I SAT at a table in the back corner of the bar. Things had gotten way out of hand. Way past what even I would consider out of hand. I needed advice. There was only one person I wanted to talk to. I picked up my phone.
“Ryan here.”
The sound of my best friend instantly eased some tension in my body.
“Ryan, it’s Mica.” I worked to sound casual.
“What’s up, man?” He sounded distracted.
I cleared my throat and debated not bothering him, but the words came out of my mouth. “Could we talk?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“No, in person.”
He sounded surprised. “When?”
“Right now.”
His voice changed. It became more serious. “You okay?”
“I fucked up.” I looked around the bar, wishing more than anything I could go home. Not an option right now.
“How bad?”
I took a deep breath. “Real bad.”
Concern clouded his voice. “Where are you?”
“At Dewey’s Pub.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Thanks.”
I put my phone down, ordered a water and waited.
