He was wearing a worn pair of jeans, a plaid shirt, and a baseball cap pulled down just enough to cover his clover eyes. The sound of his favorite boots walking on the hardwood floor made a few heads turn. Brighton opted for a stool at the bar, one which had a vacant spot on either side.
“Scotch neat,” he said to the bartender.
Brighton took his first gulp and welcomed the burn as if it would wash away the week’s ugliness. A few moments later, he felt a presence next to him, yet he did not acknowledge the body. He took another smaller sip and pulled a fifty out of his wallet.
“Keep it coming,” he commanded, slamming the bill down.
“Yes, sir.”
Harmony Blake’s week was a disaster. Pretending to be something you’re not was never easy when the role was the exact opposite of who you were. In addition, on Tuesday when the director had instructed her to fall over a child’s toy and land in another actor’s arms, the stunt did not go off as planned. Harmony’s face had come in contact with the corner of an end table. She had a huge welt that makeup could not cover until Thursday. All of her scenes had to be shot from her bad side until then.
“Jack and ginger,” she said.
The bartender mixed her drink and placed it on a napkin in front of her. She took a sip through the tiny straw.
“Fuck it.”
Harmony tossed the straw aside and guzzled at least half the drink.
“Keep it coming,” she repeated.
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