Three: Wherein Our Heroes Confront the Emotional Complexity of the Situation

Kim held the door open to the establishment for her ex-lover, noting the immediate look of approval on Kerry’s face as she surveyed the darkly elegant decor. Mahogany tables, polished to a high shine, were scattered loosely throughout the room whose focal point was a magnificent bar, stocked with gleaming bottles and glasses. High ceilings and lazily-circling fans eliminated any cigarette haze before it even thought of collecting, removing much of the chore of spending time in places like these. The low murmur of conversation greeted them as they entered, provided by scattered groups of women along the bar and seated at the tables.

"I don’t think I’ve ever been here," Kerry remarked.

"Found it shortly after I moved to Chicago. Owners are queer, but the clientele is gay and straight. Mostly professional women looking for a place to unwind after work and who aren’t interested in the meat market scene. They really get hopping around seven or so. Things are winding down now, and they’ll close up in a few hours." Kim shrugged diffidently. "It’s as good a place as any to pass the time."

Kerry cocked her head, watching the vaguely auric lighting throw the high planes of Kim’s face into sharp relief. "Why didn’t you bring me here before?"

"You weren’t particularly interested in going out a whole lot, we when were together," Kim remarked wryly, her tone removing much of the sting of the words. "If I remember correctly." Kerry opened her mouth as if to respond, then– seeming to think better of it– only nodded once in admission of the truth in Kim’s words. Glancing towards the tables, Kim cocked her head. "Would you rather the bar or a table?"

Kerry hesitated only a second. "Let’s stay at the bar."

Kim nodded in agreement. A table implied intimacy. A table implied privacy. A table implied a couple.

Which, looking into Kerry’s green eyes, Kim knew they were most emphatically not.

The bartender strolled over in their direction, a pleasant smile on her face. "What can I get you ladies?"

"Connemara," Kim replied easily, then turned to Kerry expectantly. Time was, she’d order the Irish whiskey for herself and the smoother Scotch for her lover. But not today. Not anymore.