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Cliff Hanger from Shattered Tomorrows by C.L. Kraemer
Six
“As I said, I started working at
Heaven in 1979. It was the place to be. There were nights it was so busy they
kept the lobby on the ground floor full with people waiting to be allowed
inside. I was young, thin, pretty and smart enough to use it to my advantage.
“Around the
middle of July, I started noticing this muscular, tanned god coming in on
Wednesday nights. The bar had something going almost every night of the week
and Wednesdays were ‘Boys Night Out.’ Management had dropped the price of drinks
by a dollar and knew if the guys wandered in, the girls would follow.
“Gregg started sitting at my end
of the bar.”
Cassie raised
an eyebrow. “Gregg?”
I nodded.
“Gregg Halstrom. We started talking casually at first and I learned he was also
a bartender. His days off were Tuesday and Wednesday. At the time mine were
Monday and Tuesday.
“He was
gorgeous; no doubt about it, but underneath the good looks was education and
kindness.”
Cassie watched as I drifted away.
~ * ~
“Hey beautiful.”
I turned sideways
to the counter and held up a finger. Swiping the credit card through the
machine, I entered the bill amount. I finished totaling everything on the
charge slip and grabbed a pen. Sliding charge slip and pen under the Senator’s
hand, I waited until he signed. I detached his copy and glanced at the bottom
line. A smile crossed my face.
Senator
Anderson loved his per diem account. We all
benefited from his per diem account. I took the twenty dollar bill from the
register and turned to blow a kiss the Senator’s direction.
“Hey,
beautiful. How about a Gregg driver?”
Even over the
thumping of the speakers, I knew that voice.
“One Gregg
driver coming up.”
A Gregg
driver--our inside shared secret. Gregg had alcohol issues. A father who beat
him senseless every other weekend to ‘man
you up’, and a mother who brought home new friends on the weekends Gregg’s dad was out of town had quickly
cured him about the coolness of getting drunk.
It had taken a
couple months of trust building to get past the glib, smarmy answers he usually
gave and get to the truth. He trusted I would never tell a soul, and I wasn’t
about to blow that trust.
I pulled out a
chimney glass, filled it with ice cubes and proceeded to pull a blue-labeled
Vodka brand bottle from under the well. Seen only to me was a black X on the
label indicating the alcohol free water inside. Flourishing the bottle, I
poured a shot and a half of the clear liquid into the glass. I finished by
adding orange juice, and popping in a long straw.
Placing the
completed drink before him, I waited for him to take a sip and give me the
thumbs up.
He took a sip
and smiled as he flashed his upturned thumb my direction. “Perfect again,
beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“Say when are
we…”
About the time
he started to ask me a question, some blonde bombshell in a very tight lycra
skirt up to her… well, you get the idea, draped herself all over Gregg’s
shoulders.
“Hello,
handsome.”
“Hello,
Misty.”
Gregg’s
monotone response didn’t phase her one bit.
She oozed
around the barstool and wedged herself between his legs.
“When are we
going to dinner?” She leaned over to give him the benefit of a full shot of her
cleavage.
I was busy
making drinks for the waitresses beginning to jam up at the station on my end
of the bar but was able to hear the conversation. I wasn’t listening, really I
wasn’t.
The blonde
leaned in and whispered in Gregg’s ear.
I watched as
his face crimsoned in the dim lighting.
He placed his
hands on her waist and guided her to the side of his barstool.
“How many
times do I need to tell you, Misty? I don’t date customers.”
I watched the
glow of lust fan into a raging fire of anger in her eyes.
“Well, you
won’t find anything better, that’s for sure.” She turned and stomped back to
her table.
I glanced out
of the corner of my eye as she poured out her tale to the two girls sitting
with her. After much consoling and sending of dirty looks Gregg’s direction,
the trio picked up their purses and left.
Gregg leaned
against the barstool back, pushing an exasperated breath through his lips.
“Man, they are
like sharks on a blood trail.” He ran long, slender fingers through his dark
locks.
“Sorry, luv,
but with girls like Misty, kindness will always be mistaken for lust. It’s a
game the locals play of bartender-notching. She figures if you give in to her
obvious charms…”
“Obvious.” He
rolled his eyes.
I shot a glare
his direction. He rewarded me with a grin that featured the dimple in his right
cheek.
"As I was
saying… once you have partaken of her indescribable delights, you’ll fall madly
in love with her, give her all her drinks for free then marry her and buy her a
big house in South Salem.”
Gregg arched
an eyebrow.
