by Freya Barker
“Good. Anything else I need to know before I dive into my office?”
Again, they look between each other, but this time it’s Denise turning to me.
“Actually ... you know that guy who was in here last month scoping the place out?” I nod while she fiddles with the towel in her hands. “He umm ... he was back, only this time he came right up to the bar and started asking all kinds of questions.”
“Like what?”
“About you, mainly. At first he chatted me up about the menu; wanting to know the crowd favorites. But when he started asking about the day-to-day workings and wanted to know details—like the number of employees and the busiest nights and stuff—it made me a little uneasy. It wasn’t just idle chit chat, Gunnar. He asked a lot of questions about you, like when you’re usually here, how long you’ve owned the place and who owned it before you. I don’t know who he is, but both times he’s been in here, he’s been eyeing up the place.” Denise looks a bit nervous when Matt jumps in.
“Are you planning on selling?” he blurts out, taking me completely by surprise.
“Am I what? Fuck no. Not in a million years. This place has been in my family for donkey’s years. We get good business from our regulars and a decent amount of walk-ins from tourists, so why the hell would I want to sell?”
“Phew, good. I like my job. Matt and I just got to talking, and well ... we were worried. Viv said it was ridiculous; that you’d never sell, but it’s nice to hear it from you.”
“Next time he comes in, let me know? Think I’ll introduce myself and tell him if he has questions, he can come to me.”
I’d like to find out what this guy wants. Over the years, there have been a few individuals interested in buying me out. Heck, I’ve even had a well-known chain restaurant try and sway me with a wad of cash, but I’ve given up a lot to keep this pub in the family and I’m not about to change that over a fat wallet. Those only last so long.
I close the door to my office to call Tim. He’s on the ball team but works for the city of Portland in the Economic Development Department. He might be able to find out if there are sharks circling.
When my door opens a bit later, Viv catches me stifling a yawn. I’m wiped already and the evening rush, which is always busiest on a Friday night, hasn’t even started yet. Traveling and the abrupt temperature change is getting to me. Fuck, I’m getting old.
“Tired?”
Viv sits down in the chair across from me.
“A bit. Just got off the phone with Tim. Matt and Denise told me about the guy who’s been asking questions about the pub. Reminded me a bit of when Red Lobster sent someone over here to try and convince me to sell. Tim’s gonna see if he can find out if there’ve been any applications for business licenses or anything else to see if someone is interested in setting up shop here. I’m not afraid of competition; hell, most of the time I think it’d be good for a few more places to open up around here and help draw crowds, but I don’t like the focus on this particular pub.” I run my hand through my already mussed up hair, trying to stifle another massive yawn, unsuccessfully.
“Yeah. It made me a little uncomfortable when I heard too. I’m sure if there’s anything to find out, Tim will, but tell me about your trip? How was your mom? Did you have a good time?”
I give Viv one of my rare smiles before answering. She is probably the one person I can trust completely. Known her forever and I’m glad she stuck it out here ‘cause I couldn’t ask for a better manager, hands down. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about her. She’s like my little sister. We were neighbors growing up and since I’ve been friends with her oldest brother since elementary school, she’s been part of my life too. Went through some shit a few years back, but she’s come out stronger on the other side. Still, I’d like to see her find a life—maybe some happiness—outside of The Skipper. I have my kids to drag me out of my routine from time to time, but Viv just sticks close to the pub and her family.
“Was good. She’s living it up with her daily yoga classes and her bridge club. I don’t think the kids came out of the pool for more than meals, so they were happy. As for me, it was good to see her. I’m glad she’s made a good life for herself there, but I was pretty happy when it came time to come home. Fuck-all to do but sit around, and that gets me antsy. She did want me to ask you when she can expect your visit.”
Viv chuckles, “Incorrigible; that’s your mom. Maybe one of these days.”
“So tell me about this new employee of ours?”
“Syd? Yesterday morning Maria calls me to say she was quitting. She found another job with a hotel up the coast and she gets full-time hours there. Not happy about her leaving me high and dry with no notice, but what can you do? Can’t blame her for trying to find a job that gives her more hours. I just wish she’d given me some notice. Anyway, I happened to bump into Syd—who I’ve seen around from time to time—and we got to talking. Long story short, she was able to start right away and so far, she’s working out great.”
As soon as Viv starts talking about the new employee, her eyes turn to the window, as if she doesn’t want to look me in the eye when talking about her. I’m not getting the full story here, but I trust Viv’s judgement. Not bothering to try and pry more information out of her, instead I voice my concern over the small woman in the men’s room.
“She doesn’t look too healthy to me. You sure she’s up to the physical labor?”
