The moment Nick Fiore entered the Faulk Street Tavern, Gus could tell that he was a changed man. That song had exerted its magic over him, after all.
She couldn’t say he looked better. Or, for that matter, worse. He just looked…changed.
At two in the afternoon, Carl Stanton was in his usual seat at one end of the bar, drinking coffee—on the house. Gus refused to sell him any drink with liquor in it, but she wasn’t going to make him pay for a drink he didn’t really want. He was sad, sulking, angry with her for denying him the whisky he’d ordered, angry with his wife for refusing to let him keep any whisky in the house. At least he was smart enough not to keep a bottle in his car. If Gus ever found out Carl was doing something as stupid as drinking while driving, she’d have Ed all over him before he could beep his horn.
Manny was mopping the dance floor. He put a lot of muscle into it—and he was endowed with a considerable amount of muscle—but the floor would be sticky again by nine that night. Gus wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if people were deliberately splashing their drinks as they walked around.
She was slicing lemons and limes as Nick crossed the room to her. “What can I get you?” she asked as he settled onto a stool.
“A ginger ale, if you’ve got it.”
She smiled, reached into the fridge below the bar and pulled out a can. “What else? You look like you need more than a soda.”
“I need Ed,” he admitted. “Is he around?”
She shook her head. “There was a fire down on Crawford Road, that old farm stand. Nobody hurt, but it looks like arson. Ed’s over there with the fire chief.”
Nick’s eyebrows flicked upward. “Rossetti’s? That place has been empty for years.”
“It’s been up for sale for years. No takers. I think someone decided to get rid of it the easy way, maybe collect some insurance money.”
“Well.” Nick sipped his soda. “At least no one got hurt.”
“That’s an advantage of setting empty structures on fire,” Gus noted. She lifted her knife and resumed slicing a lemon, shaping neat, thin wedges. “Anything I can help you with?”
Nick shook his head.
Gus waited patiently. Patience was one of the most important traits a bartender could possess. People came into her establishment to drink, to party, to have a good time—but they also came because they were looking for something. Often what they were looking for was a sympathetic ear. You just had to wait them out.
After a long, thoughtful silence, Nick asked, “Why can’t we ever escape our pasts?”
“Why can’t we escape our noses? They’re a part of us.”
“You can get a nose job.”
“Hmm. Well, I don’t think medical science has come up with some sort of surgery to alter our pasts.”
“You can delete data on a computer.”
“But it’s still there. Ed tells me the forensics guys can dig out all kinds of evidence people thought they deleted. Porn sites. Emails to lovers. All kinds of stuff. You think you’ve erased it, but it’s still there if a person looks for it.”
“How about if a person doesn’t look for it?”
She added the slices of lemon to a bowl and shrugged. “It’s still there.”
He nodded and drank some more soda. “I’ve got to tell Diana, don’t I.”
Gus recalled the pretty, doe-eyed woman who’d offered to buy the jukebox a couple of days ago—the pretty, doe-eyed woman who’d gotten caught up in “Changes” along with Nick. “I thought she was wearing an engagement ring,” Gus said.
“Not anymore. She broke off the engagement.”
“She changed, huh.”
Nick flashed a dark look at Gus. “All right. Let’s assume I wanted to change, too. Why can’t I change the part of me from my past that I don’t like?”
“You know what, Nick?” Gus set down her knife. “That part from your past isn’t so bad. I mean, sure, it’s bad, but it happened. It’s over. You got screwed, but you overcame it.”
“Some people don’t think I got screwed.”
“I do. Ed does.” She reached for a lime. “The folks who don’t think you got screwed aren’t worth worrying about.” She sliced. “Is Diana worth worrying about?”
“Yeah.” The word slipped out and Nick winced, as if he hadn’t wanted to admit that.
“Tell her,” Gus said. “If it scares her away, then she’s not worth it. If she’s worth it, she won’t be scared away.”
Nick sighed. He nodded. He drained his glass, stood, and slapped a couple of dollars onto the bar. “You’re a goddess, Gus,” he said as he stood. “I don’t know how Ed ever managed to snag you.”
“He got lucky,” Gus deadpanned.
Nick laughed a little forlornly, turned and strode across the room to the door. Gus watched him leave. He had it bad, she thought. One song, and he was a goner.