Boogie Beach

by Winnie Winkle

  Charlie was on his knees pounding a row, and I stuck my tongue out at Chelsea. She laughed, finished her drink, and snapped.

  Oh well, at least I still have hair.

  Chapter 19

  Four hours of nailing remained, and Charlie rubbed his head.

  “That’s incredible. When you said three days, I thought you were nuts, but damn, Patra. I’ll handle the rest by myself in the morning, get here early and knock it out. It looks good. What about the pilings?”

  “Skeevy Max is due tomorrow afternoon to inspect. As long as the rip current didn’t undermine them, we’re solid. You made the difference, Charlie. I appreciate the effort.”

  With a troubled expression, he opened his mouth, and I stopped him, waving a finger.

  “Nope. Old business. Make sure it stays that way.”

  He nodded.

  “Watch for a text about what Max says and I’ll get Jameson on deck to finish the work. The last info I have is that he’ll be a week to start. Because of that mold, he bumped us back a job.”

  “At least you took care of the mold. Who d’you use for that?”

  I pulled my phone, shrugged at Charlie, and pretended to answer it.

  “Hey, Ballard.”

  Charlie backed up to give me privacy, grabbed his backpack and waved. I returned the wave, still pretending to chat. Once he left the pier, I palmed into the magic side and poured a bourbon. A pop announced an arrival, but I didn’t look.

  “That was original.”

  “Rape is not an acceptable punishment,” Glenna said. “Chelsea will apologize in person once she’s removed the boils from her inner thighs.”

  “Oh, Glenna, no, don’t make this worse.”

  “Pish, I’m her mama. Are you working?”

  Nodding, I eased behind the bar. “A bat fizz? Something stronger?”

  “Give me a kettle ale and a three tides on the side.”

  I built the three tides, the same principle as a twelfth except a drink instead of a gateway to plastered, then tapped her ale.

  “Cheers,” I lifted my bourbon and we clinked with care. I did not need a splash from her three tides landing in my drink. An accident like that and I’d sleep for two days.

  Another pop and Chelsea took the seat next to Glenna. A double of her favorite slid to her with a commiserating look.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I am sorry too, Patra. It was a low trick. Are you okay?”

  “Charlie stopped when I ordered him to, which was surprising but appreciated.”

  “He what?”

  “Stepped away. I smacked his head with my elbow, got space between us, and he stopped raging.”

  “I must be losing my touch,” Chelsea muttered under her breath.

  “Lucky for you I happened by,” Glenna murmured.

  Green eyes cut to green eyes and the realization of how close the call was rolled across my brain. I kept quiet, wiping and stocking, and left them alone, certain they were arguing in their heads and not wanting to overhear. Chelsea flushed a deep red, and I pushed another cocktail over, then retreated to clean the bathrooms. When I ventured out, they’d left. A pile of human dollars lay on the bartop.

  “What does it take to get a drink in this joint?” Clep inquired.

  “A rested barkeep,” I replied. “Thanks for the tap to the head. The usual?”

  “You needed to sleep. This place stretches your stamina.”

  I slid the twelfth tides over, enjoying the perfect swirling, when the door opened again. Bingo’s long scrawny neck stretched around the corner.

  “Yes! Not here!”

  Pook on his heels, he trotted toward us, grinning. I tapped their fish ales and set them at their usual spots.

  “Day drinking, or close to it, is the plan. Those muses are a bummer.” Pook’s grin made me chuckle.

  “They are formidable,” I agreed.

  “Zeus’ girls are necessary, but yeah, they kill the fun,” Clep’s deep laugh boomed through the bar. “Hades hates it when they send his people back. It doesn’t hurt them most of the time, although a muse can cause cessation. He calls me on occasion to resuscitate a favorite.”

  I shot him a look. “So, dying is not permanent?”

  Clep turned those eyes on me and I snapped my mouth shut. Stop asking questions, Patra. Do you think you’re a peer? Got a death wish? Jeez.

  “Depends on the death,” Clep replied after a long beat.

