“Hey, Hiroooshi, when are you gonna come home with me?” Alan leaned over the bar, a slightly inebriated smile plastered on his face.
“When you ask sometime you’re NOT just fighting with Stan.” Hiroshi reached out and tweaked Alan’s nose before holding out his hand. “Gimme the keys, and let me call a cab.” He paused. “Or Stan.” He saw the indecision on Alan’s face. “Let me call Stan.”
Alan sat back on his stool and nodded miserably, and Hiroshi gave him an encouraging smile. He reached behind the bar and pulled out the phone and his book of numbers. He punched in the number for Alan and Stan’s apartment and smiled when Stan answered, obviously hoping it was Alan. “Hey, Stan, it is Hiroshi. Alan is here and he has been kicking himself all night for whatever it is he did wrong.”
“Kicking himself?” Stan sounded interested.
“Yup. Moscow Mules all night. Why don’t you come down here and bring him home?”
There was a long pause over the line before Stan agreed and hung up. Hiroshi turned to Alan and gave him a thumbs up sign. “Stan is on his way.”
Alan immediately perked up and pulled a fist full of bills out of his wallet and pressed them into Hiroshi’s hand. “Yer a prince Hiroooshi.” He seemed to sober for a moment. “You should find a Stan of yer own.”
Ever the professional… when it suited him, Hiroshi didn’t even look at the money as he put it in his pocket. “You think so, Alan?” He gave his usual noncommittal answer before going down the bar and filling orders.