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I saw the place after rounding the corner. It was just after dusk, a cool
breeze blew through my truck’s open windows. A sense of relief came to me
when I saw the old bar; I hadn’t been feeling very good and thought a few
beers might do the trick. My arm hurt, maybe
from leaning it on the door sill all day long.
I pulled into the gravel parking lot and slid to a
stop near the window, a neon Pabst beer sign blinking somewhat erratically
in the window. Pabst has made me blink somewhat erratically in the past
too, I can’t blame it. It didn’t look like rain so I didn’t bother rolling
the windows up, leaning over to the passenger side felt like it’d be too
much work, so I left the windows down. I stepped out of the truck and felt
a little woozy as my feet hit the ground. Leaning against the truck, I
stretched my arm out. That ol’ sore arm, it was working its way up my
shoulder. Shoulda taken a break this afternoon, I’m no spring chicken
anymore, and that truck sure is no leisure vehicle.
I pushed away from the truck and walked up to the
door, still feeling strange; my feet felt like lead weights. Haven’t eaten
in awhile, maybe that’s all that it is. Maybe I’ll get a burger too.
The door felt heavy and opened with a creak; the
bottom of the door scraped against the concrete and I stepped through to
that homey smell of beer and stale cigarette smoke. Just that smell made
me feel a little more clear headed.
Must be a slow night, only one gal at the bar and the
rest of the joint was empty. It’s still early. I eyed the woman at the bar
and felt that old hungry feeling , and figured if I felt better later I
just might make her mine. Hehe, that’s all they’re good for, am I right or
am I right? She might get lucky tonight.
Glen Campbell played on the Juke, “Wichita Lineman”.
Haven’t heard that one in quite some time. Good tune. The girl at the bar
didn’t look my way as I approached and plopped my old ass onto the stool
right next to her.
She wore very short cutoff jean shorts and a tight
gray colored tank top. Long legs, smooth and pale, led down to a pair of
worn out black Chuck Taylors like they used to wear, and no laces. The
heels hung down inside the barstool from where her toes were perched on
the lower rung. No socks either. Working my way back up from her legs, she
looked like she might be as tall as me. The tank top didn’t hide much,
which I didn’t mind. They come off pretty easy too, in my
experience.
She had short black hair, and no makeup; I thought
maybe she’s a lesbian. Most guys would get turned off by this, but I like
the challenge. I got enough beans to convert her back to normal. Done it
before, believe you me. It’s been awhile, but I’ve been known to make ‘em
scream. One way or another.
She never took her eyes off the TV behind the
bar. I leaned my elbows on the top of the bar, which looked
like a leopard print with the amount of old cigarette burns on it.
“You’re lost,” she said.
“No, not me, not at the moment anyway,” I replied. “Where’s the bartender?” I asked, thinking maybe he stepped out, or was in the crapper.
“Haven’t seen him in awhile,” she said, sliding soundlessly from the bar stool. She walked to the end of the bar and swung gracefully around the end of it. “There isn’t much left, but there are a couple of PBR’s back here. You like those, right?” she said, bending down and opening a cooler behind the bar. I heard the melodic twinkle of beer bottles against one another, the clunk of the door, then a beautiful pale smooth hand appear above the bar with two cold bottles between her fingers.
“That’ll do just fine,” I said, making sure my hand lingered, skin against skin, while I took the bottles from her hand. Her skin was still cold from the freezer. She stood up with a little bounce and I could tell from the jiggle that she wasn’t wearing anything in the way of support under that tank, if you know what I mean. I could feel that hungry feeling again.
The girl came back around from behind the bar as I twisted the cap from the bottle and picked up the second one and did the same, and set it down in front of her as she plopped back down on the bar stool next to me.
“That’s gonna go flat like that. Plan on doing some speed drinking tonight?” she said absent-mindedly with her eyes gluing fast to the television again.
“That one’s for you, ain’t it? You mean to tell me I’m drinking alone tonight?” I said, trying to sound hurt.
“No, they’re both yours. Those are the last two. And I didn’t want to get up to get you the second one after you chug that one down,” she said, picking up a sports bottle off the bar and taking a swig from that. “Besides, I don’t want to get dehydrated.”
Strange little bird, that one. And kinda sassy too. I like that. A lot. She seemed pretty detached though, yet comfortable, and clearly must not be interested in having any company, although made no effort to go and sit somewhere else away from me. I thought I’d try a little harder.
“You don’t need to try any harder,” she said, not looking away from the screen.
“What?” I tried to remember if I said it out loud or not. She must be playing with me.
“You didn’t say it out loud, but I might be playing with you,” she said calmly.
