The bartender placed the Bellini on the ancient table and smiled.
“Another tough week?” he asked.
It was late afternoon, and I sat at a table in the back. I faced the entrance, knowing my buddies would roll in soon. It had been a tough week, and I figured I earned my break.
“Can’t be all work,” I said raising my glass in mock salute.
He placed two fingers to his temple, returned my salute, performed a smart turn and marched to the bar. He mixed a good Bellini and tonight they would pile the glasses high. I sipped my drink and felt the Prosecco flood my bloodstream. Given my current condition, tomorrow wouldn’t be pretty.
Last night I didn’t sleep. My goal was close, and I spent today putting the finishing touches on the work. The alcohol reminded me I hadn’t eaten either. I was in the right place to rectify my oversight.
The boys burst through the front door and I waved. They made their way to the table while I struggled with my nerves. Maybe I shouldn’t tell them.
“Well?” Ted asked as the boys scuffed chairs across the floor, finding their places.
It was too late. I pulled thumb drives from my pocket and handed one to each of them.
“It’s all there. Read it. Tell me what you think.”
The boys cheered, and I descended into doubt.
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer