The guys reverted back to business and when a group of skimpily dressed girls walked by they became quiet and stared. I stared as well. There were four of them, and despite the wintry weather, each wore a short skirt that left little to the imagination. They were blonde-haired, tan, big-breasted, tight-bodied.

“Wow,” Frank said, and without another word, he stood from the booth and walked straight up to the prettiest in the group, a girl with bright blue eyes who didn’t look a day over twenty-one and, who, in the breathless way she held herself, still radiated the vibrant sheen of youth that rarely sticks with one past their twenties. She smiled at Frank and it was obvious she reciprocated his interest, and was maybe even impressed he had the nerve to approach. I would have given anything to hear what he was saying; he talked and laughed with her as though there were nothing to it, and while I watched I burned with agonizing jealousy at his effortless self-confidence, the exhibited aplomb that I had spent a lifetime trying to learn. I had to look away, and in direct retaliation I freely ogled the rest of the girls in the bar, staring at their crotches without caring that the evidence of my eyes revealed everything one needed to know about the thoughts in my mind.

I became antsy after ten minutes. I couldn’t take sitting there any longer and excused myself from the table. I took my drink with me. The bar was stuffy, hot, loud. We’d been there an hour. The crowd had doubled. I weaved through it to the bathroom at the rear and slammed my drink while I urinated. I walked to the bar and bought a beer, spending what little money I had for the simple fact that I couldn’t stand one more sip of Scotch. Not once did any of them ask if I preferred to drink something else. The bartender dropped off my change and I ordered a shot of Jameson. I paid again, took the shot, drank half of the beer in three large gulps. I figured there were three or four drinks in my gut that had yet to hit me. It didn’t bode well that I was already dizzy.

Everyone talking, flirting, laughing around me. I leaned against the bar and watched the world move at its own pace. My first night, spent at the bar, the very place I promised I’d stop going, the place I’d stay away from to get my life back on track. And I had just blown fifteen dollars on a shot and a beer. It wasn’t the start I had hoped for.