  My eyes turned to the beach, and I realized I missed Poseidon’s hedonism playing out in the waning sunlight. That speedo left a big wake. I sighed without realizing it, and glanced back to see Clep watching me with another of his evaluating looks. I gave him a half smile, and moved to tap new ales for the pelican duo.

  “It’s quiet when Poseidon’s gone,” Bingo wiped foam from his mouth.

  “And the bears. They got it bad for those fae chicks,” Pook added. “When the fairies get wound up on your whisps, that’s a good time.”

  “Until the muses finish their, what? Investigation? I think it’s best they aren’t here, Pook. I don’t want to drive away new business. It’d be good to have the forest folks become regulars. New patrons are healthy for The Boogey.”

  The two finished their ales, shoved a few fish scented coins my way, old shillings by the look of them, and hopped off their stools.

  “Hey Keeper, we’ll be back if the mighty-whitey-trio doesn’t show,” Bingo grinned. “Otherwise, see you tomorrow.”

  I nodded, wiping the bartop. “Thanks for stopping by, boys.”

  They took wing off the railing of the bar, and I built another twelfth tides for Clep and set it in front of him.

  CRACK!

  The Boogey rattled, and I jumped, landing with a stumble on the heaving floor, deck boards bending and groaning from stress.

  “Dammit! Not again.”

  Running for the door of the buckling bar, I palmed out and lunged for the side ladder. It’s my emergency exit, and even at high tide it was a fifteen-foot drop to the surface, so bailing was not a sissy move. I crabbed down to the last rung, swung and dropped, my half-repaired leg giving a good scream. Sorry, Doc.

  The rip was back, but only on the line. Shit!

  Except, that’s not the same rip current as before, it was a boil of sea, centered along the line. Clep materialized next to me.

  “I must save the book!” I spun, ready to sprint, when a green tendril grabbed my arm.

  “Stand down, Keeper,” Clep murmured. “That is not a threat.”

  “Not a, what?” I stared at the water, churning in a roiling bubble and not in the manner of typical waves. “That is not normal, Asclepius.”

  “No, it is not, but it’s not Vapor related. Stay put.”

  That’s a direct request and I stood transfixed as the sea stretched out, a massive array of bubbled foam and stirred sand. Then it was gone, normal waves easing in as the sun set.

  Poseidon rose from the ocean, fading from gleaming crystal to his tan, speedo-clad self. He thrust his hands into the surf and yanked the three muses by the hair from the sea, slinging them over his shoulder.

  “Clep, good to see you.” He strode onto the beach. “Keeper, a drink is in order.”

  I nodded, eyes riveted on the muses, who looked exhausted and panicked. Speechless, I turned and trotted up the sand to the pier’s staircase, attempting to keep my brain as blank as possible, beyond a few ‘holy shits’ because I was human and this was huge.

  I made Poseidon’s usual and faded back toward the taps, standing on the exit in the floor. The sense of punishment permeated the place. If I wasn’t supposed to be here, I wanted out. My skin crawled with a dread-sorrow sensation unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Omnipotent fury was a terrifying force. No matter how curious you were about god rage, I wouldn’t recommend adding it to your bucket list

  Poseidon’s feet shook The Boogey, and he slung the muses off his shoulder, tied their hair into a single knot, then gestured at the ceiling.
A huge iron hook shimmered into existence, and Poseidon tossed them, catching the knot and leaving the three dangling by their hair, a foot off the floor. His drink vanished, and a thick finger tapped the bar. I poured another as fast as possible and retreated toward the taps.

  “Keeper, you’re not leaving. Relax.”

  A nod, my throat clicking, and I moved toward him. The two gods drank, and I kept pouring. Behind them, I realized the muses were weeping, but silent. Tears fell, turning my floorboards silver wherever they landed.

  “Sing,” Poseidon’s derision emanated, as if they were ants, not Zeus’s daughters.

  The muses opened their mouths, and indescribable beauty issued forth, filling The Boogey with hope, optimism, and joy.

  “Incredible,” I stared, transfixed.

  Pops filled the bar as twenty witches arrived, so I got to work, happy within the music, which considering the enmity issuing from Poseidon, acted as a balance. Maybe that’s on purpose? Clep’s eyes twinkled and I gave myself a mental slap. Shut it down, Patra. Pour and observe. Nothing else.

