Chapter Text
Vi hummed to the familiar tune playing from the overhead speakers as she wiped down the counter with an old rag. It was a typical Friday night at The Last Drop; not too busy, but likely the most business they would get all week. The bar’s usual patrons took their practically assigned seats, and a decently loud chatter flowed throughout the room. Vi loved her job. It was simple. She liked simplicity.
Vi didn’t notice the chime of the bell above the front door at first—she was too busy telling Frank that he couldn’t just light a cigarette indoors no matter how many “goddamn years” he had been coming here. But the drop in volume across the room was enough to turn Vi’s head.
She wasn’t a regular. That much was obvious.
She looked like she had gotten off the subway four stops too early—burgundy coat hugging her tall figure, her blouse tucked neatly and crisply into tailored slacks, and shoes that probably cost more than Vi had made in two weeks' worth of shifts. Her dark navy hair was tied up like it hadn’t been touched since morning, just slightly mussed, like she'd run her fingers through it a hundred times but refused to admit she cared.
But the thing Vi noticed most was her eyes—sharp, but tired. The kind of tired that didn’t come from a bad day. The kind that had been established years ago. Vi was instantly intrigued and made it her mission to find out everything she could about this mystery woman. Vi leaned against the bar, tossed her rag aside, and crossed her arms. “You lost or just looking for an adventure?” she asked with amusement in her tone as Caitlyn hesitantly slid onto the stool in front of her.
The woman blinked, like she was surprised anyone had spoken to her. She glanced around. “I…no. I’m not lost. I just needed somewhere quiet.”
Vi chuckled for a moment, running a hand through her wild pink hair before speaking again. “Well, I can’t say that you’ve come to the right place…because you definitely have not, but I can make you a drink. So what’ll it be?”
The woman hesitated, her fingers brushing the wood of the bar. “Something strong. Neat.”
Vi raised a brow. “That narrows it down.”
“Do you have St-Germain?”
Vi blinked. “Is that a friend of yours or a drink?”
A beat of silence. Then the woman let out a short laugh—dry, but real. “It’s a French liqueur,” she said, adjusting the strap on her purse like it annoyed her. “I’m guessing that’s a no.”
Vi grinned. “You guessed right. We don’t do French here. Hell, we barely do domestic.” She leaned her elbows on the bar. “But I can make something that won’t taste like floor cleaner if you want.”
Caitlyn raised a brow. “That’s a low bar.”
Vi winked. “That’s the name of the place, isn’t it?”
The woman’s lips twitched again, closer to a smile this time. She studied the shelves behind Vi for a second, then gave in. “Alright. Surprise me. Something strong. Not sweet.”
“You got it, princess,” Vi said, turning around. She didn’t miss the way the mystery woman raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing. She liked that. Not too uptight. Vi poured the woman her drink and slid it across the counter, then leaned forward. “You don’t look like the kind of woman who comes to dive bars at ten in the evening.”
The woman lifted the drink and studied it. “And you don’t look like someone who’s spent a day not serving at one.”
Vi huffed a laugh at that. “Touché.” At this point, Vi would typically ask if the patron wanted to start a tab or pay upfront, but Vi had the urge to continue talking with this woman. She wanted to know her story. She wanted to know her.
“What do you do? For work, I mean,” Vi asked, and the woman’s deep blue eyes flickered upwards to meet hers for a moment. She could tell the woman was a little hesitant to answer, and probably didn’t plan on talking to anyone tonight, but she took another sip of her drink and set the glass down reluctantly before answering.
“I’m a lawyer,” she replied. “I work at my parents’ firm. It’s…not exactly what I envisioned, but it definitely pays the bills.”
“I’m sure it does.” Vi raised an eyebrow. So this woman had to be well off… what was she doing at a low-light, run-down bar like this? “What firm? Maybe I’ve heard of it.”
“Kiramman Law,” The woman answered, her voice trailing off. “It’s been in my family for generations. My father… he runs the business. He’s very… traditional,” she added.
“Ah,” Vi nodded. She hadn’t heard of the firm, but then again, she hadn’t heard of any law firms in New York City; she was really just wanting to pry more information out of this woman. “Traditional, huh? In what ways?”
The woman sighed as she swirled the drink in front of her. “Traditional as in old-fashioned, I suppose? He expects me to follow this stupid plan he has set out for me—marry a good man by twenty-five, buy a nice house, have kids by thirty, the white picket fence, et cetera.” She met Vi’s slightly horrified gaze and scoffed weakly. “Not exactly the life I envisioned, you know? But I guess it’s the one I’ve always expected.”
Vi leaned in, resting her forearms on the counter. “And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Follow the plan.”
The woman’s eyes drifted to her glass. Her thumb traced the rim like it might draw a different answer out of her. “I tried,” she admitted. “God, I really tried. I spent my whole life trying to impress them. I was the golden child. Straight A student. Ivy League. Law school. Married at twenty-two. And I even gave them a granddaughter before thirty.”
Vi tilted her head. “Sounds like you checked all the boxes.”
