by Bryan James
Conrad was no better. He felt sorry enough to let him sleep in the house but he was wary of the young man’s intent. He didn’t think Conrad would try to rape him, or even attack him, but rob him, steal anything of value, yes, that was a definite possibility.
Simon fell face first down on his bed. His head didn’t even make it to the pillow. He liked the feeling of the cool surface against his partially numb face. He moved it from side to side until there was no more sensation left to feel.
Chapter 09 - Our Brother’s Keeper
Against his better judgement Conrad stepped into the Atherton Hotel and Bar with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders tense. He hated local bars in small towns and he especially hated the people there. He had once tried to leave these people behind him. They were judgmental, prejudice, homophobic, and rude. But he wanted to make a quick dollar because he wasn’t sure if Marcus would come through with more money and he didn’t, couldn’t, get a job anywhere around there, not even hustle a john and roll him for a few bucks.
The place was small, mostly empty. He spotted the bartender at the end talking to one of the customers as they stared at a phone. There were two old men at either sides of the bar who looked more like fixtures than people, each of them nursed a beer. One played the game on a video screen and the other stared up at the television. Conrad made his way to the middle where he sat on a stool and looked to the bartender who made her way to him. She was old but had an endearing smile. She asked him for identification which he provided and she returned to him after checking it.
“What’ll you have?” she asked.
He looked up at the shelf of liquor, then to the beer taps. He decided he would go slow because he needed to keep his wits about him. He ordered a beer and a whiskey.
“That’ll be four-fifty,” she said.
He reached into his pocket and took out his money clip where he kept a few ones, a few fives, and a ten dollar bill. He pulled out a five because he wanted to give her a tip. She readied the drinks easily and set them before him. He set the five in the bar and told her to keep the change.
“Thanks,” she said before walking away back to her friend.
He followed her with his eyes for a moment out of habit and curiosity before realizing it could be perceived as being rude and get him in trouble so he looked away to the bottles and then to the television. He downed the whiskey without looking and set the glass back down. There was a familiar burn and a feeling in his brain as if a button had been pushed causing mechanisms to begin to work.
After that it was slow. He nursed the beer for close to an hour and was about to leave when he spotted someone coming in from the back door, a young man in a sleeveless shirt, jeans, and work boots. His hair was freshly cut, nearly to the skin around the sides and back with a little on top. He looked to be ex-army or some kind of armed services. Rough trade, Conrad thought and smirked at his own joke. He watched as the young man moved to the bartender, hugged her, and then they both looked to the clock.
“You’re running late,” she said.
“Don’t worry mom it’s only five minutes,” he replied.
“Well, I’m supposed to take Bonnie here to the mall and I have to pick up dinner tonight for your father and me. Am I babysitting tonight?”
“Yeah, Rachel said she got an extra shift,” he answered.
“See, I have things to do. Now I have to get some extra food for the kids.”
The young man reached into his pocket and pulled out wrinkled bills, counted out ten dollars and handed it to his mother. He hugged her again and then she signaled to her friend and they were gone. Conrad looked to the young man, his biceps, and then looked away back to the television. He was surprised when the young man called out to the old men as he walked down to the taps. He got them each another drink before he came back to the middle of the bar where he leaned back against the display area and crossed his arms.
“Have I seen you around here before?” he asked.
Conrad looked to him and felt his body tense. He tried to think through every possible scenario.
“Are you somebody’s brother? I feel like I should know you.”
Conrad shook his head. He was tempted to say he was someone’s brother but for all he knew that person could walk through the door and refute the whole story. No, he thought something close to the truth would be better.
“I’m new here, visiting actually, my cousin Simon.”
“Simon?”
“Winters,” Conrad said.
“Oh, oh right, yeah, okay, well, I’m DJ.”
DJ held out his hand and Conrad shook it.
“Another drink?”
“Sure, another beer,” Conrad said before reaching into his pocket.
DJ took his glass and got him another beer, set it down on bar in near the same spot.
“That’ll be a dollar fifty,” he said.
Conrad pulled out two dollar bills and handed them over and told him to keep the change. DJ was a little more enthusiastic as he took the money, more amused than pleased but still more enthusiastic. Conrad looked to him, watched as he turned away, not only the sleeves were gone but the side of the shirt as well allowing him to see the young man’s ribs, flat stomach, and even part of his pectoral muscle. He felt himself getting erect just at the sight and shifted his knee to try and hide it even though no one was looking, no one could see.
“So uh, are you staying long?” DJ asked.
Conrad was surprised by the follow up question, a question of interest. He looked to DJ and opened his mouth to answer when a phone began to ring. It was DJ’s phone. He took it out of his pocket and answered it.
“Hello, yeah I’m here. No, it’s pretty slow, stop on by. Yeah, that’ll work. Just come in and have a drink. Okay, talk to you later.”
Conrad thought over what he heard. Did he just hear about some kind of rendezvous? Was it drug related? He squinted and looked over the young man as he returned his phone to his pocket. He looked like a soldier but these days that meant he could either really be into drugs or really against them.