I filled a
couple dozen drink orders. When there was a lull and the disc jockey had
decided to slow the pace down, he motioned me over to him.
I pulled a
glass out and made another Gregg driver, which I took and placed in front of
him.
“On me.”
He quirked a
lopsided smile my direction.
“I wish.”
“I thought you
didn’t date customers.
“You’re not a
…”
He stopped at
the look I was shooting him.
“What do you call me coming to
your bar and listening to music?”
“Well, that’s
different.”
“How, Gregg?”
“Well, you’re
a bartender.”
I smirked. I
loved watching him wriggle under the scrutiny.
“It’s different
because you’re a fellow professional.”
“Great. Now
you’re calling me a guy.”
“Ah…ah…ah…”
I couldn’t keep up the charade
and broke out laughing. I could see color flushing his face. He gave up and
started laughing along with me. While we giggled, I spied a familiar shuffle
and was enveloped by the accompanying sickly sweet cloud of cologne.
I knew this
customer dubbed--the Strange One--by
my coworkers for his unusual obsession, and grabbed a long neck beer for him. I
took the bottle to the bar where I opened it in front of him then handed it to
him.
The blocky,
sandy-haired young man nodded at me.
“Lucy.”
“Richard. How
are you today?”
“I’m fine,
thank you. It’s been a productive day. I gathered enough cans to have two beers
tonight.”
“That’s
terrific, Richard. Would you excuse me? I see I have some orders to fill.”
“That would be
fine, Lucy. See you in a while?”
“For certain,
Richard.”
Moving to my
workstation, I noted his usually stringy hair was neatly combed and tucked
behind his ears. I wasn’t sure what color his eyes were but in the dark of the
bar, they appeared to be light. Clean new slacks and a shirt with a bit of
style replaced his disheveled clothing.
My
observations were cut short by a flurry of drink orders and the throbbing of
music punctuated with the spinning lights from the disco floor. The mirrored
disco ball flashed in my face and I felt sweat created by the overabundance of
bodies and cigarette smoke in the room meandering its way down my chest. An
hour and, who knows how many drinks later, I pulled Willow aside.
“I need a
break.”
She quickly
completed a visual survey of the room and its occupants.
“Got it
handled.”
“Richard…”
“Oh, no. The
Strange One is here?”
“Yes. If he
starts asking for me…”
I glanced past
her and noted he was staring at the dance floor--the opposite of where I was
standing.
“… tell him
I’ve gone to the bathroom. That should keep him from flipping out.”
Willow looked
his direction and shivered.
“It would give
me the creeps if he liked me. How do you handle it?”
I looked past
her to the solitary figure clutching the brown bottle and tracking dancers with
his eyes. Still distracted--good.
I moved past
her, using her body as a shield. “With kid gloves. Back in twenty.”
Bolting to the
end of the bar and flipping up the counter, I indicated Gregg should follow me
with minimal motion of my forefinger.
He lifted his
brows and drink. With a barely perceptible nod, I motioned him to bring the
glass along.
We slipped
around the corner to a narrow hallway leading to a locked door. Using my
passkey, I opened the passageway leading to the kitchen of the adjoining
restaurant. The night chef raised a knife in acknowledgement as he diced
parsley. I fixed a soda and led Gregg to an empty table overlooking the Capitol
rotunda.
“How in the
world did you convince that crazy guy to take an open beer from you?”
“What do you
mean?” Richard was not who I wanted to talk about.
“How did you
get him to take an open beer from you?”
“Gregg, you’re
repeating yourself. Richard’s always taken opened beers from me. I’m sure he
does it with everyone. Just ask Willow.”
Gregg
vigorously shook his head. “No. I’ve worked behind the bar in two or three
clubs around town and I’ve never seen the Strange One accept an opened container.
“Most of us
have learned to open the cooler, let him watch us pick a bottle, get his
approval on the choice then hand him the opener so he can open his own bottle.
He won’t drink otherwise.”
I realized as I was looking at
him my jaw was hanging open.
“You’re
joking, right?”
“No. He thinks somebody’s trying
to poison him.”
“He’s never
had a problem with me opening his beer bottle.”
“And he talks
to you.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Most of the
rest of us get grunts or head nods. Must be he likes you.”
Gregg let a
smirk slide across his lips.
“Now I know
you’re exaggerating. I just treat Richard like a human being and he appreciates
it, that’s all. Anyway, I didn’t take a break to talk about him. I took a break
so we could talk… quietly.”
I gazed into those
beautiful eyes ringed in black lashes.