At this, Viv’s eyes return to mine. “Positive. She’ll work out fine. She’s had a bit of a rough go of it, but with some decent meals and a job, she’ll be on her feet in no time. She worked hard today and you don’t have to worry about her because she’s coming in on my shift.”
I give her a long hard look, making sure she gets the message that I know she’s holding back on me before responding.
“I’ll leave her in your capable hands then.”
The small smile sliding over her face confirms that somehow, the wool has just been pulled over my eyes, but I’m too tired to care ... much.
CHAPTER FOUR
Syd
“I’d better go,” I say to Viv when she pulls me out of the washroom. No way in hell can I stay.
“Nonsense. His bark is worse than his bite. I just never got the chance to warn him.”
She pulls me into the kitchen and pushes me down into a chair.
“Look. He usually doesn’t get here until after three o’clock. You won’t even have to bump into him. You’ll see, it’ll be fine.”
The next thing I know I hear him clear his throat behind me before he launches into a rather rambled apology. At least that’s what I think it is. I have a hard time hearing anything he says because I’m drawn to his eyes; deep green and sincere. As mesmerizing as they are, I pull my eyes away and focus on the ground instead for fear of losing myself. I don’t like the unsettled feeling he gives me, although I have to admit, I’m not really scared of him.
When he calls my name, I slowly lift my head to meet his gaze, which hasn’t left me. I can feel it. Noticing the hand he has stretched out, curiosity has me reaching out mine. It disappears in his large calloused one and I respond to the pressure of his hand by giving a little squeeze back, trying very hard to ignore the feeling of hot tingles spreading over my skin.
“You okay?” Viv immediately checks when he’s gone from the kitchen.
“I’m fine.”
Biggest cop-out response of the century, but effective because she doesn’t push. Instead, she suggests I grab a plate of food before I’m done for the day. By the time I leave through the back door of The Skipper—back in my familiar and musty smelling garb—I’m a little sore from the physical activities, but I’m showered and I’ve got a full stomach. I’m pretty confident I’ll be back tomorrow ... I think.
The two days I’ve been off have been so long and boring, I’m actually glad when Tuesday morning comes around.
Funny how you spend years not talking to anyone, not socializing, and being perfec
tly content to be that way, to get it and realizing you want that connection.
Viv has been incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone like her before, not even in my past life. She doesn’t seem to care that I have little or nothing to say and is content carrying entire conversations virtually solo. I find myself craving the sound of her voice. It shuts up the ones in my head; the ones that constantly try to remind me of things I’d rather forget.
This past Saturday I’d been back, even though I wasn’t sure I would be until the back door shut behind me. Viv was there, ushering me up the stairs so I could change and encouraged me to use the shower if I wanted to. I did. Things like standing in a stream of warm water or eating hot food were at some point in my life taken for granted, but not anymore. I struggle with the feelings of guilt, the sense that I don’t deserve to feel ‘good’, but the lure for some comfort is too great so I push those feelings back.
Saturday was uneventful. When Denise and Matt arrived, they simply called out a ‘hello’, but dove straight into their tasks. Thank God for that. I’d rather be left to my own devices. To be around other people continuously and have to interact is a bit overwhelming. So much so that by the time the end of my shift came, I was looking forward to two days of solitude and silence, only to find myself missing the human contact.
The back door is open and as instructed by Viv, I simply enter and head upstairs to shower and get changed. Blissfully warm and clean in my uniform of jeans and T-shirt, I walk in the kitchen to find Viv already at work on the kitchen prep.
“Hi,” I mutter, still a bit hesitant about using my voice.
“Oh hey, Syd. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us in the kitchen. Tuesday mornings, we get most of our standard deliveries for the week. The beer truck will get here first and usually our other suppliers come just before the lunch hour. After the washrooms, do you think you can go through the produce and see what needs to be tossed? I’d like to try and clean the shelves a little before the fresh load comes in.”
I simply nod. I was in the cold pantry, off the side of kitchen, on Saturday to grab some more onions for the prep. A long narrow space with stainless steel shelving on either side, the smell reminded me of damp earth and fresh cut grass. I didn’t mind being in there. I’ve been surrounded by the smells of the wharf for so long now—fish, stale water, wet wood and rotting garbage—the earthy scent from the produce is a welcome change.
The morning goes by fast with cleaning and the constant flow of suppliers. Beer kegs, boxes of liquor, crates of fish, meat, and any other staples of food are brought in through the back door. I’m dodging strange men left, right, and center, but can’t escape the curious looks. Managing to avoid small talk, I hide mostly in the pantry. I’m cleaning when the door opens and a man carrying a crate of vegetables walks in. The moment he spots me, he squints his eyes with a smirk on his pockmarked face and lets the door fall shut behind him. A little panicked, I look over his shoulder to the door and at the same time, back up until I feel the cold wall against my back.
