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Penelope Garcia ran her fingers around the edge of her glass and then drew little hearts on the bar with the condensation she collected. When she made eye contact with the bartender, she gestured at her glass.
“Another of the same, please,” she said quietly.
He nodded and set about making her another drink. The bar was almost deserted, and the lack of other people was just reinforcing her own sense of loneliness and isolation. She’d come there hoping for some distraction, perhaps a beautiful man who was open to an idle flirtation, or at least some easy people watching. Instead, she was one of three patrons in the whole place, and the other two were a couple in their sixties having the kind of argument that sounded like they’d gone over it at least a hundred times. She picked up her almost-empty glass and drained it, allowing one of the ice cubes to slip in her mouth. She crunched on it happily for a minute while she watched the bartender work.
“One Mexican Firing Squad Special,” he said, presenting the fresh glass with a flourish and a wink. “Enjoy!”
“Thanks,” she sighed, fluttering her eyelashes at him almost as an afterthought. “You’re a gem, Monty.”
“What’s a pretty woman like you doing in here all by yourself?” he asked, leaning both hands on the bar and regarding her curiously. “You don’t seem the type to lack for company.”
That surprised a laugh out of her, and he grinned.
“I find myself lacking a certain kind of company of late,” she said, drawing stars on the bar. “And I’m only in town for work, anyway.” She shrugged dismissively. “Had a really sucky day.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Monty murmured sympathetically. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” she admitted, but she smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
“It’s practically in my job description.”
“Listening to strangers’ sob stories?”
“Yep,” he said cheerfully, “that and mixing obscure cocktails on demand.”
“It’s not that obscure, is it?”
“I think I’ve been asked to make it exactly twice in my life, and both times were tonight.”
“Shall we make it a third?” Penelope retorted, holding her glass aloft as if she were going to drink it all in one go.
“There’s no rush,” he said soothingly. “But I’ll make you another one when you’re ready.”
She smiled weakly and took a small sip of her drink. She wrinkled her nose at the taste that she hadn’t quite acquired yet and Monty scoffed.
“Why are you drinking it if you don’t like it?”
“What makes you think I don’t like it?” Penelope fired back, taking another ostentatious sip. “It’s delicious!”
“Everything I make is delicious,” Monty murmured. “But that doesn’t mean it’s to everyone’s taste.”
Penelope narrowed her eyes suspiciously and said, “Are you trying to get philosophical while I’m just trying to get drunk?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Good.”
“Besides, you’re nowhere near drunk yet if you can still say philosophical without stumbling.”
“I’ll get there, don’t worry.”
Monty laughed softly and tilted his head to the side, considering her. She held his gaze for a long moment before she caved, hiding her face in her hands.
“Alright, I’ll tell you!” she cried, peeking out between her fingers. “Have you ever considered a job in law enforcement? You’d be an excellent interrogator.”
“Do they let alcohol in interrogations?” Monty asked lightly. “Because that’s the only way I know how to get information out of people.”
Penelope laughed and looked down at where her hands were once more circled around her glass.
“I kinda found this cocktail while I was planning a trip with my boyfriend. You know, something to get me in the spirit of the trip? We were supposed to go to Mexico this week.”
“Okay.”
“And then the trip sorta didn’t happen.”
“Work get in the way?”
“Something like that,” Penelope said, shrugging. “My work has a habit of getting in the way of everything.”
“You must love it, then,” Monty said, trying and failing to catch her eye, “if you’re okay with that.”
She shrugged again.
“Okay, so you were kinda planning a holiday with your boyfriend, but it sorta didn’t happen and now you’re here for work. Is that all?”
“Well, that and the fact that he broke up with me,” Penelope said with false cheer as she raised her glass in a mocking toast. “And I’ll be sure to drink to that!”
She downed the cocktail and then let out a loud noise of disgust, shaking her head so dramatically that Monty couldn’t help but smile.
“How about a nice glass of water now, huh?” he suggested gently, reaching for a clean glass. “On the house.”
“You’re too kind,” she said sarcastically, but she accepted the glass and took a small sip. “I probably shouldn’t be hungover for the journey home. I don’t want anyone to know—”
She trailed off sadly and Monty sighed.
