The three old friends sit quietly at a semi-classy bar. It's as nice as a bar in the middle of Pennsylvania can get. There are men in sports jackets and most of the girls wear small black dresses. Peter would never agree to wear anything nicer than his leather jacket.
Emma sits between the two boys, growing more and more bored by the second. On her right, Peter's nursing his third beer and watching the baseball game playing on TV. To her left, Roman's scrolling through his phone doing nothing in particular. She glances around the room and see's a small group of girls staring at Peter and occasionally glancing at her.
"I think," Emma puts a hand on his shoulder and leans closer to him with a small smile. "Those girls are staring at you."
"I think they're staring at Roman," Peter shrugs her off without hesitation. He takes a long sip without even looking in their direction. Emma glance's over to the boy in reference who doesn't look up.
"Well, he's not looking back." Emma pats him on his shoulder.
"Yet," Peter scoffs. He'd still been a bit touchy since their last conversation about Miranda. She thinks his ego might be a bit bruised, which is absurd and reasonable at the same time. It hadn't been brought up again and she figured he wanted it to stay that way.
"You should go talk to one. I'll make sure Roman stays away," she encourages him. Peter finishes the rest of his drink and takes a deep breath.
"I don't remember how to talk to women."
"Like you would anyone else?"
"I don't remember how to do that either."
"Oh, come on, Peter! You're cute, you're nice! You have a... a rugged bad boy look to you. Just go say hi." Peter grimaces and then nods. She watches from the corner of his eye as he approaches the girls. She gives him a smile of encouragement.
"Hey, can I buy you a drink?" The guy sitting next to where Peter had been asks. He has quickly jumped over to the abandoned chair and leaning closer to her.
"She doesn't need you to buy her a drink," Roman snaps before she can open her mouth.
"I'm sure she doesn't, but it's the polite thing to do."
"Not interrupting us would be the polite thing to do, but that didn't stop you."
"Well, she doesn't look like she's having a good time with you," the guy counters. "Are you having a good time with him?
"I-" Emma shakes her head and tries again.
"I don't see how that's any of your concern."
"I think she can answer for herself-"
"I'm alright," Emma says loudly enough to shut him. She glares at Roman, signaling for him to back off. She turns back to the stranger with a smile. "Thank you, but I'm alright."
"Asshole," Roman says under his breath. Emma takes a deep breath and chugs down the rest of her drink.
"Alright, alright," she says, finally feeling a bit of a buzz. "You feel better now that you've gotten to let out some anger?"
"That wasn't anger," he scoffs. "It was just- just rude of him to come bother you."
"Well, it's not exactly like I'm having a great time." Roman's mouth opens to argue, but nothing comes out.
"Shit," he finally says with a chuckle. "I'm not having a great time either. This bar sucks."
"Everyone else seems to disagree. I think that it might be user error on our part." The room around them is lively and people are enjoying themselves. It was the two of them sitting glumly at the bar that stood out.
"Where'd Peter go?" Roman asks.
"He's over there." She nods towards him. The girl seems interested, she's smiling at least. She shoots him a thumbs up. In the far corner of the bar, there's one woman who stares instantly at Roman. It's nothing unusual, women tend to do that. This one is different, she doesn't stare at him with lust, rather interest. Emma catches her eye- then she's gone.
"Want another drink?" The bartender offers Roman. She's good at her job, speaking in a way that is suggestive, but not so much to upset a girlfriend. Roman nods. "Another for her as well." The glasses appear quickly and are empty almost as fast.
"There hasn't been another," he says somberly.
"Huh?"
"The uh... The animal attack. There hasn't been another one, and Destiny can't get a reading on anything."
"That's good," she says.
"I'm not so sure about that." Roman motions for another drink. "Christina's body is missing," he says lowly, using the loud music as a blanket. "But there hasn't been another attack. It seems like an isolated incident. Peter couldn't smell anything unusual when he was out."
"That all sounds positive, Roman."
"I just have a feeling. I don't want this sneak up on us with everything else going on."
"I think you should focus on Nadia," she hesitates before saying the child's name.
"I am-"
"Just focus on Nadia. If anything else happens we can check it out, but now isn't the time to worry about it."
"How are you not worried about this?" He asks.
"Bold of you to assume I'm not." Emma sips at her drink with a smirk.
"Well, are you?"
"No," she shakes her head. "Why would I be?"
"Uh- y'know, maybe the constantly lingering prophecy of your death," he says with a sarcastic casualness in his tone. Emma shrugs, uninterested. "After all this time, you are still a mystery."
"Thank you."
"Of course," he says and picks up his half-empty glass. She mirrors him and clinks them together.
"What are we toasting to?"
"Me fucking up the case today-"
"No, you didn't-"
"Yes, I did-"
"I told you from the beginning they're going to be inclined to give custody over to Olivia. It would basically take an act of God to change that."
"It's just crazy to know all these things about her and not be able to share them." Roman finishes his drink. "If only people knew."
"If only..." Emma agrees. She wonders what other things Olivia had done that she hadn't seen. She has a hard time imagining that Roman even recognizes his own trauma. Trauma is a heavy word and it lingers like a bitter poison on her tongue. It never feels right to use on oneself. Trauma is what soldiers return home with after a tour in a war-torn country.