“Sorry about that. So, are you staying very long?”
“I’m not sure actually. I’m sorting a few things out. Maybe going on a road trip.”
“That’s cool, not much to see around here. The place is pretty dead, not many jobs. You really have to hustle for a dollar.”
“That’s good to know,” Conrad replied.
DJ shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, I have to check on a few things but let me know if you need anything.”
One of the old men coughed and Conrad looked to him but the man didn’t mean anything by it and instead lit up a cigarette. He hadn’t seen anyone smoke in a bar.
“Can you smoke in here?” Conrad asked.
The old man looked down to him.
“Still legal as long as the place doesn’t sell any food,” he said.
“Really?”
For a moment he thought about getting a pack of cigarettes and coming back but it felt too desperate, too complicated. He would hate the feeling of returning with cigarettes just to smoke, besides he had a fresh beer and he was feeling pretty weighed down to the stool. He sipped at his beer and decided to take it easy if only for the teasing sight of DJ’s shirt.
It was only another half hour when he finished his second beer and was about to ask for another when someone else walked in the back door. He was young too but chubby with long, unkempt hair and a stained shirt. He almost waddled. Conrad felt like laughing at him until he saw the new young man go to DJ and they shook hands before walking to the back of the bar. They were making an exchange of some kind. Maybe there is something more here after all, Conrad thought. But he looked away back to the television. He listened as the new young man didn’t stay long and was gone, whatever they had exchanged was quick and easy.
After that it wasn’t long before DJ went to his car to retrieve a bag that he set under the bar, then slowly over the next few hours patr
ons came in, had a drink or two, over paid, and he slipped them an envelope as casually as he could.
It was several hours, and several beers later, after the sun had set that Conrad decided the time was now. He needed to be bold and take a risk. He got to his feet, unexpectedly felt a little off balance and steadied himself against the bar before he pushed away and headed to the men’s room. Inside he pissed at the urinal, washed his hands, made sure they were very dry with the paper towels sitting on the shelf, and went to the stall where he closed the door and took the bottle out of his pocket. He took off the lid, carefully took out the cotton, and slid one pill into his hand. He put the cotton back, closed the bottle, stuck it back in his pocket, and exited the men’s room. The bar was exactly as he had left it and he made his way to his stool. He signaled for DJ who came down and stood in front of him.
“Last one?”
Conrad nodded.
“And can I bum a smoke?”
DJ shrugged and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He set them down on the counter, picked up the glass and went to get another, last beer. Conrad looked around the bar but no one was looking his direction. He took out a cigarette and slipped the pill into the pack, all the way to the bottom.
When DJ returned Conrad motioned for him to lean in close. Conrad stood a little and leaned over the bar as well until he was next to DJ’s ear.
“I put a tip at the bottom of your pack,” he whispered.
DJ pulled away, smiled at him, then picked up the pack of cigarettes. He looked puzzled at first, trying to imagine what kind of tip would be small enough to fit inside a pack of cigarettes. He thought it might be a joint. He looked over the butts of the cigarettes and didn’t see anything unusual. He made his way to the end of the bar where he was alone and fidgeted with the pack until the pill came out in his hand. Conrad watched as he looked it over, looked back to Conrad, and then got up and started walking in his direction. Conrad braced himself as he thought for a moment DJ was about to attack him, grab him and throw him out, but instead he stepped behind him and leaned in close to his ear.
“Do you have anymore?” he whispered.
They both looked to the pool tables where the other patrons were playing.
“Can we talk somewhere?”
“Let’s take a smoke break,” DJ said.
Conrad got up from his stool and DJ steadied him before they walked back through the bar and out into the parking lot. They looked around and DJ pulled him gently to the alleyway and into darkness.
“How many do you have?”
“I’ve got twenty-four more,” Conrad answered.
“How much do you want for them?”
Conrad sighed. He knew he wouldn’t get city street price for them.
“Ten,” Conrad replied.
“You’re not going to get ten. I can do seven. I know a guy. But you have to give me two dollars a pill for setting it up.”
“When?”
“Tonight,” DJ replied. “You give me the pills and I’ll call him. He comes down with the money. I count it out and give you a hundred bucks.”
“So we’re counting the one I slipped you?”
“Yeah,” DJ said.
“Okay, but I keep the pills. I’ll meet him in his car. He gives me the cash and I settle with you right after.”
“How about after I close the place we both meet him in the bar and split the cash right there?”
“Better yet,” Conrad said.
“Good, now eat something to sober up. Here’s your pill back. They’re not my thing and I can’t be holding just one.”
Conrad took the pill and waited for a moment until DJ walked back into the bar. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, slipped the pill back into the container, pocketed it, and congratulated himself for having the courage to do it.
Chapter 10 - In the Name of the Father
“I did it,” Heather said aloud expecting it would be picked up by her phone on the counter as she stood at her kitchen sink washing dishes.