A bitter smile touched the woman’s lips. “I did. Except for the husband part. Turns out, I’m not particularly fond of men.”
Vi chuckled under her breath. “Well, that does complicate the whole white-picket-fence dream.”
“Tell me about it,” The woman muttered. “When I came out to them—right before I left for Columbia—they were furious. Said I was throwing everything away. That I was confused or going through a phase. That I was selfish.”
Vi’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t interrupt. She knew that tone—tired, defensive, still bleeding even after years.
“They didn’t disown me. That would’ve been easier, honestly,” The woman went on. “Instead, they just… recalculated. Like, okay, you’re gay. Fine. But marry the right kind of woman. Keep the family name respectable. Have a child. Make it look good. And I did. For years, I did. I had everything they wanted me to have.”
She finally looked up again, her gaze meeting Vi’s, sharp and haunted. “What’s your name, mystery woman?” Vi asked, eyes narrowed slightly.
“Caitlyn. Caitlyn Kiramman.”
“Well, Caitlyn Kiramman, my name is Vi. Do you want to hear something pathetic?”
Caitlyn arched a brow playfully. “Sure.”
“I used to think growing up with no plan was the worst thing in the world. Now I’m sitting here listening to you and thinking maybe I dodged a bullet.”
That drew a real laugh from Caitlyn. It was small, but warm. Vi took it as a win.
“I didn’t have parents breathing down my neck,” Vi went on. “Didn’t have parents at all, actually. Just me and my sister, Powder. We were in and out of foster homes more times than I can count. I was always the one looking out for her. Making sure she didn’t get in trouble, didn’t get hurt.”
Caitlyn’s face softened, and she listened without interruption.
“When I turned eighteen, the state kicked me out. A bag of my stuff and a ‘good luck.’ Had to leave Powder behind. That… that was the worst day of my life. I didn’t know where to go, so I ended up on the street and got into drinking. Fighting. Stupid stuff to make it all stop hurting.”
Her voice dropped, rougher now. “Then one night, I stumbled into this place. The Last Drop. Back then, it was just a spot I could get a drink without getting carded. But the owner, Vander—he saw through it. Said some people had been asking questions. He didn’t want trouble, but he didn’t want to call the cops on a kid, either. He gave me a deal: I could stay upstairs in the spare room of his apartment if I sobered up. So I did.”
Caitlyn blinked. “Just like that?”
Vi gave a lopsided grin. “Not quite. It was a slow crawl. A lot of dishwashing. A lot of yelling. But I did it. And when I turned twenty, he adopted me. Signed the papers like I was his own kid.” She shrugged. “He saved my life. No exaggeration.”
There was a pause between them—one of those rare silences that wasn’t awkward. Just heavy. Honest.
“Six years sober now,” Vi added. “I tried drinking again when I hit twenty-one. Didn’t like who I became. So I stopped for good a year later.”
Caitlyn nodded slowly, then raised her glass. “That’s…really impressive.” Another beat of silence passed between them before she spoke again. “I’m glad I came in here,” she said quietly.
Vi tilted her head. “Yeah?”
Caitlyn nodded. “I don’t know what I was looking for. But this surely wasn’t it. And somehow, it’s better.”
Vi gave a small, crooked smile. “Well, I’m flattered. Not many people walk in here and call it better.”
Caitlyn’s lips twitched. “Don’t get used to it.”
Vi chuckled, then rested her elbow on the bar, chin in hand. “So. You said you had everything your parents wanted. Past tense.”
Caitlyn’s eyes flicked to her drink again. This time, when she picked it up, she took a longer sip. “I got divorced three months ago.”
Vi blinked. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” Caitlyn let the word sit there. She stared down at the amber liquid like she could still see the ring on her finger. “Her name was Lola. We met during undergrad—she was pre-med, I was pre-law… it was perfect. She was bold. Loud. The kind of person who always knew what she stood for.”
Vi raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like the opposite of your parents’ idea of respectable.”
Caitlyn actually laughed at that—low, dry. “Exactly. They couldn’t stand her. Which, of course, made me fall harder. She was… god, she was magnetic. I think I mistook resistance for passion back then. Like, the harder we had to fight for each other, the more it felt like it mattered.”
Vi nodded, listening closely, her expression unreadable.
“We got married right after graduation. She wanted to wait, but I was impatient. Or maybe I just wanted to prove something—to my parents, mostly.” She let out a soft huff. “It felt like winning, back then. Like I was showing them I could do it all and still be myself.”
“Did they come to the wedding?”
Caitlyn’s laugh was short and humorless. “Oh, they were there. Drinks, smiles, speeches. My father even gave a toast. Told everyone how ‘proud’ he was. Then pulled me aside afterward and asked if we’d be taking each other’s names. Said hyphenating was more palatable.”
Vi grimaced. “Wow.”
“Yeah.” Caitlyn glanced down at her now near-empty drink. “Lola wanted to elope. I should’ve listened to her.”
