't match his anxious nature at the moment. Each pace around the house would be filled with several gulps of a strong beer, before the can emptied and then replaced with another.
A light buzz came over him. The kind of magical spot that quelled the restless beast, slowed him down just enough to not constantly retrace his same steps, and instead accept his fate: that whatever pleasure he may find this evening, it wasn't going to come from any of the activities he had already considered and rejected. It was the type of buzz that gave a steady calm, but not cooked by any means.
With a spark of decisive thought, Grant threw on his jacket, grabbed his keys, and hopped in his car to grab a drink at the pub just down the street.
Grant typically wasn't the bar type, or at least not anymore. In his youth, he had spent way too much time and money at such places, but these days preferred too pay less for the same beer, and enjoy the comfort of his own space. In contrast, his space, this evening, hadn't offered much for his current state of mind, so he had decided grabbing one or two and people watching, or at least having small talk with the bartender would give a little break in the monotony of his last few hours.
The Soggy Raccoon wasn't a particular special pub by any means, and wasn't a local hotspot by any means, but a comfortable, down to earth place with a good tap list. Stepping through the door, Grant's eyes sifted across the scene before him. It wasn't crowded, but apparently he wasn't the only one struggling to find something better to do. Scanning for a place to insert himself, his eyes rested on five open seats at the far side of the "U" shaped bar.
As he waited for the bartender, a middle aged woman, standing around 5'5", blonde hair, bluish-grey eyes, a fit but slightly curvy body and solid thighs, he glanced around at the demographic. A few women roughly in their forties joked and laughed loudly on the far side, having a girl's night, probably offloading their vents from this week's work, the stresses of getting "young billy" to his soccer game while juggling "Sally's" dance schedule and planning meals as if they were some schedule juggling protagonists in their own stories. A few seats from them two jocks, gorged themselves of some cheese filled fried food, drinking cheap beer, indiscernible from watery piss and hooting at the game on the screens along the top banister of the bar (not something Grant ever found interesting.) Add a random touch of lonely old guy, a few quiet conversations between two friends, a few couples, a few young men and women probably taking a break from studies over a few... Nothing exciting, but being out of the house and taking down a beer was a nice change.
"Can I get you a drink to start?" The bartender asked.
"Yeah, I'll have the Two-hearted."
"Ordering food, or just drinks?" She asked fingering the menu below the ledge of the bar.
"Just drinks."
A minute later he was sipping at his beverage, a slight bitter bite to it, and a smooth finish.
It's amazing how small you can feel in the world, as it buzzes by you. A glance there, a shift, an aversion...
And another round....
The second beer always tastes better. Two beers in and the scene is losing it's appeal. Perhaps he just needed a smoke. He didn't particularly feel like returning home yet.
Taking his beer to the patio, he fidgeted with his other hand in his pocket, feeling for his lighter and smokes. He found his smokes. Pulling one and putting it between his lips, he continued now with both hands searching his pockets... and ***flick**** a bright flame in front of him...
"You look like you could use one of these," he said, whoever he was. Grants eyes were still adjusting to the light behind to whomever he spoke.
"Oh, yeah...thanks...much appreciated..." Grant felt caught off guard. The man, probably a few inches over 6ft.
"No problem. Wild night, huh?" He jested...
"Oh yeah," Grant chuckled, "super."
"Eh, it's early, it could get better."
"Hopefully."
The man sipped at his glass, which looked like it had bourbon in it. " The name's Alex, yours?" He said as he extended his hand toward grant. It practically ate up his much smaller hand completely, with a much firmer grip.
"Grant."
"Nice to meet you, Grant. "
"You as well."
The air was warm and the patio a cozy sort of scene, empty aside from the two bodies sucking down their death sticks.
"This drink is just about finished, and looks like you're in need too... Care to grab another with me, my treat?"
Given Grant's night had been this boring, and wouldn't get any more exciting at home, given his girlfriend was out of town, "yeah, sure, sounds good."
"After you," Alex extended his arm towards the door opening it for his new found conversationalist. Grant passed the large, in shape man, feeling kind of silly as they were an odd pair. Alex, taller, broader, looking like he could squeeze the liquid out of a rock, with his smaller friend. Grant was about 5'7, thin, much more dainty, lacking muscles and weighing in at about 140 with dark hair and eyes, while Alex had blue eyes and sandy brown hair. Grant kept a beard on his face, but this man kept a clean shaven face.
They strode to the bar again, as Alex waved down the bartender. "I'd love two shots of tequila, and get this boy two as well," he spoke as he slapped Grant on the back. It seemed strange to be called boy, but, he didn't take offense given the tone and the generosity.
"That'll make this night better," he laughed as the 4 shot glasses hit the counter. "You should probably bring him training wheels, just in case," he said pointing to his smaller friend. The limes were delivered on a napkin with a shaker of course salt. "Perfect, thank you doll," he chuckled sliding them towards Grant.
Alex then smiled towards him and nodded his head as he picked up the first shot glass. Grant appreciated the thoughtfulness of his friend as he poured salt on the meat of his thumb, grabbed the limb and the shot in his other hand. Lick...down the trap, and bite...the limb filled his mouth with a much needed flavor.
With his baritone voice, Alex said, "So tell me about yourself, Grant... what brings you out to drink by yourself? Bad night? Breakup? New job, and celebratory drink?"
"Honestly, my girlfriend is out of town, and the house was just to boring and quiet. Plus, been a long time since I've grabbed a drink at a bar. Sounded like a nice change of routine."
"Ha, you dog...out of town huh? Decided you'd come in hope of finding some nice piece of side chick?"
"It wasn't really my plan. Just needed the scenery to change for the night."
"Ah. Yeah, can't say the pickings are to great here right now anyways."
"No...not really."
"Good thing you found company. Some of these asses here probably are sneaking glances at ya, with thoughts of their own, not realizing your the girlfriend type."
Grant was taken back by his new friend's comment, but let it be. "Yeah, it makes the night more interesting I suppose," he said with a chuckle.
Alex picked up his second shot glass, and raised it, "To making new friends,"
A salting, a clank of the glasses, "To new friends," and down the hatch.
"So what about you, what brings you here to drink alone?"
