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Are they happy? Did they make the right choices for themselves? Are they like me, alone and dejected?
The questions circle through my mind so long that the wait for my flight comes to an end, and everyone in the terminal starts loading the plane.
* * *
I’m so emotionallyexhausted and yet I can’t bring myself to go back to my apartment after the drive from the airport to San Jose. I think over the places I can go, but they are so limited. It’s after ten p.m. so that leaves out restaurants and stores other than gas stations and maybe some bars.
I could really use a drink after last night and that was a really long flight, too.
After turning onto West Road, I notice a parking lot full of cars, trucks, and motorcycles, music is blaring out the open windows of a building and the steel door is swinging open and closed. There doesn’t seem to be a sign, but based on the scent I pick up as soon as I turn into the parking lot, it is most definitely a bar.
Alcohol, cigarettes, and something that smells similar to a skunk. Is that pot?
As soon as I park the car, raindrops pelt down on the windshield and I groan. Well, there goes my hair being straight. It will be a puff ball of curls by the time I reach the front door, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
It’s not like I’m looking to impress anyone. I’m just going to have a drink then go home. Okay, maybe two drinks. I just want to forget everything. Is that a crime?
I climb out of my car with my bag in my hand and hurry to the overhang, allowing shelter from the rain.
“Are you lost, darling?” I look up to find a shadowy figure with a hood pulled over his head. “This is the last place a pretty thing like you should be,” he mutters before pulling down his hood. A deep red scar cuts through his eyebrow, halfway down his cheek, and his jaw is hidden by dark brown scruff. Hazel eyes and a grease smeared face greet me as a cigarette hangs from his lips, his hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie with a black leather vest over it.
“Thanks for the advice, but I’ve got this, Sunshine,” I say, my head held high, before yanking that stubborn steel door wide open and leaving that creeper all alone.
What was that even about? Was he just trying to scare me? Well, he’ll have to try a lot harder than that. It’s not like I’m looking for trouble. I just want a drink.
I expected this to be a regular bar, one like a million others I’ve been to before, but I don’t see a bunch of college students dancing around or a DJ in the corner. What I find leaves me with the feeling that I’ve stepped into an alternate dimension.
Busted up tables, peeled linoleum floors, and aged yellow walls hint to how old this bar is, but the people filling it make me wonder if this is a bar or is meant to be a strip club. Girls dressed provocatively and men dressed up in denim and leather like it's going out of style, much like the creeper outside.
Strange.
Still, I’m a woman on the mission of a beer. Maybe a gin at this point.
I walk right over to the bar, empty except for the pretty bartender cleaning a glass, before taking a seat on the relatively new stool.
“Hey, girlie. Are you sure you’re in the right place? I’ve never seen you here before,” she assesses, looking me over like I am the strangest thing she has ever seen.
“No, I’ve never been here before. I just really need a stiff drink before I pull my hair out.” I puff out my bottom lip for added measure, hoping this nice bartender will take pity on me and stop asking questions.
She laughs. “Alright, girlie. You’ll want to drink fast though. The guys around here are the sorts you don’t want to be involved with. Trust me on that.” I tell her my order and she slides me a short glass of gin and Sprite over ice. “Tell me your name, girlie.”
“Laura.”
She smiles. “Nice to meet you, Laura. I’m Davina Devereaux.”
Davina really is nice. With her deep-set wrinkles around her eyes, which are violet in color, and snow blonde hair in a knot on her head, she vaguely reminds me of my mom. From her appearance to the kindness in her eyes, her sweetness makes me want to stay and tell her my life story.
As I take another sip of my drink, the steel door opens again and the creeper himself steps inside, his eyes landing directly on me.
Maybe he’s not really a creeper, but no one should ever be that ominous or suspicious, even if he is ridiculously handsome in a bad boy type of way.
His eyes find mine and my stomach tenses from how his hard eyes soften. He starts to head in my direction, almost like I’m his destination before…
“Davina.” I nearly jump when a deep voice comes out of nowhere and the look on Davina’s face is one that makes the blood in my veins run cold.
Whoever the voice belongs to is bad news.
“Browning, this is Laura. She isjustpassing through.” The man steps out from behind me and him and Davina engage in a silent battle of wills before she looks away. “I’ll get you a beer.”
