You won't be needing it

Stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him. his eyes scanning the room as he makes his way towards the counter. But something feels off. The usual lively atmosphere is missing, replaced by an unsettling silence. The only sounds are the muted hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses.

Lucas's brow furrows in confusion. Where is the music? The bar is always alive with the sound of rock music or jazz, but today it's eerily quiet. He looks around, wondering if someone has died or if there's been a power outage.

Not minding, he approaches the counter, Jordan, the bartender, greets him with a somber expression. "Hey, Lucas it's been a while since we last saw, What can I get you?."

"What's going on? Where's the music?" Lucas takes a seat, his eyes locked on Jordan.

Jordan's expression turns apologetic. "Sorry, man. The music system crashed, and we're waiting for someone to come fix it."

Lucas raises an eyebrow. "That's weird. It's never happened before."

Jordan shrugs. "Yeah, it's been a strange day. First, Caroline calls in sick, and now this."

Lucas's eyes narrow. "Well, give me a whiskey on the rocks, then. And keep it coming till the music comes back on."

Jordan, the bartender, looks at Lucas with a puzzled expression as he tries to process his order. "Whisky on the rocks, Are you sure?"

Lucas nods, his eyes fixed on Jordan. "Yes, I'm sure. Why wouldn't I be, You thought I was done with alcohol? ".

Jordan nods, his expression sheepish. "Yeah, I guess I made an assumption ".

Lucas chuckles, a dry, humorless sound. "You have no idea what's going on in my life, do you?"

Jordan looks at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

Lucas leans in, his voice low. "Just pour the whisky, Jordan. I need it."

Jordan displays his brown set of teeth, his expression sympathetic. "Coming right up."

Lucas is so lost in thought that he doesn't even notice the person sitting, facing the opposite direction, seemingly engrossed in something on their phone.

The person is wearing a hoodie and sunglasses, making it impossible to discern any defining features even if his mind is sending a different message

He tries to brush it off as paranoia, but the feeling persists. Who is this person?

Jordan arrives with a whiskey on the rocks, his eyes locked on Lucas's tense form. "Here you go, Lucas. Whiskey on the rocks, just like you asked for."

Lucas takes the glass, his fingers wrapping around it like a lifeline. "Thanks, Jordan. I need this."

Jordan nods, his expression sympathetic. "Rough night, huh?"

Lucas takes a sip, the whiskey burning down his throat. "You have no idea."

Jordan leans in, his voice low. "Want to talk about it? Sometimes sharing the burden helps.

Lucas looks at Jordan, his eyes searching for a glimmer of hope. But as he gazes into the bartender's concerned face, he realizes that the only one who can truly help him is Steve.

He takes a deep breath, his mind made up. "Jordan, I appreciate your willingness to listen, but I think I need to wait for Steve. He's the only one who can clear up this mess."

Jordan nods understandingly. "I get it. You're loyal, Lucas. I respect that."

Lucas's resolve hardens, his heart determined to see this through. "I'll wait for him, no matter how long.

Jordan places a hand on Lucas's shoulder. "You're a good friend, Lucas. I'll make sure to keep the whiskey flowing while you wait."

Lucas forces a smile, his eyes fixed on the entrance. "Thanks, Jordan. I'll need it."

Lucas takes another sip of his whiskey, his eyes fixed on the entrance, waiting for Steve to arrive. But before he can take another sip, the person who had been sitting with their back to him suddenly spins around in their seat.

"Actually, you won't be needing that drink, Lucas," the person says, their voice low and mysterious.

Lucas's eyes narrow, his gaze fixed on the person and it hit him immediately. "Steve?" Lucas asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is that you?"

Steve is smiling as he replies "yeah, flesh and blood. "

Lucas's eyes widen in shock, his mind reeling with confusion and anger. "Steve, what the...? Why didn't you tell me you were already here? Why did you let me think you were still on your way?"

Lucas's eyes narrow, his mind still processing the surprise of Steve's presence. "Steve, where's your car? I didn't see it in the parking lot or anywhere around here. You didn't walk here, did you?"

Lucas's grip on his whiskey glass tightens. "What's going on, Steve? Or did you and Monalisa plan a heart attack for me? ."

Steve's eyes never leave Lucas' face as he asks question after question. He studies his friend's expressions, his body language, his tone. And with each passing moment, as Lucas presses on, his questions becoming more insistent, Steve's face becomes a mask of calm determination. He says nothing, his silence a deliberate choice.

Lucas's frustration grows, "Steve, what's going on? You're not saying anything."

Steve's silence is finally broken as he reaches out and takes the glass of whiskey from Lucas' hand.

Steve's expression turns serious, his eyes locked onto Lucas'. "Lucas, is Monalisa okay? I mean, is everything alright at home?"

Lucas' face darkens, his eyes flashing with anger. "Monalisa? You're trying to ask if she's okay ? Are you kidding me? The main concern should be me not her. "

Steve's eyes widen, taken aback by Lucas' sudden outburst. "Lucas, what's wrong?"

Lucas' voice rises, his words spilling out in a torrent of frustration. "She's been getting on my nerves every day, Steve! Constantly annoying me. "

Steve's expression turns from surprise to shock. "Lucas, I had no idea. I thought you two were doing alright. "

Lucas' laugh is bitter. "Doing alright in deed? Are you joking?

Steve's eyes narrow, his voice firm. "Lucas, what did Monalisa do this time? What's going on between you two?"

Lucas' gaze drifts away, his eyes fixed on the whiskey in Steve's hand. "Give me my drink back, Steve."