  Lightning hit the sea with a thunderous crack and I reacted, as did half the witches.

  “That was close,” I muttered, pouring.

  “Always the showoff,” Poseidon squinted his eyes at the dangling muses. “Daddy’s here, girls.”

  Daddy? Oh, holy hell.

  I’d never met Zeus, and from the book I knew Billy never did either. The only Keeper to meet him here, on this line, was way back when they built the original home on the beach side and the first Keeper was chosen. After that, nada. It’s good to not attract attention; longevity odds improve. Yet, here I was, feeling the power that’s palming my door, doing my best to not pee my pants. Three. I have three gods in my damn bar. My blood felt like it was running backward, my stomach resided in my feet, and every nerve screamed, ‘run’.

  I’m the Keeper, so I didn’t, but this shit right here wasn’t healthy.

  “A honey mead.”

  I mixed, hands shaking, but not as much as I thought they would, and passed the drink. He took it, draining and crashing the heavy glass onto the bar. It shattered.

  “Again.”

  I served and tidied the mess, eyes downcast but taking in the size of him, the incredible flowing hair, and the immensity of his chest.

  Throwing bolts is a good workout.

  Cerulean blue eyes turned toward me, but I’m not smote, so I kept my face smooth and was pretty damn grateful. To my surprise, he settled on the stool next to Poseidon, who tapped for another drink. Clep did too. I mixed a round for the three, then backed my butt up. Their presence was so overwhelming, I couldn’t bear to be near their power.

  The witches stood in clusters in the corners and watched, sipping. Glenna and Chelsea arrived, and her eyes jerked to the taps, telling me to get on the hatch door. Was it safer to follow Poseidon’s directive or Chelsea’s? Or, work the room but keep my eject spot close? I’ve got a thirsty crowd, so that decided for me.

  Poseidon and Zeus talked, massive heads together, with an occasional comment from Clep, and the balance in the room shifted. The music lifted the mood, and I watched the witches relax. I responded too, my guts unclenched and I noticed the muse’s tears no longer fell.

  What did the muses do? Oops.

  Zeus’s gaze landed on me for a long, ‘am I going to die’, type of moment, then turned away. Poseidon gave me a tiny shake of his head, and Clep raised a long finger to his lips.

  I skittered over to Chelsea, wide-eyed, and she planted a pinch on my forearm that would leave a bruise. I took the pain in silence and mixed another round for Glenna, who was oblivious to the atmosphere, smiling and nodding to the music. A quick scan of the room revealed empty glasses, so I mixed, walking new drinks out to some witches and taking orders for others.

  The sensation shifted, and I saw Zeus rising.

  “Poseidon, my Brother.”

  With a wave, the muse’s hair unknotted and they landed on their feet. Still singing, they followed Zeus into the night. An impressive bolt cracked across the sky and they were gone.

  The exhaustion of a thousand dying suns filled my blood, and I collapsed on one of my stools, uncertain my legs would work.

  “Keeper, another.”

  Chapter 20

  The optimal course to staying alive was to let it go, but I kept returning to the events, consumed with understanding what I witnessed. Zeus on the line, then sitting in The Boogey? Muses under the water! That’s the one place they can’t go. Did they chase Poseidon, or did he catch and punish them there? They were FREAKED. I didn’t understand any of this.

  In my office, I wrote a lengthy book entry, trying to extract every crumb from Zeus’s unexpected party crash, but I had holes, lots of them. Sometimes, writing it out helped me organize.

  After tucking the book away, I walked into The Boogie and groaned, tears prickling. The floors were all fucked-up.

  Poseidon looked at me. “What?”

  A wave at the buckled floors, loaded with protruding nails, accompanied a grimace. “Charlie and I nailed these together after the rip tides, so we could get the inspector out here. Now, everything’s undone. This could close The Boogie, or cost a hundred thousand plus to fix if I have to replace all this wood and some pilings, too.”

  Poseidon gazed at me and shrugged. Nails started snapping into the boards, a cacophony of clicks and zips. The Boogie shuddered, and I stared back, surprised.