Drinks, drinks, and more drinks. A higher drinking tolerance and a fading tan is all she has left of the summer. Roman's in the middle of a sentence- something or another about work- when she abruptly excuses herself to the bathroom. The bar is more crowded than she'd noticed, and when she finally pushes her way into the bathroom she feels sick.
Behind the closed stall door, she takes a moment to close her eyes in a pathetic attempt to feel soberer. It works for a moment, but not long enough. She washes her hands slowly and stares at them with all her concentration. When she glances up at her reflection, she sees Olivia Godfrey standing behind her. She frantically turns around, water flying off of her soapy hands, to look for her. But behind her is only a woman waiting for a stall to open.
Emma offers the now spooked woman a small smile of forgiveness and finishes washing her hands. She walks back to the spot at the bar where had left Roman but he's gone. A panic washes over her that he has left her. She kicks into overdrive to plan how she would get home.
Luckily, Roman hasn't gone far. He sits on a couch, another drink in hand, and surrounded by women. She stands back to watch the scene unfold. Roman's face shows interest in the conversation around him, but his eyes are lifeless. His laughter holds no weight. It's all an act. It leaves her with a bitter taste in her mouth. No one should be that good at presenting themselves as happy.
He scoots over to make room for her when she joins him. A friendly and light conversation happens around her, with only mild reactions comprised of hum's and nods coming from her.
Peter's long gone before they realize he's nowhere in sight. Roman sends a text but doesn't receive a response. Emma feels melted into the grimy leather couch below her. She people watches with a devout interest. Everyone seemed to interact seamlessly. Even Roman looked at ease.
He must have noticed the way her blinks were lasting longer with each one she took. He taps her shoulder gently, pulling her awake. "You wanna go outside for a minute?" He asks.
Emma shivers at the light chill outside.
"Why are you wearing a dress?" He asks after noticing.
"You picked this out.
"Oh," he says. "Well, since when do you listen to me?
He offers her a bump which she gladly takes. Emma would be ashamed of how she looked if she hadn't been wearing designed clothing. Somehow it doesn't feel trashy to do drugs in an alleyway when you have money. Instead of looking junkies, they appear as the cool kids in some shitty 80's teen flick.
"Apparently for a long time," she jokes. She feels her feet stumble below her but catches herself. "Thank God I didn't listen to you about shoes."
"Good call." Roman leans back against the wall and lights his cigarette. She doesn't have any room to lecture him about quitting anymore. He takes one drag before throwing it to the ground.
She runs her hand down the seem of his blazer, feeling every stitch. "You know, the polite thing to do would have been to offer me your jacket."
"Since when have I been polite?" He smirks. "I don't know what could have given you that impression, but you are sorely wrong."
"Where the fuck is Peter?"
"If he doesn't come back soon I will leave him."
"He can't sleep on the street."
"Of course not, I saw a doggy daycare down the road from here-" She slaps his arm. "Kidding! I'll call him again before we go. He deserves a night out." Emma nods. "He hasn't tried to meet a girl since..."
Roman lets his words settle between them.
Miranda hadn't been mentioned in a long time. Apart from the necessary information for the private investigator, her name had been eliminated from their vocabulary. Emma wasn't sure how he felt about the girl he once tried to love now. She is sure, however, that Miranda was living rent-free in both of their minds.
Their vacation's often involved coke-initiated sex- usually ending unfinished with someone crashing too hard. During those hookups, Miranda always crossed her mind once. Because who knows what would have happened had she not jumper. Emma does know that because she did, Emma had salvaged her friendship with Roman. If Miranda were still around she wouldn't be.
Tonight was no exception. Miranda is the first thing on her mind when, after a few more bumps, she decides having sex in an ally isn't the worst thing she could do. For instance, she could have had a threesome with Roman and Peter then jump off of a building. That would be something she could do that was infallibly worse.
Now, for Roman, Miranda was the last thing on his mind. He had found her impossible to push out completely, but he could stuff it down for a while. It helps that his mind is moving faster than his body and that any thoughts of her only flash by quickly. He's so lost that it takes a while for him to notice a stranger watching them.
He had never seen this woman before, but she was vaguely familiar. Seeing her felt like recalling a distant memory. Blurry, but focuses enough to stir a feeling in him.
Right now, it's hard to feel like anyone is human. He's physically hypersensitive, but emotionally he feels vacant. Emma doesn't seem human at that moment. She was just another person. It's easy for him to accidentally create that illusion when she's behaving so out of character. The girl that he had come to the bar with would never blow someone in an ally, but here they were.
Because of that, Roman doesn't feel guilty. He should. Emma would be furious if she found out he was aware of someone watching them. Well, she was just really watching him. He doesn't want to stare back at this stranger, but something intrigues him about her. Maybe it's the confidence that shows through her actions, or the small smirk she meets his with, but he wants to know what her deal is.
He maintains eye contact as long as he can. He finishes with his eyes scrunched closed and a small chuckle. When he opens them back up the stranger is gone.
Obligatory reminder to always pee after sex and never have sex while either person is under the influence.
I'm so so sorry this is terrible I'm doing my best