Story #1: That Fateful Night
"Hey, can I get a whiskey?" York asked, trying to get the bartender's attention, a tall, burly man who was focused solely on the gaggle of young women at the other end of the bar, obviously in the middle of a bachelorette party, judging by the tiara on the brunette in the miniskirt. He'd been trying for at least three minutes with no success, even after he'd unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt in an attempt to woo the female bartender cleaning glasses at the other end. "Oh, come on," he nearly shouted as he watched the man started pouring drinks for another girl right next to him, ignoring him completely. "I just want a goddamn drink; it's not that much to ask."
"Here, have mine," a man to his left said, sliding him a glass. He looked from it to him and back to the drink again, seriously debating just taking it.
"Nah, I'll fucking wait, I've waited long enough, another five minutes won't kill me," he grumbled.
"Sounds like you've waited long enough," the man said, gesturing to the drink. "Don't worry; it's not poisoned or anything."
"Isn't that what you would say if it was poisoned?" York said with a laugh.
"No, really, my girlfriend got it for me just now. She's the only reason I can ever get a drink in this place," he replied, smiling. "I'll just have her get me another one when she gets back from the bathroom."
"Well, if you're sure. Here." York pulled a five dollar bill out of his pocket and set it on the counter, picking up the glass. Tipping it back, he soon figured out it was scotch, not whiskey, but anything was good at that moment. Setting the glass back down, he licked his lips and nodded approvingly. It was definitely better than the two beers he'd had at the last bar.
"Good shit, huh?"
"Yeah, actually. Not normally a scotch guy, whiskey's more my style, but it's good."
"Top shelf, man. Only reason to even drink scotch."
"Oh, shit, I should give you more than five bucks then." York started digging in his pockets for more cash, but the man reached out, shaking his head.
"Don't worry about it. Just got out?" he asked, pointing to his own eye. York nodded, used to people asking questions about the large scar that covered his left eye.
"Yeah, just blowing off some steam."
"Awesome! Hey, are those your friends?" He pointed to North and Wash, who were waving from the base of the stairs leading up to the dance floor where most of the girls were at that point in the night.
"Oh, yeah. They're probably wondering where I've been. Hey, have a good night, and thanks again." York shook hands with the man and grabbed the drink, walking over to them. He stumbled slightly, righting himself as he reached his friends.
"God, finally, where did you go?" North complained. "You left me up there with Wash, who can't dance to save his life. It's worse than at the last place."
"Fuck you!" Wash hollered above the music, shaking his head as he walked back upstairs. York grinned and took another sip of the scotch, following North upstairs to find Wash.
He'd just gotten out of the Army and still had his bags in the trunk of North's car. The three of them had met up at the bar as soon as North picked him up from the airport and called Wash. He still didn't really know the guy all that well; North and Wash had been childhood buddies and he'd only met him over winter break during sophomore year of college. He seemed pretty cool, but York still had to get to know him outside of a few visits during their college years.
He spotted Wash dancing in the corner with a tall brunette girl and smiled, biting his cheek to avoid making fun of the guy's dancing skills, or lack thereof. North was grabbing his hand a second later, pulling him towards the side to inspect the crowd.
"See anyone?" he yelled over the music, which seemed to be getting louder as they stood there. York shook his head, sighing.
"I just flew like ten hours straight, I'm not really in the mood to pick up girls," he yelled back. North scrunched up his face and kept looking.
"Guys, then?"
"Dude."
North held up his hands in defeat as he grinned. York rolled his eyes and headed for the stairs, catching a glimpse of someone rushing upwards towards him, a shock of red hair burning itself into his retinas underneath the fluorescent lights overhead. He instinctively opened his mouth to say a pick-up line but no words came out of his mouth as she brushed past him with a faint 'sorry,' not even making eye contact. She wove her way through the crowd, obviously scanning for someone she knew, and stopped at the other stairway leading back downstairs. Glancing around once more, she headed downstairs and he pushed his way to the glass wall overlooking the downstairs seating area, searching for the girl. He finally spotted her sitting at a table with a girl with brunette hair and another girl with short, jagged blonde hair, reaching out to grab a shot sitting in the middle of the table.
"Hey!" A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped, turning to see Wash standing next to him, looking exhausted.
"Where's your date?"
"Ditched me," he shouted over the music. "What's up?"
"Her," York replied, pointing downstairs at the redhead. Wash followed his line of sight and nodded approvingly.
"Go talk to her!"
"I…" York shook his head. "It's been too long," he shouted. "Can't."
"Bullshit!" Wash grabbed his elbow and steered him towards the front stairway, pushing him down the stairs. York nearly tripped on a middle step and caught himself on the railing, glaring behind him at Wash, who just shrugged. Finally they made it downstairs and almost to the table where the three girls were sitting, but at the last second York veered away and ducked down into the sunken bar area.
"Go away!" he told Wash, frowning. "I can do this on my own." He finished his scotch and set the glass on a nearby empty counter.
"You're not drunk enough," Wash replied, laughing. "Gotta get your spirits up, in more ways than one." He ran over to the bar and somehow managed to score three beers, carrying them back over a few minutes later. York was still keeping an eye on the girl, watching her take more shots with her friends, yelling about it being her birthday. The brunette got up and walked away, coming down to the bar, leaning over the railing to get the bartender's attention with her low-cut dress. York grabbed one of the beers from Wash and downed it quickly, feeling the alcohol from the previous bar clouding his head.
"Slow down," he heard North saying from behind him as he grabbed a second beer from the table, chugging half of it.
