Jerry sat pensive at the open bar. Unfortunately the party was a bomb. The girl he’d been offered was annoying, beautiful, and empty. While once it would’ve been enough, now it was just irritating.
Suddenly, a glass was set in front of him. Bourbon. Neat. The only thing he refused to drink, mostly because…because…well, because it tasted like Dean. It was Paul’s drink of choice. People assumed he was a scotch man, but it was bourbon. Just the smell of bourbon could make him cry if he was unstable enough.
“Innkeeper! What the fuck is this?” He groused shoving it back at the bartender.
“Some guy bought it for you and left.”
“Who the fuck buys somebody a…” his blood went cold. He’d been here?
The bartender shrugged, “He didn’t say much, just…” the band started to play a song that hit him in the chest, “…he just requested the song.”
Jerry’s hands shook and he sat back down slowly.
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