I pulled out my phone, showing Nick the photo Esme had taken of me yesterday before swiping to the stealthy photo Esme had snapped ofBizarro Ariel.
“There is no fucking way you called her a cannibal.” Nick laughed as he sipped a clear liquid from a glass.Water or gin?A fun game I liked to play every once in a while.Gin, probably.When he placed it down to take my phone from me,I picked up the glass and sniffed before grimacing and putting it back on the bar counter. If I was a betting woman, I’d be feeling pretty smug, right about now.
“It was not one of my finest moments, but she was being kind of mean. And I’m telling you she must have gotten at least nine or ten pieces into her mouth in one go,” I said, nodding along as I recounted the story with wide eyes that said ‘Believe it, because it’s true.’
I kept the rest of what I had gotten up to that evening to myself. Nick was one of those superstitious people who didn’t like messing with anything to do with fate. To him, “bad vibes”were contagious, and Mercury being out of alignment could really fuck a person up. He threw salt over his shoulder, never stepped on pavement cracks or walked under ladders, and he absolutely hated that I left my apartment window open for a stray black cat that liked to come and go as he pleased. Whether it was Nick’s paranoia or the fact that he had watched one too many horror films, I wasn’t really sure, but for the sake of our working relationship, I thought it was best to keep the information to myself.
The rest of the night slipped by uneventfully. I’d spent most of the night wiping down tables and questioning how long it was hygienically acceptable to leave out lime wedges and maraschino cherries because, whilst I didn’t want anyone to getfood poisoning, I also didn’t want to get fired. And our boss, Orson, was as slimy and tight as they came. Not that he wouldactuallyfire me, given that he threatened to do it bi-weekly for whatever reason he had pulled out of his hat that week.
ButThe Bootmakerwas the epitome of disreputable. The bar itself was worn out; the wooden bar was scratched to within an inch of its life, and the splotches of beer and other liquids that stained the carpet and fabric of the barstools likely dated back to long before I was born. And whilst most people couldn’t think of a more unappealing place to work, I really didn’t mind it all that much.
Sexually charged shots aside, for the most part, the regulars were harmless. They sat and drank and nodded when I walked by with my cloth and antibacterial spray. They were rarely that forthcoming with personal information, which suited me fine because small talk really wasn’t my strong suit anyway. But over the last few weeks, there were several new faces that were working their way up to regular status. One in particular that I’d never seen in town before. One face that, over time, had me feeling ever so slightly unnerved.
He was a man of average height and medium build, a plain face with no distinguishable features sitting on his shoulders. He had a full beard,which was, in theory, supposed to make men hotter,but all this did was make him look dirty and unkempt. He and his loosely fitting navy pinstripe suit (I’d seen him almost trip over the hem of his trousers on two separate occasions) would always sit in the dimly lit part at the back of the bar. An area very few people ever sat unless they were doing something shady. Usually, something that involved illegal narcotics or women who were definitelynottheir wives.
After dotting around, picking up empty glasses of beer, and sweeping up empty nut shells, I made my way behind the bar, where Nick handed me an already opened bottle of beer.
“That guy’s here again,” I said matter-of-factly, once again trying to swallow the rising panic that lingered at the back of my mind. Too many girls had gone missing recently and something about him just had my whole body on edge. But Nick grinned down at me, gearing up to play the stupid game we liked to play on nights like this, where it was quiet enough to hear people’s inhibitions dissolving away in their drinks.
For regulars like Rusty and Clive, who had lived in Darling all their lives, we knew who they were, what they did, and where they lived. But for the less seasoned faces, we came up with stories about their lives to pass the time. But the only thing that signalled in my mind when I looked at the guy in the back of the bar was danger. Maybe it was gut instinct. Maybe it was intrusive thoughts and anxiety. Or maybe, just maybe, the guy was fucking weird.
“Yeah, he was in here yesterday, too, but he didn’t stay long. Probably about fifteen minutes. He just paid for his drink and then left it on the bar,” Nick mused before turning to Rusty and placing his third beer in front of him. “I’m cutting you off after this. I see your wife, Gladys, in the grocery store, and she’ll have my balls if I let you go home drunk again.”
“Yeah, Rusty, drop your keys in the jar,” I said, nodding to the glass jar at the end of the wooden bar. “You can barely drive when you’re sober.”
The little old man in the tweed flat cap looked up at me with pleading eyes before flashing me a terrifying smile. One with far too many teeth missing.
“Come on, buddy,” Nick said softly, smiling and shaking his head. “You know that smile isn’t charming either of us.”
“Don’t you listen to him, you’re charming me just fine.” I giggled.
“Enough for another beer?” the old man croaked. I settledhim with a look that said there was no way I was pouring him another drink.
I shook my head, smiling to myself as he stalked back over to where he had been sitting with a few other familiar faces. I looked back over at the man sitting in the corner, trying to keep my distrust from settling on my face. But he was sat with his back toward us, simply staring at the back of the bar. Whilst I could maybe excuse some behaviour as peculiar, this guy really was just fucking weird.
“God, that guy gives me the creeps. He’s really fucking weird,” I said, looking over at Nick, who just shrugged.
“Everyone who comes in here is ‘fucking weird’,”Nick said, settling me with abe-for-reallook. “Including you and me for even working here in the first place.”
The difference was that we came here out of necessity; everyone else came here out of choice. “Yeah, maybe,” I conceded, trying to still my raging thoughts. Everything in my body screameddanger, get away from him! Don’t let him near you!But then again, my body couldn’t really be trusted. It still couldn’t tell the difference between handing in a mid-term paper or speaking to groups of more than four people and being chased by a pack of ravenous lions.
“Oh, you never told me how your date with Andrew went.”
The smile that lit up Nick’s face was like fireworks lighting up the night sky. “It was absolutely amazing. He took me to a fantastic new bistro in Chesterwood calledThe Cauldron.”
“Ooo, spooky.” I made a mental note to add it to the never-ending list of restaurants and places I wanted to visit when I finally had enough cash to spare. “Well, tell me everything then. What was the food like? What did you wear? What did he order? Did you go back to his place after?”
Nick blushed almost instantly, answering one of my four questions without so much as another word. “Itreally was amazing. After spending the last year going out with assholes and men that weren’t quite sure about their sexuality, it’s really nice to date someone both mature and secure in who they are.”
“I am so happy for you, you totally deserve this. And he’shot,hot too, so double bonus.” And I couldn’t have meant that more. If anyone deserved to be in a healthy, stable relationship, it was Nick. He had moved to Darling a couple of years ago with his fiancée. The guy had cheated and skipped town, leaving Nick isolated in a new place with nothing more than a couple of bags of clothes and a broken heart. The story was both shocking and devastating the first time I’d heard it, doing nothing but validating my cynical views on relationships and love.
But it was like I always said,sometimes it’s better that the trash takes itself out.
But Nick and I had become friends quickly, finding camaraderie in this shitty job and in our general disdain for other people. A string of lousy dates and one-night stands later had left Nick feeling pretty lonely and dejected. That was until he bumped into Andrew in a coffee shop, and the two hit it off. I think Nick really appreciated being able to spend time with someone who was on the same page about what they wanted from a relationship.
Very annoyingly, for my cynical beliefs, the two were destined for forever. Over the last six months, the two of them have claimed to be nothing more than friends. But when Andrew started occasionally popping in after work for a drink, I could see them falling in love from a mile off.
