Her head swam in a deep fog as she downed her 4th Jack and Coke. People came and went around her, some greeted them, and others didn’t. Isabelle had come searching for Brendon at some point, and Iris watched her best friend do a duck into the men’s bathroom to hide from his ex-wife. Iris sat and watched; Isabelle looked over at Iris. Isabelle seemed angry and upset with everyone around her. She had just marched up to Markie. “He has divorce papers to sign. I would like to know where he is.” She snarled at poor Markie, who held up his hands and said nothing about Brendon hiding in the bathroom. Iris stood up from the bar, only for Isabelle to put a hand up to stop her. “You have to know where your best friend is. The two of you are never very far away from each other. If anyone of these dumb fucks knows where Brendon is, it would be you.” Iris laughed and pushed past her, her drink spilling a little over her hands and making it sticky. Iris cursed and turned around to face Isabelle. “Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch, then maybe I wouldn’t have had to drag his ass out of more drug houses than I care to remember. Perhaps if you hadn’t made his life a living hell, then my best friend would still be himself and not a shell of the man he once was, you fucking bitch. Now get the hell out of my favourite pub and stay gone.” Isabelle stared at Iris in shock. In the three years she and Brendon married, they had only met when Iris brought Brendon home. She had witnessed more fights between Brendon and Isabelle, and they had been brutal. Some nights Brendon had disappeared to the caravan park and pitched up to her place in the morning for a hot shower and piece of toast before he left for work. Isabelle stared in shock before her face contorted into a rage. Markie came out from behind the wooden bar and put a hand on Isabelle’s shoulder to warn her that if she went any further, she would be removed from the pub by force if necessary.
Markie’s hand was shrugged off, and her best friend’s ex-wife left the pub in a huff. Iris walked around the pool table, toward the bathrooms hidden in the back and down a dingy alleyway with several cameras to protect patrons from their own stupidity. The men’s bathroom was at the end of that short alleyway. The door was locked. She lifted her hand and knocked on the door. Three sharp raps and Brendon poked his face out from behind the door. HE looked rather sheepish. “Has she gone?” he asked with a hand wiping his nose. Iris narrowed her eyes and held out a hand. “Cocaine or a runny nose, Brends?” Brendon dug his pockets out in front of her. His bike keys were laid in her hand, as were his cell phone and a packet of cigarettes. She placed those items into her own pockets and, with ease of practice, patted him down and made him take off his shoes, and she searched his shoes to make sure he hadn’t shoved a small bag into his shoes or socks. Brendon endured the search with the air of someone used to being patted down by his best friend. Iris put his shoes back on the floor. “I’m sorry, I just had to be sure.” They looked at each other. Laughter suddenly echoed throughout the alley; Brendon slung an arm around his best friend. “I appreciate the concern. Is she gone, though?” Iris nodded and slipped out from underneath his arm to open the door. People were waiting outside to get into the bathroom. They gave Brendon and Iris the stink eye as they exited the bathroom. Iris mumbled apologies as they moved past all the people. Some people smiled in acknowledgement, and others grunted angrily. Iris could not care less about what they thought happened in the bathroom. The short walk was all it took for her to decide what to do about her best friend. Her grandfather was gone, and the house had passed to her. She had three unoccupied bedrooms, and she could barely stand her thoughts. Other than her beloved Cocopops, she was alone in the world. She could scarcely spend a night with her dog by her side. Brendon was struggling with his life, and maybe having someone around him would help in more ways than one. She ran a hand over her tattoo and resolved to help her best friend as much as possible.
She sat down at the bar with Brendon beside her. Another Jack and Coke was placed before her, and she smiled at Markie. “Get Brends a rum and coke. Poor bastard needs it.” The barman laughed and busied himself with the drink before handing it to Brendon. “On your tab, I assume?” Iris nodded, and he rang it up under her name.
Brendon raised his glass in thanks, and they sat silently for a while as people in and around the bar moved, spoke and laughed all around them. “You still looking for a place to live?” Iris asked after she sipped her drink; the ice cubes clinked in the glass as she placed it on the scarred bar counter. Brendon didn’t look up when he nodded. “Yeah, still trying to find a place, kind of running out of safe friends to crash at.” “Why don’t you take the spare bedroom? I will start clearing out my grandad’s room soon and move in there. Gonna need a housemate before I go crazy from the quiet.” Brendon looked up in shock. This was the closest he had ever seen Iris touch upon her grandfather’s passing since he had passed two weeks before. He had begged her to talk to him, but she had said nothing, never hinted that she was feeling alone in that house. He felt another wave of release flow through him as he saw her finally be vulnerable. Her phone rang out in the pub, and Iris slipped to the floor to pull her phone out of her pocket. The screen lit up her face, and he saw rage pass over her face quickly before she swiped, and the phone went silent in her hand. “I need to go home. Are you following on the bike or coming in the car?” She asked as she signalled Markie for the tab and her car keys. Her keys jingled as they were passed over the counter along with a card machine so she could tap her card. With the bar tab paid and her keys in her hands, Iris walked out of Hole in the Wall without seeing if Brendon was following. She pressed her fob, and her car beeped. The night air chilled her almost to the bone in her shorts, but it was sobering. She heard Brendon’s bike start-up as she started her car. She pulled her car out of the parking space and drove off. Anger drove her, and after what seemed like 5 minutes, she pulled up to the curb of her house while a lone truck sat in her driveway. Bright red, it looked imposing. Her door opened, and Iris climbed out smoothly, barely tripping over her heels.
Wynne sat in the truck, and Iris turned around just as Brendon pulled up behind them. Rage showed in her face, and her head still spun from all the drink she had drunk earlier that night. “Leave now.” Iris spat as she drew nearer to the truck. Wynne barely paused before pulling a bunch of roses from the passenger seat. Iris raised an eyebrow, and she heard Brendon laugh from behind her. “Do you really think that a bunch of roses will make up for what you said?” “No, but I was hoping it would help,” he answered as she stared at him. Iris ran a hand through her hair, purple strands falling over her face. Wynne raised a hand to brush a few strands from her face. Iris almost leaned into his hand but pulled away. Brendon watched her, his hands tightening into fists at his side.
Another car pulled up beside them. It was blacker than night. The grill glowed with red light, making such a loud noise that Iris was sure the neighbours would complain in the morning.