It was Thursday night--Ladies Night--in every drinking establishment in town. My friend and I were getting a head start on the weekend. We buffed and puffed and hopped in her black Camaro to 'hit the town'. We were facing a conundrum; if you arrived at the club too early, you looked desperate. If you arrived too late, you stood.
It was 10:00 pm and the band at The Oregon Museum Bar was starting their second set. When we walked in the door, there were open seats at the bar and a few tables but my friend was on the prowl. She had her eyes set on one particular young man and was determined to reel him into her net.
At approximately 10:20, she gave me the signal we used for Let's get the heck out of here and we left the bar. In the car heading to the next stop a couple miles away, we heard the news of the most horrific event to happen in the history of Salem in several years. Not more than fifteen minutes after we left, a lone shooter had entered The Oregon Museum Bar and opened fire with a 9mm. He shot into the crowd until he'd expended all his bullets then stepped outside, reloaded and rushed into the bar again, firing wildly. At the end of his rampage, three lay dead, nineteen were wounded and one died on the way to the hospital.
Had my friend not been on a mission, we may have lay among the wounded or dead. For nearly thirty years, I carried around survivor's guilt. So... to chase away some demons and acknowledge to the survivors that someone did remember their ordeal, I wrote Shattered Tomorrows. It is a novel so the story isn't exact but many of the happenings in the story closely follow the events of that action.
Excerpt from Shattered Tomorrows
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”, and 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 3 am. The DJ waved as she left on the arm of her third conquest that week. They were a striking pair, both over 6’ 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.
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