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“Aww… well, a girl can dream, can’t she?” She pouted at me before turning on her heel and sashaying back over to the bar to watch the game with Mike. No sooner had she turned away however than I started on my burger, biting into it with relish.
Holding it in my left hand, I used my right to fish my phone out of my pocket, along with Mr Ritter’s list. As I took my next bite, I started researching the next name on the list, but there wasn’t much to find. Just his shop’s website and social media pages, a few details about his college lectures. Nothing very informative, though his name was mentioned in reference to a civil war that had been going on in Africa. I made a mental note to double check that later.
I was just stashing the phone away in my pocket when the pub door opened, letting in a gust of cool autumn air fragrant with ocean salt. Quick footsteps hurried across the wooden floor to the bar, causing Mike to turn away from the screen. “You’re late.”
“Sorry!” the newcomer apologised hurriedly, shrugging off her raincoat and stowing it over the bar. “I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again.”
“That’s what you said last time, and yet here you are, late again. What’s the matter? Can’t you tell time? Your shift started half an hour ago and I-”
“Oh, leave her alone, Marcus. When was the last time you ever arrived on time?” Debra admonished. Surprised by her interruption, the bartender only gaped, looking as if he was struggling for what to say, before he just gave up and turned back to the tv, his mouth moving silently as he grumbled under his breath. Satisfied, Debra nodded before putting a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “You ok lovey?”
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to be late. It’s just my dad’s back is playing him up again, and he needed my help around the store, and time just got away from me.”
“Ahh well, ain’t you just a sweety. Don’t worry about it, sugar. Take it from me. So long as you make up your time at the end of your shift, no one will say a thing. We all got our own troubles, you know.” Debra shot Mike a look. “Ain’t that right, Marcus…”
Still chastened, the bartender just grunted in acknowledgement.
“See. Don’t worry about it.”
The other woman nodded. “Thanks.”
Debra was all smiles once more. “Don’t mention it. I’ve still got twenty minutes till the end of my shift. Why don’t you go get freshened up? I’ll man the fort,” she promised, turning away before a sudden thought struck her and nodded in the direction of the pool table. “Oh, watch yourself. The boys back there have been doing nothing but shooting pool and knocking back pints, so they’ll be getting pretty rowdy soon.”
I tried to focus on my meal but couldn’t help eavesdropping and found my eyes drawn to her as she passed my booth. She was young, scarcely into her twenties, barely more than a slip of a girl, but beautiful. A luscious dusky beauty with a firm mouth, strong cheekbones and thick dark mane of hair that tumbled down to the small of her back. She’d dressed smart but casually, in a simple black button up top that only hinted at athletic build and bosom, but alongside slender blue jeans that went down mile upon mile of long legs but always drew the eyes back up to the swells of her derriere.
Captivated by subtle movements of what must have been the most magnificent ass I had ever seen, my eyes remained riveted until she had slipped through the door to the game room. There was a shout of applause from within, and I had no choice but to return my attention to my burger. Yet I could only brood over the feast, my hunger diminished in favour of more carnal appetites as my head swam with thoughts of her walking by. I was going to have to make a point of finding out her name before I-
There was a raucous of laughter and a raspy voice slurred something as the girl came almost running out of the gaming room, head down and tying an apron around her waist. Behind her, a pair of tattoo sleeved arms threw the swinging doors back open before they could completely close in her wake. By my best guess, the man that followed was around my age, between late twenties and early to mid thirties, with a broad, powerful build that his tee and jeans were just tight enough to show off. Beneath his short-cropped hair, his forehead was shiny with perspiration and his squashed face was a flushed ruby colour. His eyes were glassy as he pursued the girl to the bar, yet he carried himself without sway or stumble.
Debra’s assessment had been quite accurate in all but one aspect. He wasn’t just well on his way to getting rowdy; he was on the road to an awesome bender, and he’d just found his next amusement of the afternoon.
He practically draped himself across the bar as she went behind it to don an apron branded with a carton whale stranded on a beach. “Come have a drink with us.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m already running late,” she said politely but with her back to him, trying to knot her apron’s ties.
“Aw come on now, don’t be like that,” he cooed, like she was a sulky child in need of placating.
At his back, his companions were filing out of the games room. There were four of them, all with the same ruby checks, and dark glints in their eyes, and as they joined him at the bar, I remembered an old animal documentary I’d watched once about a troop of baboons that had set upon and devoured a baby antelope. These boys had the same look, the same swagger, the same dark energy of beasts on the hunt, looking for trouble.
“Yeah, nobody’s gonna say nothin’,” one of them sneered, reaching out to stroke her arm. He was a broad-shouldered man with a heavily lined face and a thick salt and pepper goatee beard. She deftly sidestepped, but another one was already waiting to catch her, his fingers just brushing across her derriere as she passed. He leered at her smugly as she backed away, but there was nowhere to go. They had backed her up against the bar. Playing dumb to her distress, Mike kept his face riveted to the screen.
The little twat.
“See, nobody’s gonna care,” Tattoo Sleeves pressed again. “Come on, have a drink with us. Just a small one. You know you want to.”
“No, please, I’ve got work to do,” she refused again, still polite, but with a note to her voice now as she looked for some sort of escape.
Noticing my now half-empty glass, I gulped down the last of the soft drink then held it up high in the drunkard’s age-old call for a refill.
She saw my signal and nodded, but her distraction caused one baboon to look my way. It was the one that had touched her backside. A suety faced middle-aged guy that had tried to disguise his balding pate with a greasy top knot. Upon seeing me, his leer fell away to an almost accusing glare. He nudged the man beside him, who, in turn, looked, gawked, then nudged the man beside him. Soon, all five were glowering at me. It was like an absurd game of Monkey see, Monkey do. They obviously hadn’t realised they were no longer the only customers.
“Yeah, what do you want?” Topknot asked mockingly.
“A drink.” I just smiled back at them and shook my glass again. “Same again, love.”
“Coming right up, Sir,” the girl called, pouring me another glass of coke from the tap. However, no sooner had she stepped out and around the bar hatch, then she found her way blocked.
“Nah, never mind him, love,” Tattoo sleeves mocked, emitting my accent to ridiculous levels as he took the glass from her, knocked back a mouthful before spitting it back into the glass, then put it down on the nearest table. He looked back at me, grinned again as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “All yours.”