I felt a spark of anger. “What are you, some kind of mind reader or something?” I tried to sound like I was joking it off, but I bet she could tell I was rubbed wrong.
“Mmmm… or something. Yeah, that’s it,” she said, looking at me for the first time, thoughtfully. When she looked at me, I felt, for some reason, the way a deer probably feels when they’re caught in your headlights. Or when they look up from drinking from a stream and see a barrel pointed in their direction. She sensed this, and looked away, back toward the television.
“So what brings you in here? Surely there’s no storm yet.” She was changing the subject, and I took the bait.
“Ahh well you know, searching for the heart of Saturday night, that kind of thing. Never been in here before, thought I’d give it a look.” I looked around. “Kinda slow tonight, huh?”
“It’s usually pretty slow. Dead, in fact,” she said, and looked away from the television and looked directly in my eyes. Her eyes got even bigger for a split second, as if to add emphasis, like she was hinting at something. I’m not a nervous guy, but a nervous twinge went through my body; felt like chills but I wasn’t cold.
“I always get kind of a déjà vu feeling in here, how about you?” she asked, still looking somewhat intently at me.
“You never said where the bartender went,” I said, taking a long pull of my beer and trying to change the subject.
“Well, he’d been trying to get in for awhile. Pete must have let him in,” she said, thoughtfully. “Maybe he finally redeemed himself.”
“Let him in where? The crapper?” I glanced over toward the men’s room. She let out a laugh.
“Haha, no. The ‘crapper’, as you so eloquently put it, has been out of order for quite some time now.” She took another sip from the sports bottle in front of her. I looked over at the men’s room again, now noticing an “out of order” sign on the door that hadn’t been there before. The beer must be getting to me. “You hungry?” she asked, looking away from me and toward the television again.
“Uh, yeah, I could eat. What have you got up in this place?” I couldn’t see any sign of a kitchen anywhere.
“No, there isn’t a kitchen. I was just making conversation,” she said, smiling while watching the TV. She was doing it again, making like she was reading my mind. Little bitch, this was making me mad.
“You’re a strange little bird indeed,” I told her. She seemed pleased at that, and arched her back and stretched her arms up above her head toward the ceiling. Her tank top pulled up and revealed a smooth white flat stomach. Yummy. There were three pink lines, each about an inch long, on her side, just under her ribs. She put her arms down and locked eyes with him while intentionally pulling her tank top back down slowly, then continuing to pull until her cleavage was showing. Three more lines, just like on her side. My heart jumped a little at the sight of it, and I felt like she could see the effect she was having on me, and enjoying it.
“Wanna dance?” she asked, sliding off the bar stool.
Surprised, I said “dance?”
“Yeah, you still know how to dance, right?”
It was then that I noticed that “Wichita Lineman’ was still playing on the juke. It had been playing continuously since I came in here. As I made this realization, she ran her smooth hand down my arm and lightly pulled the beer bottle from my hand and set it down on the bar.
I followed her out to the dance floor, which was nothing more than a clear space where the tables were moved out of the way. The song ended abruptly, and then started over at the beginning as she put her arms over my shoulders. She had very cold hands. Also I hadn’t noticed how dusty the place was; my shoes left clean trails in shuffles on the linoleum. I could feel her breath on my neck as we slowly swayed to the music. It felt more like a cold breeze than the warm humidity of breath. Something wasn’t right.
As we danced, I happened to look over my shoulder and saw through the small window with the Pabst sign out into the parking lot and my truck was gone. I remembered parking right in front of that sign when I arrived. It sure wasn’t there now. I let go of the girl abruptly and walked over to the window. Nope, gone.
I turned and looked at her. “Oh I get it, that’s what you wanted all along! Just lying in wait, like some long-legged spider bitch, distractin’ me! Your bartender buddy took it, didn’t he! It’s a conspiracy!”
“You never learned politeness this whole time. How rude are you?” she laughed softly with a hand over her mouth, never taking her eyes off me, like I was entertaining her. Like some kinda joke. We’ll see who’s laughin’, lesbian or not, she’s gonna get what’s coming.
“Oh?” she said. “And what is coming?” She’s doing it again. I’m seeing red at this point.
“Where’s the damn phone?!?” I yelled, and went behind the bar, knocking glasses over and kicking a garbage can over.
“The damn phone is over there,” she pointed, still smiling, raising her arms above her head and slowly dancing around in a circle. Her tank top hiked up again and there were those three pink lines again.
I picked up the phone from the shelf under the bar top. No dial tone.
“…but it hasn’t worked in awhile,” she said, smirking. “Just like you.” She continued to slowly swirl on the dance floor.
