Stale Beer, Sweet Vengeance

The Rusty Mug was a blur of noise and stale beer tonight.

Game night, loud as ever.

I wiped down the bar, going through the motions, surrounded by the same faces, the same routine.

But the man behind the bar wasn't the same Jake anymore.

A sudden shriek split the air near the back restrooms-a woman' s voice, sharp and furious.

Whispers slithered through the crowd: "A teacher," "caught with another man."

My co-bartender, Mark Olsen, a grin twisting his face, looked directly at me.

With fake concern, he asked, "Hope it's not your Emily. She' s too sweet to be messing around, right?"

He didn't know I knew exactly who it was.

Nor did he know I' d already lived this agonizing chapter.

Last time, Chloe, his fiancée, caught red-handed, had played the victim, begging sympathetic Emily for help.

Kind, trusting Emily, rushed to her side.

Only for Chloe to throw her under the bus, fabricating texts, spinning vicious rumors.

The public shame, the loss of her job, broke Emily.

She killed herself.

Blinded by grief and rage, I confronted Mark, just before he shoved me down the back stairs.

I remembered the sickening crack, and then... nothing.

Until I woke up, months ago, back in this very life, this exact day now approaching.

My Emily, gone forever.

My own life, stolen.

Why? Why had they gone unpunished, while we paid the ultimate price?

This was my impossible second chance.

To save Emily.

To save myself.

And this time, they were going to regret every single unforgivable thing they had ever done.

The Rusty Mug was loud tonight, game night.

I wiped down the bar, the familiar scent of stale beer and cheap whiskey in the air.

This was my life, again.

Same bar, same job, same people.

But I wasn't the same Jake.

I knew what was coming.

A shout cut through the noise, near the back restrooms.

Heads turned.

Then another, angrier.

A woman' s voice, high and furious.

Mark Olsen, my co-bartender, grinned, wiping his hands on a dirty apron.

He was a snake, then and now.

"Sounds like someone's having a bad night," Mark said, loud enough for half the bar to hear.

He nudged Tina, a waitress who always hung around him.

"Wonder who it is."

The commotion grew, voices rising.

"They're saying it's some teacher," Tina chirped, eyes wide. "Caught with another man."

Mark' s grin widened. He looked straight at me.

"Hey Jake," he called out, voice dripping with fake concern. "You hear that? A teacher."

He paused, letting it sink in. My girlfriend, Emily, was a librarian, but close enough for Mark's poison.

"Hope it's not your Emily. She's a sweet girl. Too sweet to be messing around."

I kept polishing a glass, my movements steady.

I knew exactly who it was.

Not Emily.

It was Chloe Davis, Mark's fiancée.

"What would you do, Jake?" Mark pressed, enjoying himself. "If Emily cheated on you? Right here in our bar? Still marry her?"

I met his gaze, my face calm.

"Yeah, probably," I said, my voice even.

Mark scoffed. Tina giggled.

"People mess up," I continued. "It's not the end of the world."

Mark stared, surprised by my lack of reaction.

He expected anger, denial.

He didn't know I was living a nightmare he'd already written.

And this time, I was going to change the ending.

The sounds from the back got louder, closer.

A door slammed.

The show was about to begin.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out. Emily.

Her name on the screen sent a familiar chill down my spine, a ghost from a life I' d already lost.

"Jake?" Her voice was tight, panicked.

"Emily, what's wrong? Where are you?"

"I'm at The Mug, Jake. Near the back. Chloe called me. She was hysterical."

Chloe. Mark' s fiancée. Emily' s childhood friend.

"She said it was a nightmare situation, begged me to come help her."

Of course, she did.

The past slammed into me, sharp and brutal.

Last time, Chloe, caught red-handed, had done the same thing.

She' d cried to Emily, played the victim.

Emily, kind Emily, had rushed to help.

Then Chloe, to save her own skin, threw Emily under the bus.

Doctored texts. Vicious rumors.

She painted Emily as the cheater.

The public shame, losing her job at the library, it broke Emily.

She killed herself.

And when I found out the truth, when I confronted Mark, blind with grief and rage...

He was drunk. We were on the landing of the bar's back stairs.

He shoved me.

I remembered the fall, the crack. Then nothing.

Until I woke up, months ago, back in this life, this exact year, this exact day approaching.

A second chance.

To save Emily. To save myself.

To make them pay.

"Jake? Are you there?" Emily's voice pulled me back.

"Yeah, Em. I'm here. Listen to me very carefully."

But before I could say more, Mr. Henderson, the owner, stuck his head out of his office.

"Barnes! My office. Now."

Mark smirked from across the bar.

He thought this was about his earlier taunts, maybe me getting in trouble.

He had no idea.

I looked at my phone. "Emily, stay put for one second. Don't do anything. I'll call you right back."

I had to deal with Henderson first.

The promotion. That was another piece of this.

The head bartender spot. Mark wanted it. I wanted it.

Last time, the scandal Chloe created, framing Emily, ruined my chances.

Mark got the job.

Not this time.