“You don’t want anyone to know that you guys broke up?”
“Yeah.”
“Makes sense,” he said practically. “It can get awkward discussing relationship stuff with colleagues. Some things you just want to keep to yourself.”
“I guess.”
“And maybe you guys will get back together anyway, and this will be nothing more than a tiny speedbump in your story.”
“Unlikely,” Penelope said bitterly. “Our breakup scene was not what dreams are made of.”
“Oh?”
“The worst of the worst,” she confirmed. “It got ugly really fast.”
“Bad, huh?”
“Like, Mt Vesuvius levels of bad.”
Monty let out a low whistle and shook his head.
“Hence the drinking?”
“Hence the drinking,” she agreed. “Speaking of—”
Monty was just about to try to argue against any more drinking on her part for a while when his eyes were caught by a man storming into the bar, a look of fierce determination on his face. When he caught sight of Penelope, his whole body seemed to relax, and a warm smile spread across his face.
Interesting, Monty thought to himself.
“Looks like your boyfriend maybe saw the error of his ways after all,” he said confidentially, gesturing at the man standing in the doorway looking her way.
Penelope squinted at him for a moment and then let out a disbelieving laugh as he started to move towards her.
“That’s not my boyfriend,” she said, glaring accusingly at him. “That’s my best friend from work. I don’t even know what he’s doing here.”
“Really?” Monty asked, surprised. “I’ve gotta say that if my best friend looked at me like that, I’d be making wedding plans already.”
Penelope snorted a laugh just as Derek came up beside her.
“Baby, what are you doing here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Monty raised his eyebrows suggestively and mouthed Baby? at her, but she ignored him.
“I was just getting a drink and chatting with Monty,” Penelope said breezily. “Derek Morgan meet Monty, the best damn bartender in all of Tucson.”
Derek flicked a glance briefly at Monty, who smiled broadly at him, before he turned his attention back to Penelope.
“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.
“Of course, I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Penelope,” he said seriously, leaning into her space a little to look her in the eyes. “I know you, okay? I know when something is off, and you haven’t been happy the whole time we’ve been here.”
“The case—”
“And don’t try to tell me it’s the case because I know it’s something else.”
Penelope sagged a little in her seat and Derek gently put a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to him.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong, baby girl?” he whispered. “Please?”
Penelope’s eyes filled with tears and Derek cupped her face in both hands.
“Penelope, you know it kills me to see you in pain. Won’t you please trust me to help you?”
Now completely overwhelmed and unfortunately drunker than she thought, Penelope just closed her eyes and threw herself into his arms, trusting him to catch her. He held her for a few moments, whispering soothing words into her hair and rubbing his hands down her back. When she eventually calmed down enough to face him again, she pulled back slowly and sheepishly accepted the napkin that Monty handed her. Derek ignored the bartender completely, his attention entirely focused on her.
“Derek,” she murmured, her hands clutching at the front of his shirt. “Why are you so good to me?”
“Don’t know how to be any other way with you,” he said sincerely. “You know I think you deserve the world, if only I could give it to you.”
Penelope attempted a flirtatious tone as she said, “I’ll take all you can give me, handsome.”
Derek’s lips quirked into a smile.
“You sure about that? I might be more than you’re used to, you sure you can handle all of me?”
“I’m dying to find out.”
“That right?” he asked. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for when you’re feelin’ a little better.”
“Please do,” Penelope replied seriously.
Derek blinked in surprise, as if he’d only just realised the turn their conversation had taken.
“For real, baby girl?”
“As soon as I’m sober, Derek Morgan, you just wait and see how real this is.”
Monty watched as a look of pure, unadulterated joy spread over the other man’s face and smiled to himself as he pretended to wipe down the bar.
“But for now,” Penelope continued, “can you help me back to my room? These cocktails of Monty’s are hella strong and mama may have drunk one too many.”
“I’m at your service,” Derek said, standing back and offering a hand to help her up from her stool. “Just tell me where to go.”
“Oh, good,” she purred, leaning in close and only slightly stumbling in her high heels. “Keep that attitude in mind for later.”
Derek laughed and offered her his arm. Monty offered a wave to Penelope who grinned and blew him a kiss as she was led out of the bar.