"How could you know me? I haven't been in here before."
"Don't mind old Floyd. He says that to all the girls, when we get any. Not many'd be seen in this dump."
"I seen you before, only you wasn't you like you is now. You wasn't so pretty then as you is now." He smiled at her with a mouth missing all but three teeth. She spit the beer in her mouth onto the counter.
"Floyd, you drive away any more customers and I'll drown your sorry ass," the bartender said.
"He doesn't bother me," Samantha said. She motioned to the bartender for another beer. Her head felt lighter, but she still felt the sadness in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to drink enough to eradicate Joseph from her memory, to wipe away the last three years he'd been pretending to care about her as anything other than a pawn in his game. She gulped down the fifth beer in seconds. When the bartender reached for another, she said, "Bring me something stronger."
"Don't you think you've had enough, girlie?"
"I'm only getting started." He poured her a glass of whiskey, sliding it to her as she'd seen in an old movie. Joseph had been sitting at her side then, his hand on her knee. She threw back the shot. The bartender brought her another one.
"It isn't fair," she said. She couldn't see straight and her head kept bobbing side to side and yet the memories and the pain remained. "I want to go with him. I really do. I mean, I love him. I think. He's so nice and that body, oh my God, he has the greatest ass. When he's sleeping, I like to put my hand on there-"
"OK, girlie, you've had enough. I think you better get lost," the bartender said, clearing away her glass and empty bottles. She reached across the counter to grab his shirtfront.
"I'm getting sick of your fucking attitude," she said. "You think you're so much better than me because you're some old man and I'm a cute little girl. Well, I got news for you, pal: I'm like sixty years old. So fuck you and your 'girlie' and your ID and all that shit. Keep the drinks coming and keep your fucking opinions to yourself."
She shoved him back against the back wall, bottles of liquor rattling. With a trembling hand he set a bottle of vodka and a glass before her. She helped herself, filling the glass all the way to the top before throwing it back. "That's more like it." The bartender started to slink off towards the side. "You stay right here. Call the police after I'm gone."