Gregg slid his
hand across the table and pulled mine into his clutch.
“Listen, Lucy.
We’ve been tap dancing around the obvious. Will you have dinner with me? We’re
both off tomorrow. I could pick you up around noon and we could drive to the
coast. That way, no one would see us?”
I had to
smile. In one sentence, he had covered all my objections.
“Okay. Have
you something to write with so I can jot down my address? Pen, pencil, blood?”
He retrieved a
pen and small tablet from inside his jacket pocket, which he slid across the
tabletop to me.
I wrote my
address and phone number in the notebook.
“Absolutely,
positively do not give this to
anyone. I jealously guard my privacy. I don’t want every gonna-make-you-a-star creep calling me.”
He pulled the
tablet to him and snapped the pen closed.
“Not a chance.
I’ve waited three months to get this number. I have no intentions of sharing it
with anyone.” He patted his pocket. “I’ll see you at eleven.”
He winked and
smirked into his drink.
Glancing at my
watch, I realized I was reaching the end of my break.
“As much as
I’d love to spend the next four hours right here… I have to go back--alone--and
try to avoid Richard.”
Gregg rose
from the table. “How about I visit the boys’ room? That should give you enough
time…”
The chef
bustled up to the table, bearing a silver platter inside a wooden holder;
sizzling slices of tantalizing beef wafting a cloud of peppered deliciousness.
“Lucy, I know you’re on break but I’ve tried several times to get the attention
of somebody out there to pick up these steak fingers. Would you take them back
to the bar? Thanks.”
I grabbed the
platter with potholders and moved toward the bar. Gregg followed me as far as
the hallway where he split and headed to the men’s room.
When I entered
the cacophony of lights and sound, I stopped. A quick straightening of my
shoulders and pasting of a smile on my face put me back in the working mode.
Carrying the platter to the waitress station, I caught Willow’s attention with
a lift of my eyebrow.
She maneuvered
a quick eye roll and mouthed, Don
Knight’s, over the noise.
I sucked in a
deep breath. Great, Mr. Hands.
Notorious for his ability to have his hands in more places than a teenage
octopus, Don Knight was not a popular customer despite his overly large tipping
habit.
I ferried the
platter to Don’s table where he sat next to a blonde sporting large hair, large
blue eyes, large platform heels and… other large attributes.
“Lucy, babe…”
I cringed at
the over familiar use of my name.
“Don, steak
fingers with fries and barbeque sauce. That’ll be $7.95.”
I placed the
platter on the table and stood, hands on hips.
“Babe…” Don
grinned and slid his hand toward my butt. “Sit and talk. Bobbi here is great to
look at but not much on conversation. Right, doll?”
The blonde
shrugged her shoulders, her attention never leaving the dance floor.
I grabbed the
hand residing on my posterior and placed it on the table.
“Don, I’m
working. Just pay me so I can get to my other customers.”
His hand
inched toward me. I put my fingers on Don’s moving appendage effectively
stopping the motion. I leaned over, watching his gaze drop from my own and come
to rest on my exposed cleavage. Leaning close to him, I put my body weight on
the hand beneath mine.
The lascivious expression melted
into a painful grimace.
“If…” I
dropped the volume of my voice causing him to lean closer, the movement created
excruciating pressure on his trapped digits. The grimace pulled his mouth down
at the edges creeping to his eyes.
“… if you
create a scene, I’ll guarantee you will be 86’d from this establishment for
life. Are we clear?”
Nodding his
head furiously, Don jerked his hand from the tabletop the moment I straightened
and released it.
Reaching into
the pocket of a pair of ironed jeans that sported a razor sharp crease, he
extracted a faux alligator wallet. Maneuvering with his undamaged extremity, he
fumbled to pull out a twenty dollar bill which he handed to me.
“Keep the
change.”
I snatched the
bill from his hand. With my back to Don, I flashed Willow a huge smile.
Surveying the
patrons seated at the bar, I noted Gregg was not among them.
Willow waved
an arm grabbing my attention. At the end of her shapely limb, clutched in her
slender fingers, was a piece of paper.
I worked my way behind the bar
and snatched the folded note from her fingertips.
“Lucy,
Gonna call it a night. Big plans for tomorrow. See you at
eleven. I’ll bring breakfast.”
G.”
Goose bumps
rose on my arms and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Someone was
watching me. Looking up, I found Willow, left eyebrow quirked, peering my
direction.
“Well?” she
mouthed over the roar of music and dancers.