  “I left the bit Charlie is supposed to nail, but I fixed the pilings,” Poseidon grinned. “Feeling generous. You?”

  His comical leer cracked me up.

  “Thank you, really, thanks with all my heart. This has been a surreal week.”

  “Oh, I saw you nail the boards, and Chelsea’s shitty little trick. My pleasure. Charlie would be good with you, might want to reconsider when he’s not spell wonky.”

  “I’m with Ballard.” My tone was gentle, and Poseidon nodded.

  “For now.”

  “Isn’t now all I have?”

  A quick call to Ballard at sunrise let him know I expected Skeevy Max at eight o’clock and wouldn’t be over for sexy time. I hated lying, but Big Red was stuck to me like glue again, and after the God-zootopia fest last night I was ‘stick a fork in me’ done. No sex for moi, even as a bound captive. October was sucking me dry.

  Max’s actual appointment was after lunch, so I headed home to crash in what I hoped was an unmolested nap. Poseidon was reticent, unusual for the world’s largest beach bum, but I’m taking it. While hopeful for a subconscious bump or the odd relevant dream, what I got was a four-hour snooze of blank nothingness.

  C’est la vie.

  I staggered upright and nuked old coffee before padding onto the balcony. I had sixty luxurious minutes to get my shit together. Poseidon, sacked out on the chaise, didn’t stir, so I chugged the bitters and hit the shower.

  How many days since you got one of these, stinky girl? I did not want to know.

  Feeling human did a lot for a person, and I stuffed a ham sandwich down my neck, another mug of yesterday’s? two days ago? coffee and embraced humanity. Flip-flops on, I slapped across the balcony and clapped until Red Britches cracked an eye.

  “Hey, I have to meet the building inspector in half an hour. I didn’t want you to wonder where I was.”

  He laughed. “You are my favorite idiot.”

  What? Not the idiot part, I knew the whole omnipotence thing meant he always knew where everybody was, but the favorite part, that was new.

  “Human politeness. It’s a habit.”

  Poseidon nodded and followed me to the car. “Clep enjoyed the ride you gave him. He’s got a thing for cars.”

  “Asclepius healed a nasty scrape. A bolt up the interstate was the least I could offer.”

  I turned my eyes from his horndog-style waggling eyebrows, and drove to The Boogie.

  Was this how the end begins? Too comfortable with the almighty? Something to ponder.


  “Hinges on the attitude of the Keeper,” Poseidon said, trying on a pair of my cheap sunglasses from the console and striking a pose. “And the god. Some are more amused than others. I’d steer clear of Ares. He’s an ass.”

  God of War. Check.

  I never knew if anyone could see Poseidon but we pulled in and nobody gave me a second glance, so I assumed he and his pink bedazzled shades were incognito for now. I waved to Charlie, whose thumbs up told me the deck was finished and squared my shoulders at Max’s city-issued truck bouncing into the parking lot. Here we go.

  “Patra, Honey, you’ve had some weather. Let’s look under The Boogie’s skirts.” Max’s smile made my skin creep. He stood too close.

  The tide was low, and we headed underneath, walking out to the surf. Max examined the understructure, jotting a few notes.

  “I’m surprised, truth be told. The beach patrol led me to believe The Boogie took a substantial hit. The main pier to the north needs more work than you do.”

  “Well, I dropped a few nailheads, Max, but nothing of note.”

  “Let’s peek inside,” his hand sought my waist, but I moved ahead before it landed, trotting up the pier steps. I’d rather have Max leer at my ass running up the steps than his detestable hands anywhere on my body.

  Max took his time, evaluating the floor and the building, adding a few more comments. At the site of the explosion he stopped and set up his portable ladder, climbing up and shouting as he inspected.

  “Thought Jameson had this?”

  “He had to swap a job in front of The Boogie’s, so he’s starting in a few days.”

  “That works out better for you. These pilings pass, but the roof needs additional tie downs, and you should reinforce the wall behind the bar.”

  That’s the magic wall, so it’s not going anywhere, but I let Max’s comment slide. Chelsea could make it look like whatever he wanted to see.

  “Give me a list and I’ll add it to Jameson’s job.”