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Chapter 10: Say It Right

Zoey approached the crowded hotel bar and took a seat at the edge, away from the other patrons.

"What can I get you darling?" the bartender, an aged yet handsome man asked.

Zoey smiled almost reluctantly as she sighed.

"Long Island, please."

"Ouch, that's a sign of a rough day, comin' up, dear," he said, walking away.

Zoey absentmindedly grabbed some nuts from a nearby bowl to eat as she brought out her notes for tomorrow: information about the school (true and false), fall-back stories and arrangements, the works.

Her drink appeared on the counter in front of her.

"Holler if you need anything else," the bartender said. Zoey glanced up to give a quick smile before returning to her notes.

She finished her drink soon enough and added a Martini and a Greyhound to her tab as the crowd slowly trickled out. The man playing the piano left, putting on a record player with soft classical music to fill the silence.

She worked in peace. All until she heard the distinct hum of Charles' chair.

She reached for the last crumbs from the bowl of nuts she had claimed to herself and closed her eyes as she heard Charles come up to her.

"Cuba Libre, please," Charles said over the mechanic hiss as he started to rise.

Zoey smirked at the bartender's gasp.

Hank had made some modifications to the chair. Charles was still reluctant to use the chair's hydraulics, but he always used it during their late night talks in the kitchen.

She remembered his laugh when she jumped back at the sound, and then when he stopped when their eyes were level.

She turned in her bar-stool to pull aside two stools, giving room for his chair.

"Coming right up, sir… sorry about that."

"No worries," Charles said smiling. Zoey finally looked up, meeting his gaze.

"Well, it seems you've been here a while," he muttered, eyeing her laid out papers. She had taken a lot of room since her side of the bar cleared out.

Zoey shrugged, looking down as she drummed her fingers on her book.

"Might be anxious," she said. She drew her 's' out and almost winced. She was somewhat drunk.

Make that very.

She closed her eyes tight for a moment. She didn't drink much – she became a bartender for that very reason. She could never drink on the job, and she knew she would hit rock bottom again if she drank during the day, which she usually slept through anyways due to her work schedule.

Before that job, she used to drink a lot – drink to get drunk and black out.

She didn't handle her mother's death that well.

She opened her eyes and looked over at Charles, who tilted his head.

"What?!" she asked, not really in the mood for his silent observations.

Charles raised his eyebrows.

"It's just that you seem so… relaxed."

"Am I not always 'relaxed'?" she asked, frowning.

She smiled as the bartender walked up, handing Charles his drink and quickly walking away.

Zoey grinned at that.

He was a good bartender, and it even made her miss being behind the bar when she watched him with customers. He talked to an old man for a while, flirted rightly with a group of girls who threw money at him; and best of all, he could tell that Zoey didn't want to be bothered when he came to collect her empty glasses.

And he made his drinks heavy, which Zoey needed.

"What are you grinning about?" Charles asked.

Zoey shrugged.

"I was just thinking that your drink was a surprise."

Charles smiled and raised an eyebrow.

"But why is Rum and coke such a surprise?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know… I mean of course I'm making assumptions, but the ones in nice suits and jackets usually go with Scotch, Whiskey, or Brandy."

"What do you think my usual drink would be?" Charles asked. Zoey smiled, meeting his gaze. She rested her head on her hand, leaning on the bar as she looked at him, trying to figure it out.

"Well let me test the waters first. Are you a sweet or sour man?" she asked.

Charles laughed, and shrugged.

"Honestly I like both types of drinks."

"Not helping… how about fruit? Is there a cherry, or a lemon slice?"

Charles knitted his eyebrows, thinking, and then nodded.

"Hmm... helps… but very little. Last question… and this is fair, is the drink clear or dark?" she asked.

Charles took a moment before replying.

"It's a colored liquor, but the drink makes it a mix of dark and clear."

Zoey nodded and bit her lip. Charles' eyes snapped right to her mouth, and she blushed and sat up, bringing her hands to her lap.

"I would have to say… a Whiskey Sour?"

Charles stared at her for a second before nodding.

"You read me, didn't you?"

"Oh come on, you'd know if I did. I'm just decisive that way."

Charles smiled, and took a gulp of his drink.

"Actually, that's why I came down here looking for you."

"Sorry, what?"

"Well, as you know, you will be teaching Psychology when we start the school year," he said.

"Yeah, I already gave you the course outline-"

"It's not about that. Seeing as you are the Psychology teacher, it occurred to me..." he stopped, and took a swig of his drink.

"What are you going on about?" Zoey asked, confused.

He took a deep breath.

"I talked to Joey earlier today. He really opened up, telling me something personal, something traumatic. We need to give these kids someone to talk to."

Zoey stared, and it only took her a moment or so before she realized what he was initially saying.

"A… therapist?" she asked.

Charles nodded.

"None of the kids will talk to a stranger," Zoey said, still confused.

"That's why I want it to be you."

Zoey burst out laughing.

Charles sighed.

"I'm serious, Zoey," he said over her laughter.

She finally calmed down, and patted at her eye with a napkin.

"Never knew you had such a sense of humor, Charles. It's a great color on you," she said smiling.

"I'm dead serious here."

She frowned.

"But why me?"

"As I said, you're teaching Psychology. Just integrate it into the syllabus-"

"I can't possibly get them to-"

"These kids have been through so much and we don't even know the half of it. I mean you saw the relationship between Joey and his parents, no wonder he has such an attitude. There's the way Janie is scared of loud noises, how Alex enjoys solitude more than company…"

"How sometimes Claire's happiness seems fake," she muttered.

"Exactly, Zoey!" he said smiling.

She sat there for a second, thinking about it.

"I'm saying yes for now. But I'm also drunk, so if I don't remember it, you'll have to talk me through it all over again – think about how dreadful that will be."

Charles shook his head.

"It's never dreadful when talking to you, Zoey."

She stared at him. Usually she would divert her gaze... maybe she was drunker than she thought, maybe she was just exhausted - but she leaned forward a smidge.

Charles leaned mirrored her, and was about to say something when the bartender shouted out last call.

Zoey sighed, moving back to collect her notes. Charles finished his drink.

"We've got a big day tomorrow," Charles said.

Zoey shook her head.

"That's an understatement."