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Home? Wait… did my brain just say “home”? I walked around my apartment, observing that there were little bits of Ryan in every room. All his clothing was stowed away in my bedroom, pants from yesterday laying on my chair, his expensive watch and cufflinks were on my dresser next to his bottle of cologne, a new script and a book were setting out on the coffee table, and his toothbrush was hanging in the bathroom next to mine.
Blending my life with his seemed so effortless. I tried to recall how and when it all happened.
It was almost four o’clock – time to turn the bar lights on and open for business. I was comforted knowing that Cory would be here soon. I turned the television on for background noise and adjusted my business hours sign to reflect the new opening time.
I had expected to see Cory as the first person through my door, but instead a few female patrons came in - no doubt here to see sights of Ryan Christensen. The three girls sat down at the bar; they looked quite young.
“Good evening, ladies,” I greeted them. “What can I get you?”
One of them was sort of glaring at me; I didn’t care for the vibe she was emanating.
“I’ll have a rum and coke,” she stated.
“Sure. May I see some identification first, please?” I asked politely. If you’re not twenty-one you’re not staying.
One of them was barely twenty-one and the other two were only twenty-two years old; none of them were from Rhode Island. All three of the girls were from Massachusetts, which was a forty minute drive from here just to the border.
I was so relieved to see Cory walk through the door that I couldn’t suppress my smile. One of the girls whipped her head around to see who I was smiling at.
“Hey boss. Sorry I’m a few minutes late,” Cory apologized. In actuality he was only four minutes late. Certainly not a big deal, especially since I had changed his schedule from part-time to almost full-time.
“No worries, Cory. I’m just happy you could work.” I patted him on his shoulder. Secretly I was thanking my lucky stars that I wasn’t working alone.
“Limes?” Cory asked, looking around. I hadn’t cut any yet.
“I’ll go get some,” I said cheerfully, trotting back to the kitchen.
I had several limes and lemons in my hand when I came through the kitchen door. At that very moment, curly-haired, gap-toothed girl walked through the front door of my pub. I sucked in a quick breath from the shock, almost dumping my arm-full of fruit on the floor. I scurried behind the bar, getting as close to Cory and my baseball bat as I possibly could.
I knew her name was Angel, but she was turning out to be more like the devil in my book. She looked around the inside of the pub before hesitantly making her way to the far end of the bar. I was glad she sat at the opposite end from where the kitchen would be visible from the long bar.
Ryan would be coming through the back door eventually.
She reached into her little clutch purse and I felt the adrenaline start to release into my bloodstream. This girl absolutely terrified me; there was no way of knowing what she had hidden in that purse. I kept some distance between us until I could be sure of what she was up to. Eventually she placed some money on the bar and folded her hands on top of it.
Slowly I made my approach. “Good Evening. What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a whiskey sour,” she whispered. It was weird; she never made eye contact.
“May I see some ID please?” I wanted to know who she was and where she came from.
She reached back into that ominous little bag of hers and pulled out a small wallet. Her fingers fumbled for her driver’s license.
ANGELICA STAUNTON, DOB 2/17/1978
943 S. BRIDGE ST, Apt 12C
BROOKLYN, Ny She was thirty-one years old and a long way from home. Now I at least had more information to give to Tammy’s brother. I hoped I could get him to do a background search on this whacko.
I made the drink that she requested and tried to be as cordial as possible when I set it in front of her. I purposely mixed her drink light; no sense fueling her psychosis with extra alcohol.
Marie came in at five to start her shift. She made a face when she saw that most of the patrons in the pub were female. Cory was already trying to charm three of the girls at the bar. They seemed to like him too. Cory was a good-looking guy - tall, well-kept, nice arms, and a flirtatious smile. I hoped he was a good distraction.
Marie held her purse up in the air and shook her keys, indicating she was going to lock up her belongings in the office. I completely understood her reasons; the bar was starting to look like the setting for a Stalkers Anonymous meeting. Sure enough, about a dozen or so young girls came into the bar. The trail of tramps didn’t end. All of the fans that were waiting outside were now inside my pub.