“Keep laughing! That’s right! Get your chuckles, girly! Someone stole my truck and you think it’s a damn joke!” I started back around the bar and headed straight for her. She softened and reached for my arm as I approached. I roughly batted it away. “The hell’s wrong with you?!? What is wrong with this place?!?”
“Nothing wrong, it’s just the way it is. You’ve been pretty patient so far. “ She closed her eyes and kept swirling to the song, slowly. It was infuriating. The song ended and she didn’t stop swirling. The song began again.
“The hell’s going on around here?! Where’d my truck go?! Where’s the bartender?! Who the f—“
She suddenly stopped dancing and looked straight at me with a look that could freeze oil.
“Your truck got towed. You’re not supposed to park here. It’s been awhile and you’re still not catching on. They tow abandoned vehicles, stupid. And you don’t remember me either, huh? STUPID. DO YOU STILL HAVE THE KNIFE?”
The little pink lines! Three at her side and three at her chest! Oh God! The girl! How could…
I began backing up, knocked over a bar stool and fell with my ass against the bar and could feel it, pressing against me, the knife…
The girl was slowly approaching, I could feel her hate burning through my chest, my arm…
“You might be stupid but you’ve got awhile to think about it. We’ve already been here for awhile,” she said.
“Oh God Oh God Oh God!!”
And the song began again.
“You’re lost,” she said.
“No, not me, not at the moment anyway,” I replied. “Where’s the bartender?” I asked, thinking maybe he stepped out, or was in the crapper.
“Haven’t seen him in awhile,” she said, sliding soundlessly from the bar stool. She walked to the end of the bar and swung gracefully around the end of it. “There isn’t much left, but there are a couple of PBR’s back here. You like those, right?” she said, bending down and opening a cooler behind the bar. I heard the melodic twinkle of beer bottles against one another, the clunk of the door, then a beautiful pale smooth hand appear above the bar with two cold bottles between her fingers.
“That’ll do just fine,” I said, making sure my hand lingered, skin against skin, while I took the bottles from her hand. Her skin was still cold from the freezer. She stood up with a little bounce and I could tell from the jiggle that she wasn’t wearing anything in the way of support under that tank, if you know what I mean. I could feel that hungry feeling again.
The girl came back around from behind the bar as I twisted the cap from the bottle and picked up the second one and did the same, and set it down in front of her as she plopped back down on the bar stool next to me.
“That’s gonna go flat like that. Plan on doing some speed drinking tonight?” she said absent-mindedly with her eyes gluing fast to the television again.
“That one’s for you, ain’t it? You mean to tell me I’m drinking alone tonight?” I said, trying to sound hurt.
“No, they’re both yours. Those are the last two. And I didn’t want to get up to get you the second one after you chug that one down,” she said, picking up a sports bottle off the bar and taking a swig from that. “Besides, I don’t want to get dehydrated.”
Strange little bird, that one. And kinda sassy too. I like that. A lot. She seemed pretty detached though, yet comfortable, and clearly must not be interested in having any company, although made no effort to go and sit somewhere else away from me. I thought I’d try a little harder.
“You don’t need to try any harder,” she said, not looking away from the screen.
“What?” I tried to remember if I said it out loud or not. She must be playing with me.
“You didn’t say it out loud, but I might be playing with you,” she said calmly.
I felt a spark of anger. “What are you, some kind of mind reader or something?” I tried to sound like I was joking it off, but I bet she could tell I was rubbed wrong.
“Mmmm… or something. Yeah, that’s it,” she said, looking at me for the first time, thoughtfully. When she looked at me, I felt, for some reason, the way a deer probably feels when they’re caught in your headlights. Or when they look up from drinking from a stream and see a barrel pointed in their direction. She sensed this, and looked away, back toward the television.
“So what brings you in here? Surely there’s no storm yet.” She was changing the subject, and I took the bait.
“Ahh well you know, searching for the heart of Saturday night, that kind of thing. Never been in here before, thought I’d give it a look.” I looked around. “Kinda slow tonight, huh?”
“It’s usually pretty slow. Dead, in fact,” she said, and looked away from the television and looked directly in my eyes. Her eyes got even bigger for a split second, as if to add emphasis, like she was hinting at something. I’m not a nervous guy, but a nervous twinge went through my body; felt like chills but I wasn’t cold.
“I always get kind of a déjà vu feeling in here, how about you?” she asked, still looking somewhat intently at me.
“You never said where the bartender went,” I said, taking a long pull of my beer and trying to change the subject.
“Well, he’d been trying to get in for awhile. Pete must have let him in,” she said, thoughtfully. “Maybe he finally redeemed himself.”