“Did what?” Kevin asked. His voice crackled because the speaker volume was so loud.
“I went to go see Simon Winters yesterday at his home. He’s actually a nice guy. We talked for a while and he told me about his house. He said it was built back in the bootlegging days from illegal money.”
“Prohibition? Really?”
“Yeah, pretty cool huh,” she answered. “Anyway, I told him I knew someone who was doing a history project and that’s why he started telling me all this stuff. And the house had this secret compartment. He said there were more.”
“Sounds interesting but I’m not sure if it’s right for me,” Kevin said.
“Come on you have to do it,” she said. “I mean can you imagine actual gangsters lived here in this town. This place used to have a whole past. My grandfather told me about how there used to be whore houses on Main Street. He said there was a bird cage, or maybe some place called that, and that even gay guys were around. Of course they weren’t called gay, just guys who had sex with other guys but still it wasn’t like what it became with all of the bigotry. They just didn’t talk about it.”
Heather pulled the last dish from the water, rinsed it off, and stuck it amongst the others in the rack to dry. She brushed at her head with her wrist before picking up a nearby towel to dry her hands. She looked into the living room where her father sat drinking beer and watching television.
“Are you still there?” Kevin asked.
“Yeah, hold on, I’m going to switch you over to regular. Hey, do you want to play a game online?”
“Sure,” Kevin replied.
She picked up her phone and switched it from speaker to normal and stuck it to her ear before making her way through the house and to her room where she closed her bedroom door. She turned on her television and lowered the volume to be barely audible. She picked up her computer.
“I’m almost there,” she said.
“I sent the invite,” he said.
She opened a browser window and went to find the game. She was focused on the screen when she heard a thud, the closing of the main house door, and seconds later the starting of a car. She got up from her bed and walked to her window where she saw the family car, her family car, reverse out of the driveway and begin to drive down the street. She thought about her father and worried he wasn’t in a good condition to drive.
“What is it?” Kevin asked.
“My father of course,” she said, “he’s taken the car. I don’t know where he’s going, maybe the bar. I hate when he’s been drinking and he drives. God only knows how much he’s spending. It’s been such a long, hard road with him.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just, sometimes...”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“That’s sweet but no,” she said. She moved back to her bed and sat. She picked up her computer and put it on her lap, found the game, and started it. Kevin made the first word. She looked over her letters and fell into silence.
They played for several hours until Kevin said that he had to finish his homework and she agreed that she had to be up for work early in the morning. She ended the call and closed her computer, set both on stand next to her bed and relaxed against her pillows, closed her eyes.
She wished her father was dead. At least then it would be easier, she thought.
***********
Heather slept for six and a half hours before she woke to her alarm. She went about her routine of showering and getting ready for work before she went to the living room and her heart sunk when she saw the recliner was empty. She looked through the rest of the house but her father wasn’t in the kitchen, his bedroom, or the bathroom. She felt a pain in her chest and held her breath for a moment before forcing herself to breathe. He had to be out there somewhere, she thought, maybe he fell asleep while baking for the coffee shop. The coffee shop, she thought, hopefully it isn’t burned to the ground, hopefully no one else got injure
d.
She collected her things like normal and went out to the driveway but the car was still gone. It was a short walk to the shop, she told herself. She started to walk. She stopped. She took out her phone and searched through the address book until she found Kevin but then she looked at the time. It was too early. She closed it, locked the phone and stuck it back in her pocket. She continued to walk.
It was a familiar path, down familiar streets, though normally she would be driving so it looked a little different, a little slower. She looked around everywhere for signs of her father or the car. Every time she turned a corner she expected to see the car there crashed into a telephone pole or someone else’s car. When she got to the coffee shop she saw everything was okay on Main Street so she unlocked the front door and went inside directly to the kitchen but he wasn’t there. She felt like something returned to her. He wasn’t there. She turned on the lights. But nothing had been made either.
At least he’s still out there, she thought, somewhere. She spotted a small bag of garbage, picked it up, and carried it out the back door. The back door always stuck a little and she had to push against it pretty hard to get it to open. She was still angry and she hit the door with a force that surprised herself. The sun blinded her eyes and she shielded them with her hand as she stepped outside only to be stopped by the sight of her car, the family car, crashed into the corner of the building.
Her father wasn’t inside. The front end was pushed in at nearly an even divide, the front bumper was cracked in half but the windshield and driver side window was intact. He couldn’t have been going very fast, she thought, maybe fifteen miles per hour. He probably left the bar, or wherever he went, drunk and came here to bake. He was pulling into the parking area and bam. She stepped to the window. The car was off, the doors locked, keys missing. There was no sign of blood. Had the police found him? Probably, she told herself. She thought about the legal problems, the news story, and the business. It all felt so vulnerable. She took the trash to the dumpster and put it inside before she went back into the coffee shop where she closed the back door and found herself a cup of old coffee. She microwaved it, poured in some milk, and went out to the main area where she turned the sign to ‘closed’ and locked the front door. She went to her favorite table and sat.