“You stayed together for a while, though,” Vi said gently, like she wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.
“Eight years,” Caitlyn confirmed. “We had our daughter—Lavender—four and a half years in. I carried her.” The slightest smile crossed her lips, small and reverent. “She’s… the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Three years old. Smart. Curious. Calls me ‘Mommy’ and Lola ‘Mama.’ She loves trucks and glitter and dinosaurs and demands we read Goodnight Moon every night, even though she has the whole thing memorized.”
Vi’s expression softened. “Sounds like a badass kid.”
“She is.” Caitlyn looked away for a second, as if saying it made her chest too tight. “But somewhere along the line, Lola and I just… stopped being on the same page. Or maybe we never were, and we were too stubborn to notice.”
Vi didn’t press. Just let the silence do the asking.
“She moved out three months ago,” Caitlyn said quietly. “We filed the paperwork a few weeks later. She agreed to share custody and take Lavender on the weekends, since her work schedule during the week isn’t reliable as a doctor. She moved to some upscale apartment in Midtown. I stayed in our house, where everything feels especially quiet on weekends.”
Vi nodded slowly. She understood silence. Understood how it could press against your ribs some nights, like it was trying to crush you. “Quiet can be loud as hell when you’ve got nothing to fill it with,” Vi said.
Caitlyn looked at her, really looked at her, like she hadn’t expected someone in a muscle tee behind a bar to say something that made sense.
Vi tilted her head, another question coming to mind. “Do your parents know?”
Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a line. “No. I haven’t told them yet.”
Vi let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
“They already think I’ve ruined everything. No reason to confirm it,” Caitlyn muttered, draining the rest of her drink. Her fingers hovered over the glass after she set it down, like she was trying to decide whether to ask for another or walk out the door and never come back.
“Hey.” Vi’s voice was calm, a little softer than before. “You didn’t ruin anything. Sounds to me like you’re finally doing something for yourself.”
Caitlyn looked up, eyes glassy but clear. “That’s the problem,” she said. “I don’t even know who that self is.” Vi was about to respond when Vander popped his head out of the back room and told her it was almost eleven.
“Ah, shit. My shift is over.” Vi said, taking Caitlyn’s empty glass and setting it aside to be washed by her coworker.
“Oh, right,” Caitlyn said softly, but Vi didn’t miss what appeared to be a flash of disappointment cross the woman’s face. Vi shifted on her feet for a minute, unsure of what to do with herself.
She rubbed the back of her neck, glancing at Caitlyn, then toward the stairs tucked behind the bar that led up to her apartment. “Listen…” she began, then stopped, licking her lips like she was choosing her next words carefully. “I, uh, mentioned before… I live just above the bar.”
Caitlyn raised a brow, though there was no judgment in it. Just curiosity. “Convenient.”
Vi let out a short laugh. “Yeah, well, perks of being adopted by the boss.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Anyway. I was just thinking, if you don’t want to go home yet…” Her voice trailed off, nerves creeping in around the edges, but she kept her gaze steady. “You could come up for a bit. Warm up. Talk more. Or not talk.”
Caitlyn blinked, her lips parting slightly like she hadn’t expected the offer. And maybe she hadn’t.
A pause. A beat. A moment where everything could’ve tilted either way. Then she nodded once.
“Okay.”
Vi didn’t smile, not fully. But something eased in her shoulders. She reached over to grab her coat from the hook near the register, motioned for her coworker to take over, and then led Caitlyn to the stairs.
They didn’t speak as they climbed, the sounds of the bar fading behind them. The stairwell was narrow and creaked under their feet, and Vi's heart beat a little faster with each step, though she couldn’t tell if it was nerves or anticipation.
Vi opened the apartment door, letting Caitlyn step in first. It was small—two-bedroom, mismatched furniture, a threadbare couch, soft lighting. Lived-in. Comfortable. Caitlyn turned as if she was going to say something polite, but the words never made it out.
Vi had barely closed the door behind them before her hand slipped around Caitlyn’s waist, the other resting lightly on her cheek as she leaned in. Their eyes met for the briefest moment—enough time for Caitlyn to say no, if she wanted to.
She didn’t.
Vi kissed her, soft at first, tentative. Testing.
Caitlyn responded before she could think twice, her fingers fisting gently in the hem of Vi’s worn T-shirt. The kiss deepened, all heat and hunger now, and Caitlyn’s back hit the door with a dull thud as she was pinned between it and Vi’s body.
When the kiss broke, their gazes met for a moment. Vi’s heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and excitement, her breathing shallow.
“You’re not wasting any time…” Caitlyn said breathlessly.
“Should I be?” Vi asked as she scanned the taller woman’s face.
Caitlyn’s breath hitched as Vi’s gaze roamed over her face. She shook her head, her slender fingers trailing from Vi’s shoulders up to the line of her jaw. “No, no, you shouldn’t.” she swallowed, her voice a little shaky. “I don’t want you to.”
“Okay, yeah,” Vi nodded, leaning in to capture the woman’s lips in another eager kiss.
***