“Let him in where? The crapper?” I glanced over toward the men’s room. She let out a laugh.
“Haha, no. The ‘crapper’, as you so eloquently put it, has been out of order for quite some time now.” She took another sip from the sports bottle in front of her. I looked over at the men’s room again, now noticing an “out of order” sign on the door that hadn’t been there before. The beer must be getting to me. “You hungry?” she asked, looking away from me and toward the television again.
“Uh, yeah, I could eat. What have you got up in this place?” I couldn’t see any sign of a kitchen anywhere.
“No, there isn’t a kitchen. I was just making conversation,” she said, smiling while watching the TV. She was doing it again, making like she was reading my mind. Little bitch, this was making me mad.
“You’re a strange little bird indeed,” I told her. She seemed pleased at that, and arched her back and stretched her arms up above her head toward the ceiling. Her tank top pulled up and revealed a smooth white flat stomach. Yummy. There were three pink lines, each about an inch long, on her side, just under her ribs. She put her arms down and locked eyes with him while intentionally pulling her tank top back down slowly, then continuing to pull until her cleavage was showing. Three more lines, just like on her side. My heart jumped a little at the sight of it, and I felt like she could see the effect she was having on me, and enjoying it.
“Wanna dance?” she asked, sliding off the bar stool.
Surprised, I said “dance?”
“Yeah, you still know how to dance, right?”
It was then that I noticed that “Wichita Lineman’ was still playing on the juke. It had been playing continuously since I came in here. As I made this realization, she ran her smooth hand down my arm and lightly pulled the beer bottle from my hand and set it down on the bar.
I followed her out to the dance floor, which was nothing more than a clear space where the tables were moved out of the way. The song ended abruptly, and then started over at the beginning as she put her arms over my shoulders. She had very cold hands. Also I hadn’t noticed how dusty the place was; my shoes left clean trails in shuffles on the linoleum. I could feel her breath on my neck as we slowly swayed to the music. It felt more like a cold breeze than the warm humidity of breath. Something wasn’t right.
As we danced, I happened to look over my shoulder and saw through the small window with the Pabst sign out into the parking lot and my truck was gone. I remembered parking right in front of that sign when I arrived. It sure wasn’t there now. I let go of the girl abruptly and walked over to the window. Nope, gone.
I turned and looked at her. “Oh I get it, that’s what you wanted all along! Just lying in wait, like some long-legged spider bitch, distractin’ me! Your bartender buddy took it, didn’t he! It’s a conspiracy!”
“You never learned politeness this whole time. How rude are you?” she laughed softly with a hand over her mouth, never taking her eyes off me, like I was entertaining her. Like some kinda joke. We’ll see who’s laughin’, lesbian or not, she’s gonna get what’s coming.
“Oh?” she said. “And what is coming?” She’s doing it again. I’m seeing red at this point.
“Where’s the damn phone?!?” I yelled, and went behind the bar, knocking glasses over and kicking a garbage can over.
“The damn phone is over there,” she pointed, still smiling, raising her arms above her head and slowly dancing around in a circle. Her tank top hiked up again and there were those three pink lines again.
I picked up the phone from the shelf under the bar top. No dial tone.
“…but it hasn’t worked in awhile,” she said, smirking. “Just like you.” She continued to slowly swirl on the dance floor.
“Keep laughing! That’s right! Get your chuckles, girly! Someone stole my truck and you think it’s a damn joke!” I started back around the bar and headed straight for her. She softened and reached for my arm as I approached. I roughly batted it away. “The hell’s wrong with you?!? What is wrong with this place?!?”
“Nothing wrong, it’s just the way it is. You’ve been pretty patient so far. “ She closed her eyes and kept swirling to the song, slowly. It was infuriating. The song ended and she didn’t stop swirling. The song began again.
“The hell’s going on around here?! Where’d my truck go?! Where’s the bartender?! Who the f—“
She suddenly stopped dancing and looked straight at me with a look that could freeze oil.
“Your truck got towed. You’re not supposed to park here. It’s been awhile and you’re still not catching on. They tow abandoned vehicles, stupid. And you don’t remember me either, huh? STUPID. DO YOU STILL HAVE THE KNIFE?”
The little pink lines! Three at her side and three at her chest! Oh God! The girl! How could…
I began backing up, knocked over a bar stool and fell with my ass against the bar and could feel it, pressing against me, the knife…
The girl was slowly approaching, I could feel her hate burning through my chest, my arm…
“You might be stupid but you’ve got awhile to think about it. We’ve already been here for awhile,” she said.
“Oh God Oh God Oh God!!”
And the song began again.
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