Happy Birthday, Mikey

As I walked into the bar, I could see that Amy had already gotten started without me. She was sitting at the corner seat of the bar with about a half dozen shot glasses laid out in front of her, four of which were still full. Whiskey probably, since that’s what she usually drank. She was seated with her back to the front door, but wheeled around on the stool when I walked in, shielding her eyes from the sunlight which flooded the room.

“Expecting somebody?” I asked jokingly while walking up to the bar with one eye on her and the other on the shots. It wasn’t a surprise that she hadn’t waited for me to get there to get the party started, but I was a little disappointed. After all, it was my birthday, and you couldn’t start the party without the birthday boy.

“Nobody special,” she smiled. She gave me a kiss, and I could already smell the booze on her breath. Bourbon was the drink of the day apparently.

I sat down on the empty stool next to her and took in the place. I’d never been to Isaac’s before, but I had always heard good things. Of course, it was more of a nighttime hangout for most, but it was still pretty crowded for an early Friday afternoon. Happy Hour must have started early today, probably due to the beautiful summer day that waited just on the other side of the shaded windows.

Amy was looking at me waiting for me to say something. “Happy birthday!” she finally blurted out, smiling, but with a confused look in her eyes. “Is something wrong, Mikey?” she asked as she grabbed the closest two shots and put one in my hand. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

I was still looking around the room as she spoke. Over here there was a forty-something Wall-Streeter in a three-piece reading the sports page as he sipped his scotch on the rocks. There, a group of college kids laughed and cheered as one of the girls tried to chug a pint. There were about twenty people in the bar, including the bartender and wait-staff, and they all seemed to be fully enjoying the start of the weekend.

“Hello…Mikey?” she spoke as she waved her hand in front of my eyes.

“Sorry, it was just a long week at work,” I replied with a grin. She looked beautiful in the soft yellow light of the bar lamp that hung overhead. Her blond hair flowed down her back in overlapping golden sheets, while her gray-blue eyes scanned my face for a clue to my mood. “I just needed a drink…and to see you. Not necessarily in that order of course,” I said as I lifted my glass.

Amy giggled at the flattering remark and her eyes settled on mine as the smile ran away from her face. “Here’s to you,” she said as we raised our glasses to our lips. We both downed the bourbon, and in perfect succession slammed our glasses on the bar. First her, then me. She always could drink faster than me.

“Bartender,” I called out as I dropped my head and raised my hand, “Two lagers!” That first shot of the day always hurts a little bit, like a fire in your belly that shoots up and numbs your throat on the way. And nothing chases that feeling better than a beer.

The bartender walked over with the beers in hand and took my ten dollars. “Keep it,” I said as he backtracked across the bar toward his next customer.

Amy and I picked up our drinks and tapped glasses saying, “Cheers,” in unison. We both turned as the front door opened and sunlight blinded us. It blinded me at least. I kept drinking as I turned back to the bar, but Amy had put her glass down and stood up.

“I’ll be right back,” she said as she spun around and walked toward the ladies’ room, rubbing her eyes as she went.

Once she was inside the bathroom I reached into my pocket. I had been nervous this whole time, but I hadn’t realized how nervous until my vision cleared and saw my hand shaking. Shaking or not, I pulled out the small vial I’d brought with me. I wasn’t really sure what it was, but the guy I had bought it from said that it wouldn’t take long to work. That, and you couldn’t taste it mixed with whiskey.

I grabbed the last two shots on the bar and slid them closer to me. I looked around nervously and sipped from the first glass. I drank about half of it, and mixed the missing liquor with the contents of the vial. I looked around again. Nobody seemed to have noticed anything, but if they had, would they still be looking?

“One more shot,” I said to myself, “and then you can get out of this fucking town.” And along with me, all of hundreds of thousands of dollars we kept in that safe deposit box at the bank. Half of the money was mine anyway, but I hadn’t gone through this for only half. Again, I could feel my nerves tightening up when she finally emerged.

Amy strutted back over to me and sat down. “One more?” she said as she picked up the glass I had put in front of her, with a half-drunk look on her face.

“Ok, babe,” I replied, trying to stay as calm as possible. I could feel the sweat building up on my forehead, but tried not to think about it. We tapped our glasses and drank our shots. “A lot smoother…that one,” I said.

“Sorry Mikey, I gotta get goin’,” she said with a sadness building on her face. “I know that it’s your birthday, but I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye.” Tears began to well in her eyes. Her complexion flushed. She threw a crumpled bar napkin in front of me and hurried over to the door and out.

I was shocked. This, I hadn’t expected. None of the other times I had scored off of the women I’d partnered up with, had any of them ended it with me. It didn’t matter, but still I was shocked. She was going to die either way, and the $500,000 would still be mine. I should have been able to relax, but my nerves continued running high. I thought the drinks would have helped that.

I stared down at the old wooden bar and burped. Time to get out of Dodge, I thought as I glanced over at the crushed napkin she threw at me. I could see lipstick smeared on its crumpled white surfaces, folded in on themselves in some rag-tag version of origami. The auburn shade jumped out and drew me in toward it. I picked it up and noticed a pattern to the lipstick. Lines and squiggles wrapped around the inside of it.

I guess I knew what it was before I opened it, but I still didn’t believe it. Written across the napkin in three bold lines were: “Happy Birthday, Mikey; I’m Taking The Money; Sorry It Had To End This Way.”

She had beaten me to the punch.

I fell off of my stool onto the floor in shock, and brought one of the shot glasses with me. The tightening continued in my stomach and chest, and the fire had returned to my insides, stronger than I’d ever felt before. With the crash of the glass on the floor, two of the waitstaff rushed over to see if they could help me, but it was too late. The darkness was closing in. At least she would have the same fate in about five minutes though…Happy birthday to me.