"He found a girl he wants to talk to," Wash explained, gesturing up to the redhead. York kicked him underneath the table and he winced.
"Well, it's not going to be attractive to be super drunk in front of her," North scolded, grabbing the beer away from him. "Wash, why don't you help him out?"
"I'll be your wingman!" Wash shouted, slapping York on the back. The three of them looked up towards the girls and saw that they were gone. York's eyes widened and he jumped up from the stool he'd been sitting on, looking around.
"Where did she go?" he yelled over the music, frowning.
"Maybe they left, I'll go check," Wash hollered, pushing his way towards the entrance of the club. North grabbed York by the shoulder and they followed, trying to fight the flow of the crowd making its way towards the bar.
As they neared the door York doubled over, a sudden queasy feeling filling his head and stomach both at the same time. He felt North's hands on his back, trying to get him out of the line of foot traffic, and a moment later he was leaning against a wall, trying to catch his breath.
"Told you to slow down," he heard North lecturing. He scowled and stood up, blinking a few times to clear the haze in his vision.
"I'm good," he said, shaking his head. North's arm was around him seconds later and he leaned into him, grateful for the support. Finally they made it outside and he fought back the urge to throw up as fresh air hit his lungs.
"God dammit, Wash, we leave you alone for five minutes and you're already hitting on strangers?" he heard North say as he staggered away and found a lamppost to lean against. He caught a glimpse of the redhead standing near Wash as North walked over to them.
"You're incorrigible," York slurred, shaking his head. The feeling was building in his stomach as he focused on a strange stain on the cement.
"Whoa, who's been teaching you the big words?" Wash teased from nearby.
"Shut the fuck up, I know words too," he muttered.
"Hey now, come on. We're celebrating your release from that hellhole known as the Army, so be nice to us or we won't buy you any more drinks."
The mention of drinks made York's stomach churn suddenly. "I think I'm good."
"Is he going to be okay?" the girl asked, stepping forward. He kept his face turned away, trying to hide the scar. Fucking Army training gone wrong; not bad enough for a discharge, just enough to keep him in the hospital for a month.
"This asshole? He's gonna be just fine," North replied, roughly slapping him on the back. York groaned but North ignored him. "Hey, nice to meet you by the way."
"Oh, sorry! This is…Lina," he heard Wash say. "Lina, this is North." York rolled his eyes, annoyed that he'd introduced North before him. Wasn't Wash supposed to be his wingman, not North's?
"North?"
Her voice was beautiful. York wanted to say something but couldn't think straight, just wanted her to keep talking. And she was so pretty, reaching up to brush her crimson hair away from her cheek… He took a chance to look at her and saw that her eyes were green, sparkling underneath the lamppost's light, before he turned away again to hide his face.
"Yeah, my parents were from Canada, so people thought it was funny to call me North because of the Great North. Just…whatever, it stuck." Ugh, North had a few stories for the origin of his nickname and York still didn't know which one was true. It was one truth that never came out during their drinking games in college.
"Aw, that's cute!"
York resisted the urge to make a snarky comment, feeling his stomach begin to do its telltale rolling that signaled he was probably going to be sick.
"Cute nickname for a cute guy, right?" he heard North say. He wanted to punch him but it was too late—
York doubled over and retched, emptying the entirety of his alcohol-filled stomach onto the street beside them. He collapsed to his knees, coughing and gagging as he felt someone kneel down beside him, patting his back.
"Man, I bet that felt good." Wash. Well, at least that got him to stop flirting with her…
"Shut up," York coughed out, leaning over further to vomit some more.
"Looks like he's not quite up to par these days, huh?" North said.
"Dude, he was in the Army, doesn't that usually make people super good at drinking?" Wash replied, still rubbing his back.
York opened his mouth to either argue or vomit again, but heard Lina say, "Uh, I've gotta go find my friends, are you guys okay here on your own?"
"Well, aren't you sweet? Of course I'll be fine," North replied. York wanted to kick him.
"Uh, I was more worried about that one," she said, probably meaning him. "But good to know."
York waited as he listened to them say goodbye, staring at the strange spot on the ground again as his head swam. He realized she was leaving and raised his head slightly, frowning. He caught a glimpse of a newspaper lying on the ground and reached for it, trying to wipe his mouth on a clean part.
"Yeah, fine, no goodbyes for me," he muttered from the curb. "I'm good, whatever, no one cares."
"Drink some water," he heard her say. "Have a good night!"
"Night, Lina!" North called out, waving back. Wash's arms encircled York's shoulders and helped him to his feet, and York let out a groan.
"Fuck," York swore, dropping the newspaper back to the ground. "I fucked that up, didn't I?"
"Don't worry about it," Wash reassured. "Maybe you'll run into her again?"
"Los Angeles is sort of big," North said. "I highly doubt it."
"Way to help, North."
"Sorry! I mean, I bet you will see her again. At least you know her name and what she looks like?"
York sighed and stumbled away, finding a bench outside of the club to fall on. "Shit, she was so pretty too," he mumbled, waving his hands in the air. "There was this, you know…connection between us. I could tell. Before I even talked to her."
"Did you even talk to her?" Wash asked, raising an eyebrow. "If I recall, North and I did most of the talking…"
"Shut up," York growled, leaning over to gag a little bit. He clutched his stomach as North sat down next to him, sighing.
"Let's get you home," he said, putting his arm around him. York nodded and leaned into him again, closing his eyes. He could see her in his mind, her beautiful red hair curling just under her chin, bright green eyes sparkling as she smiled at him.
