Week nights are usually opportune nights to close early. Shelbyville as a whole just didn't seem to drink much on weeknights. Most of the people here were hard workers out in some sort of field, or some sort of garage, or somewhere or in some sort of respectable nine to five thing. Technically, bars stay open until two am in Memphis, but I had been in the bar industry for three years and I can only recall a handful of times when we were open past midnight. Weekends we were literally kicking people out, but other nights most people just left peacefully on their own.

The girl at the end of the bar, however, did not seem to be aware of this. It was 11:30 at night and she had just ordered another vodka tonic.  Aside from her outfit and the fact that I knew mostly everyone in this town, her drink preference was a key point in figuring out she wasn't from around here. Most patrons here were beer drinkers. A vodka tonic would be too fancy and laughed at.  Sometimes college kids drive here from the city when they needed a break from Memphis proper, but she didn't seem like a college student either.  Her outfit was too black and trendy, her face was adorned with too much expertly applied make up, her hair was too 'done', and she was too put together in a purposefully reckless sort of way.  She was also drinking alone. College kids usually travel in packs. 

"Alright, Justin, I'm out of here. You gonna be alright on your own?" Jessie, the other bartender at Wade's asked. There were only two bartenders here at Wade's. Jessie had the early afternoon shifts and I took the nights. It had been this way for years and she always asked the same question before she left. I assured here that I was, in fact, going to be fine. Besides the fact that it was the truth, had I answered any other way, she still would have left at her scheduled time anyway. I don't resent her for this. It's just a fact.

"Okay. Well, I let Ms. Thang over there know I was leaving. I was hinting at her doing the same, but she didn't bite. You might be here all night with that one." Jessie threw an accusatory thumb in 'Ms. Thang's' direction and offered me a sympathetic smile. 

As I heard the door shut behind her signaling Jessie's exit, I sighed inwardly. It wasn't imperative that I leave early, and I certainly couldn't kick the girl out because our hours were clearly posted, but I was looking forward to catching some of the poker game going on at Trace and I's apartment right now. Together, Trace and I were golden when it came to poker. It was like we could read each other's minds or something. Alone, however, was a different story. If I got home too much later, I was afraid he would gamble our X-Box away. He always thought he was better than he actually was. It was only usually a problem for him and potentially our belongs, but that was problem enough. 

I poured a shot of Jameson into a shot glass and slung it to the back of my throat. Sure, it was irresponsible, but the stranger and I were the only ones left in the bar and I was afraid I was going to get bored. She wasn't the fastest vodka drinker I had ever met, after all. 

"Can I have a shot of that, too?"  So, Ms. Thang speaks. I must've been so surprised that I forgot to answer her or fulfill her request because the next thing I hear is, "What? Bossy tell you to cut me off?" Her brunette head was pointed in the direction of the door Jessie went out of. I wanted to laugh at her ballsy attitude, but it was most likely the alcohol speaking. 

"Nah. She told me to let you go until you puke." I poured her a shot and walked it over to her.

"Then by all means. . " She took the shot in the same fashion that I had only moments earlier. Afterwards, she licked the whiskey residue off her lips and leaned forward. "She didn't really say that, did she?" She narrowed her eyes and spoke low as if we were telling secrets.

Even though we were the only ones in the building, I looked around suspiciously to continue with the flow of the conversation and leaned into her. "No, I made that up."

"Oh, you're good."

I poured us each another shot and winked at her. 

"What are we drinking to?" She asked raising the glass.

"To you not being from around here." We clinked the glasses together and slammed them on the bar at the same time after we finished.

"What makes you think I'm not from here?"

"Well, for starters, your boots." I poured two more shots.

"What!" She laughed. "What about my boots?" We slammed the shots back down as if we were in a competition.

"People only wear boots around here if they're going to work." Pour.

"I could work in these boots!" She said mock-defensively. Clink.

"You could work a street corner in those boots." Slam.

This time she took the now half empty bottle of Jameson and poured the shots herself. It was hard to tell if it was purposeful or inexperience, but she filled the glasses up to the rim. When she picked hers up, liquor sloshed over the side and spilled onto the counter, "To out drinking the bartender." She grinned lazily. 

My shot did the same as hers as I lifted it, "To making false statements." She didn't bother cheers-ing me this time, but her eyes never left mine as she swallowed the shot. When she slammed her glass  back down, the look in her eyes told me she took the action as a victory in our made up competition. She plucked the full shot glass from my fingers and, after slamming it to the back of her throat, slammed it on the counter as well. She licked her lips just like she had after the first shot and I wondered what else she could slam to the back of her throat. It was a dirty, filthy thought, but she was looking at me in dirty, filthy ways. 

She poured another shot and scooted it towards me. I mimicked her and took it without breaking our apparent staring competition. I figured since she won the last competition we were involved in, I could't let her have this one too. 

I could tell you that I don't know how it happened, and I would only be half-lying, but we were back at my place now. Her small fingers laced in mine, I noisily opened the door to the house my roomate and I shared. It was extremely difficult to be quiet while intoxicated. She laughed and I put my fingers to her lips. She started moving her tongue slowly around my pointer finger before taking the entire thing in her mouth. I sighed roughly as I grabbed her thighs and wrapped them around my waist. We weren't even though the door way yet and I already had her pressed against a wall. This was a very promising sign. Some sort of logic took hold and I scanned the living room for witnesses only to find remnants of the poker game from earlier tonight. I also spotted the X-Box and sighed a sigh of relief. This meant I wouldn't have to yell at Trace in the morning. This was fantastic information. I assume it would be difficult to yell at someone who just found out their dad's been lying to them their entire life.