The DJ was
pumping up the crowd by playing back-to-back Earth, Wind and Fire tunes. The din was deafening.
I tilted my
head and let a smile play over my lips. Let
her stew. I turned to step from behind the bar and pick up empty glasses
around the room.
There he
stood, immobile and staring directly at me.
I jumped.
“Richard, you,
uh, gave me a start. Are you okay? Need anything?”
“Where were
you?” He stared unblinking into my eyes.
“Beg pardon?”
“Where… were…
you?” His mouth was an angry slash across his face. I watched a muscle in his
jaw line flex and relax alternately.
Pulling myself
to my full 5’3”, if you count heels 5’6”, I glared at him.
“It’s really
none of your business.”
Violent
emotions crossed his face, causing me to rethink my answer. He settled on
disgust.
“I was
worried. You know how dangerous this building can be.”
His veiled
reference to several recently reported rapes in the building’s stairwells gave
me pause. I hadn’t considered the idea. Softening my ire, I answered him.
“I was in the
restroom.”
He huffed
disbelief and walked away from the bar.
I whipped
around to stare at Willow.
The DJ had
opted to cool the fury of the dancers with a slow song. I wasn’t sure if the
music was cooling them down or heating up their hormones.
“Willow!”
The sharpness
of my tone stopped her movement behind the bar and she looked up at me.
“What!?”
“How long
was…” I turned and surveyed the area around me then faced her “…the Strange One
hovering?”
She shrugged
away impatience. “Long enough to see you leave with Gregg.”
“Damn! I don’t
need him trying to save me.”
I charged out
to the floor and gathered all the empty bottles and glasses I could carry on my
tray. I’d become so caught up in the order and serve routine, I stopped in my
tracks when I heard the DJ announce last call.
Fifteen minutes
of pandemonium followed with patrons determined to get one last drink.
Once the
lights were turned up, there was the inevitable scurrying for hook-ups; no one
wanted to go home alone. I plowed through the drunk and nearly drunk bodies
trying to get a head start on clean up. If Willow and I worked together, we
could be walking out the door around three a.m. The DJ waved as she left on the
arm of her third conquest that week. They were a striking pair, both over six
feet tall, dark and tanned.
We chased the last customer from
the bar and locked the doors to count the money in the register and our tips.
“So…”
When Willow
started a sentence with so, I knew I
was in trouble.
“So, what?” I
ran a calculator tape of my drink tickets.
“Oh, don’t be
coy. It doesn’t suit you. What’s the story with Gregg?”
I held up a
finger as I finished totaling up my food tickets.
“What was your
question? I was busy working.”
Willow rolled her eyes and
flipped her hair over one shoulder.
“Lucy, anyone
who has eyes can see the flames roar when the two of you are together. Are you
going to start dating or what?”
I finished my
paperwork by putting my money and receipts together then dropping the bundle in
the bank bag, which I handed to Willow.
“Here. I’m
done. Could I get a daiquiri-on-the-rocks for my shift drink?”
“No.”
“What?” I
looked up from organizing my tips to find her shaking her head.
“Not until you
give me the story on you and Gregg.”
The glare
emanating from her eyes and crossed arms warned me I needed to give her details
or she would hold me down and apply fire to the soles of my feet.
I was too
tired to argue.
“Okay, okay.
We have our first date tomorrow…”
Her eyes lit
up. “That’s so cool.”
I sent her a
smoldering look.
“If anyone
breathes a word of this, I’ll hunt them down and string them up by their
thumbs. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Good. Let’s
go home.”
I gathered my
purse and slipped on my jacket as I headed to the time clock. Punching my time
card, I strolled down the hallway to the elevator lobby. Willow came puffing up
as the doors opened.
We caught up
on the evening’s activities and went opposite directions at the front door.
I had my keys
in hand as I marched to the space where my car was parked.
The spots
reserved for employees weren’t completely enclosed and the echo of my footsteps
gave me goose skin.
There had been
a recent rash of rapes and attempted rapes in and around the building. I was
highly aware of the rumors. I bent down and squinted my eyes to make sure my
key slid into the lock smoothly. The lights from the parking lot were supposed
to provide a sense of security, but, as usual, only one third of them were lit
and working. So much for security. I
turned my key and grabbed the door handle when I heard it--a footstep.
Straightening
up, I looked around. Mine was the only car in the garage.
Hearing things.
I grabbed the handle and pulled
it open. I bent to crawl in the driver’s side. That’s when things went
sideways.
I sucked in a
deep breath and let out a blood-curdling scream.
