Cliff Hanger Saturday: Just Like The Matinees of Old

Cliff Hanger Saturday is a place where you can post your favorite "cliff hangers" of all time or just good writing at the end of the scene. (if not your own work, please give credit to the author and the book.) We all know, a scene should not end with anyone going to sleep. YAWN. But sometimes we see this. If the characters go to sleep, so do we.

So share favorites or write one here.

I have been posting excerpts for advertising and Rogue Phoenix Press. If you are writing an excerpt for something make sure that excerpt ends making the reader turn the page and read on. Do we want the reader up all night? Of course we do!

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.