Molly Luco turned right on a red, ignoring the “No Turn On Red” sign. The cops never paid attention to the details; they kept their focus on actual crime for the most part. Molly was grateful for the understaffed law enforcement department that night.
Stupid rain, she thought as she squinted at her windshield. The wiper blade on her side needed to be replaced. Yet another thing to tend to on her never-ending list. It hardly seemed fair. The list only grew because there were two people adding to it, and only she ever crossed things off.
She wished she did not have to hurry, but whenever she got the call from Johnny, he allotted her twenty minutes before putting her brother in a cab. If cab fare showed up on Kyle’s credit card, their parents would know she was dropping the ball on looking after Kyle. That was the agreement she made when she moved back home. Living rent-free was nice, but the few years of Kyle-free existence before she moved back in were unparalleled.
Molly parked in the fourth row of cars; the first three were only filled up when the universe knew she would have to brave inclement weather. Grinding her teeth, she pulled her thin coat up over her head and ran to the bar, squealing as the icy rain pelted her thinned frame like mini bullets.
“I’m here, Johnny!” she announced, shoulder-length black hair dripping onto the bar. Molly looked around as she shivered, but did not see her brother lounging in his usual booth. She ignored the barflies and loud music. She ignored the patrons trying to let loose and relax on their thank-God-it’s-Friday. She ignored the looks at her disheveled state and the two appreciative glances from the non-gentlemen challenging each other at the dart board to see who had the biggest penis. “Johnny!” she called again, interrupting him mid-flirt. “Where’s Kyle? I made it in,” she double-checked the clock on the wall, “sixteen minutes this time.”
Johnny excused himself begrudgingly from the tight low-cut shirt who had the same shade of sandy blonde hair as he did. “I left you a message, Moll.”
Molly pulled out her phone and checked it. Sure enough, one missed call blinked at her, mocking with its “I told you so”. She looked up at him, scrunching her nose. “What did it say?” A cloud of panic fluttered in her chest. “You didn’t let him drive, did you?”
Johnny cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow as he doled out three domestic beers. “I’d like to know who you think you’re talking to. Of course I didn’t let him drive. Someone offered to take him home.”
“Who? Kyle doesn’t have sober friends.” When Johnny gave a short snort to her comment, she realized most people would have been exaggerating if they said that. She was not. “Was she at least sober?”
“Not a she.” He poured six shots and slid them over to a gaggle of girls, who giggled at their daring as they downed the fiery liquid. “It was some guy.” Johnny sighed, and then spoke to stave off Molly’s ensuing questions. “Look around, Moll. It’s Friday night, so I’m pretty slammed. I gave you my courtesy call. This is the part where you say ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re so amazing, Johnny’. I also accept non-verbal gratitude.” He gave her a purposefully smarmy wink that, sure enough, got the predicted rise out of her.
“Thanks for the bare minimum, Johnny.” Molly pretended to throw up on the bar. “Yep. Gag reflex still works. Tried to picture that was you flirting for a second with that wink.” She walked down to the blonde in the tight shirt, slapped her hand on the woman’s shoulder and spoke so loud, the gaggle could hear her clearly over the music and commotion. “Tip your bartender good tonight, girls. He’s battling VD, and his insurance doesn’t cover much.”
Johnny threw up his hands to Molly’s look of vindictive pleasure. He tossed the dirty bar rag at her upturned nose, and then caught it when she whipped it back at him. “I don’t have VD,” he assured the blonde, who was already fishing around in her purse for cash to pay down her tab. “I don’t.” He turned and glared at the girl he had known since junior high. “Thanks a lot, Moll.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.” She returned his middle finger with an innocent smirk, tipping her imaginary hat to him before going back out into the worst storm of the year.