Page 30 of June: Jess' Story

Nah, more like she never moved on from him at all. I give it a 27% chance at success.

God you’re a debbie downer.

Yup.

So…when do I get to come visit? Meet your adoptive Daddy?

You’re such a fucking ass. Constantine isn’t my adoptive daddy, alright? He’s just…

An adoptive daddy?

Fuck you. Don’t come see me.

You can only hold me off so long!

Maybe, but I think your latest booty call/model of the week will do an alright job of it for me.

It’s been two and a half weeks.

You want a gold star?

My text is followed by ten middle finger emojis. I shrug, tossing my phone on the eat-in table then head back to the fridge.Chicken and broccoli.It’s practically the only thing in here, so I pull it out and start prepping the food for the grill. It’s the same shit I’ve been doing and eating for the last couple of weeks.

It’s starting to get old. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of the food, maybe it’s because I’m tired of eating alone. But I shouldn’t be. Because “alone” is good. Alone is where I thrive. I think it's the stagnation that I hate. The staying in one spot.Maybe it’s because you need to get laid and get it out of your system.That’s Blanks’ voice talking, not mine.

After running intohertoday, maybe he’s not wrong.

I step into Jimbo’s for the first time since I was probably 21. Jimbo’s is exactly what you’d think it’d be. Saw dust on the floor. Everything is raw wood on the interior. Same neon hanging on the walls since the gold rush of 49’.Not literally.

I head for the bar and some habits just die hard.At least four exits, probably 5, 16 total windows, best vantage point is far, left-hand corner of the bar turned out at a 45 degree angle.Bars aren’t really my scene, too much can go wrong. Too many people, and it’s typically too loud. But desperate times, right?

I case the joint, quickly spotting a familiar face. Not here for that, though, so I draw my ball cap down a bit more and make my way to the bartop.

I order a beer, read some news on my phone, and rudely let the bartender know I’m not interested in small talk about the Dodgers or the Giants. Neither are my teams. Baseball isn’t my sport.

The hardest part about being at Jimbo’s is going to be finding someone who’s not already shit faced and doesn’t have long dark hair.Too painful.

There’s a lot of pretty women in here, and a tall blonde catches my eye. I noticed her when I walked in, too. Instant eye contact, and it looks like she’s still interested. All good signs.

Haven’t done this in a while, but here goes nothing. Literally nothing, all I have to do is pocket my phone, make brief eye contact, and wait.

And bingo.She approaches, walking like a supermodel in cowboy boots. Heel toe, heel toe. She takes the seat next to me and leans forward like she might be getting the bartender's attention, but really it’s mine she’s seeking. Her drink is still 3/4ths full.

She looks at me with a smile, then back towards the bartender who is dutifully ignoring her, almost like they both know the drill here. I don’t care. That’s fine.

“Has anyone ever told you you look like a Hemsworth brother?”Only the last girl who picked me up.

“Nope,” I reply.

“That’s surprising. You look just like that guy in Avengers.” Hating this already.

“Huh, haven’t seen it.”

“WHAT? Get out!” She exclaims then lightly shoves at my shoulder.

“Seriously.”

“Well, if you ever want a buddy to watch it with, I’d be happy to volunteer.” She’s being quick about this, great.