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Lottery tickets, as a concept, was always something Alec Celik had frowned upon. Throwing away your hard earned money for what? A chance to make it big? The concept alone made him want to laugh!
That was how he felt a couple of years ago at least. When your life hits rock bottom, when your wife leaves you and takes your son with her, when your life is ruined because of a shitty reality show? That literal ticket to success becomes oh, so alluring.
That’s how he found himself here. Gas station, a 6 pack and a Fireball in hand. Near check out, he stared at a Lotsa Cash ticket. He licked his lips.
“Can I get one of those?”
The tan skinned girl behind the counter smiled at him. “Of course!”
He blinked, he was outside. Odd.
He scratched his ticket. Triple cherries. Oh, that’s one million dollars in his hand, his golden ticket. He laughed to himself. He never had to go onto Disventure Camp it seemed! The solution to his marriage was here this whole time! It made him sick. Then, his vision turned blurry, the world began to shake?
“Hey pal, bar’s closed, get a move on!”
Black eyes opened wearily, the sight of a tanned girl wearing overalls greeting him.
“I saw you in my dreamsss…” the librarian slurred.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, sure you did buddy. Now come on, I gotta close up!”
He groaned, making an attempt to stand up before stumbling..
The bartender rolled her eyes. “Just take a seat, you can stay until you sober up.”
Sober up, his least favorite words. She was right however; his headache was splitting.
“Here, drink this.” A glass of water slid towards him.
Alec nodded, taking a sip.
“Fuck, why couldn’t it have been real…” he muttered.
“You had a good dream or something?” the bartender asked, rag in hand as she cleaned some glasses.
“You could say that.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
He chewed on that thought. He much preferred to drown his sorrows out with booze, rarely wanting to bother the bartenders with his problems. In spite of this, he felt compelled to go against this norm of his. The girl was rather charming, maybe it had something to do with that?
“I won the lottery…”
The bartender grimaced. “Yeowch, that dream does sound pretty awesome! Who knows, might be a sign you gotta get a ticket test, your luck an’ all!” She laughed at the thought.
Her good mood was not infectious, to say the least. Noticing his frown deepening, she asked, “You got a debt to pay off or something?” He shook his head. She stroked her chin in thought. “Alimony payments then?”
His mouth felt dry; he took another sip. “You’re good at this.” Alec muttered.
She beamed. “When you work as a bartender for as long as I have, you have a sixth sense for these kinds of things!”
“You’re close at least,” he began. “It’s not alimony. The money could’ve just saved our marriage, that’s all.”She raised an eyebrow. “Could it have though?”
He scoffed. “Of course it would’ve!”
She rolled her eyes at his outburst. “Haven’t you ever heard that money doesn’t buy happiness?”
He wanted to tell her of course it would have, but that brat’s nasally voice came into his mind like a flashbang.
“I’m sure money will solve your marital problems!”
This arc should’ve been wrapped up months ago! He was well aware that signing up for Disventure Camp was just a piss poor excuse at resuscitating a flame that died years ago, and being on the show only hammered that point in even more!
But rather than actually looking inwards and taking the steps to move on, here he was at a so and so bar, drinking until he could just forget that the problem was ever his fault to begin with!
It made him sick.
A bubbling sensation built up into his throat. Oh shit, it was actually making him sick. Either that, or the lack of food (he couldn’t even remember the last time he had something to eat), but his mind chose misery over logic.
He stumbled out of the bar quickly, cold air greeting him harshly as he emptied his guts onto the snow beneath him. Blinking tears away, he heaved again, his throat burning of cinnamon whiskey as the white beneath him was painted a sickly yellow.
“Here, take this.” Looking over, he saw it was the bartender, offering him a sandwich wrapped in foil and a water bottle. “It was my dinner for tonight, but you clearly need something to eat considering… that.”
He grabbed the food, swishing his mouth of vomit spitting it out. He muttered a thank you, before taking a small bite of the sandwich. Creamy peanut butter and grape jelly; this was Daniel’s favorite. Tears began to well up. He tried to stop them from flowing, but it was too late, the bartender noticed and was looking at him sadly. Just his luck,
“You clearly have a lot going on dude, so uh, here.” She offered him a card. “It’s where I go for therapy. My life hasn’t exactly been the best but they’ve helped me a lot with everything. Maybe they can be the help you need?”
Alec took the card gingerly. Tears began to well up again, but these were of happiness. This random bartender was so, so kind. She believed he could move past this, that he could become better. And maybe it was that Fireball talking, but being on these snowy streets, the street lamp illuminating her features? She looked like the most beautiful woman in the world.
“Thank you so much.”
She smiled at him. “Of course, I hope you can-” she was quickly interrupted by the tanned male trying to go in for a kiss. She shoved him away. “What the fuck dude!”
Panic set in; he fucked up badly. “I’m sorry I-”
“I don’t wanna hear it! Just go away, fuck man! I should’ve kicked you out instead of tryna help, god damn it you drunk people are always creeps!”
She got into her car, pulling off moments later. The librarian stood there in the cold, a half eaten PB&J and therapist card in hand. He stared at the card, before crumpling it up in frustration and tossing it and the sandwich on the ground. There had to be another bar around here, he thought miserably, stumbling slightly as he made his way through snowy streets.
As he made his way around a street corner, he spotted a 7/11. Maybe the bartender was right, maybe the dream was a sign to get a Lotsa Cash ticket and make it big!
He scoffed. Not like it matters; Cheryll was already gone and no amount of money was going to bring her back. He crept into the 7/11, making his way over to the whiskey.