Ever since her latest breakup with Jace, Myra had been spending more and more time at Miller’s, mostly because it made her feel better to drink alone in a bar than to drink alone at home with her dog. Eugenie had started to just lie down on the couch with her, every now and then glancing up with guilt-tripping puppy eyes. It was a lot easier to just go to Miller’s and come home tipsy to a disappointed pit bull.
So here she was, having come after work with a couple of co-workers who’d left once happy hour was over. She couldn’t fault them; they had families and lives and all those social commitments normal people were supposed to have. Instead, Myra was happy to order another margarita on the rocks and take a moment to scope out who was around that night. As it was the start of the Halloween weekend, there were already a few people out in costumes of varying degrees of effort, and she’d already had one guy stumble up beside her and ask if she was sexy Tom Cruise in that one movie.
“You mean Top Gun?” she laughed, used to getting the question when she was wearing her flight suit. Tonight, she’d kept her brown leather jacket on over her gray chambray shirt, although a pair of aviators were still clipped to her collar.
“Nah, Jack something,” the guy had mumbled as he guzzled down his fresh beer and wandered away laughing to himself. “Top Gun! Like a girl could do that!”
She’d switched to straight up shots at that point, and was on round three when a much cuter guy had stepped up to the bar and smiled at her. Myra knew she had to be at least five years older than him, but it didn’t stop her from smiling back. Younger guys meant better stamina, and that meant more fun for her.
“You look like you’re having a good time,” she told him, swiveling on her stool to better face him. “Celebrating?”