“Well hello. Haven’t seen you before. Why are you hiding in here?”
His voice is surprisingly high-pitched, but with a thick Boston accent. I don’t like the look in his dark eyes. He looks ... predatory. My mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to formulate the right words to get me out of here, but nothing comes out. This is not my first rodeo, I’ve been accosted before, but usually outside where I had room to maneuver. Here I have my back against the wall and my only escape route is behind the man in front of me.
“Cat got your tongue, or can’t you talk?” he says, looking me over from top to bottom while licking his already wet lips. The moment he steps forward, I try to duck around him, but he grabs a handful of my shirt and yanks me to a halt. “In a rush?” he whispers, using his body to push me back against the wall, trying to push his hips between mine. I turn my face to the side to avoid the stench coming from his mouth and survival instinct takes over. With both hands, I push at his chest, but even though he isn’t that big, I can’t seem to move him, and it only makes him chuckle.
“Come on now, sweet thing. Don’t play hard to get.” He coos as he grabs my hands and holds them tight over my head in one hand while the other starts kneading my breast. At the same time I pull up my knee, the door swings open. There is no way I can stop the momentum and my knee makes solid contact with his crotch. He lets go of my hands instantly as he doubles over.
“You fucking kidding me?” I hear Gunnar’s voice from the doorway. Next thing I know, the creep is being yanked back and out of the pantry, but before I can catch a breath, the sound of fists flying registers and I rush into the kitchen where Gunnar is pounding on the guy.
“Stop!” My voice is barely above a whisper, but Gunnar hears it. With his fist poised to strike again, he stops and looks at me, dropping the delivery guy to the floor with blood streaming from his nose. Stepping over him, Gunnar is in front of me with his hands on my shoulders, checking me for injury as he slides his hands down my arms. An involuntary shiver runs through me.
“Did he touch you?”
The small shake of my head has him squinting his eyes.
“Don’t lie to me,” he says, lifting my wrists where red marks were already forming, gently brushing his thumbs over the red, and soon to be bruised skin.
“What the fuck is all this ruckus?” Viv comes barreling into the kitchen, taking one look at the guy on the floor and then up at Gunnar. “What did Jack do now?”
“I didn’t do anything,” the muffled voice comes from the floor. “I was just putting away your supplies when that crazy mute bitch kneed me in the nuts. I didn’t do anything!”
The word ‘crazy’ is like a red flag to a bull for me and I yank my hands from Gunnar’s careful hold and step over to Jack, who is starting to sit up. I plant one sneakered foot on his crotch and lean down.
“I’m not crazy, you dirty sleaze bag!” I spit out, so angry I almost miss the look of surprise on his face. “And as you can tell, I’m not mute either, asshole.” I push my foot down just a bit until I see his grimace.
No more surprise on his face, but I see pure anger, and it’s directed straight at me.
“Whoa, little bird.” Gunnar’s voice sounds close to my ear as he steps up behind me with his arm around my waist and easily lifts me a few steps away. “Want to file assault charges?”
My heart stops in my throat. Hell no. That would require filing a police report and the implication of that is not something I’m willing to consider. I vehemently shake my head no, struggling a bit against the strong band of his arm still wrapped around me. He lets me go but immediately turns me around to face him. He dips down and looks me straight in the eyes. “You sure?”
“Positive,” I whisper.
“You okay?” Viv asks, putting a mug of warm tea in front of me and a hand on my shoulder. All this touching. I forgot the feelings it could evoke from revulsion, to heat, and finally to comfort. I almost wanted to curl into the safety of Gunnar’s arms earlier and now I find myself leaning into Viv’s touch; almost starving for affection like a neglected dog.
Years of frozen emotions are starting to thaw and the process is almost painful. How long has it been since someone cared? How long since I cared? It’s been safer not to—to keep enforced walls up and people out—but this place, these people, are crumbling my walls.
“I’m fine.” Again with the ‘fine.’
“Jack’s tried shit before with me first, and then once with Denise, but that was nipped in the bud. I guess catching you alone in the pantry was too much of an opportunity for the bastard to pass up on.” She sits down across from me and eyes me with concern. “Gunnar called his boss. Told him he was lucky we weren’t filing charges against his employee. He was promised that Jack Barnes would no longer be an issue.”
“I can handle him,” I say with much more bravado than I feel.
“I’m sure you can. That was the most I’ve heard you say in one
stretch, when you were crushing his measly balls with your foot.” She snickers at the memory. “He’s hopefully learned his lesson. Still, I’m glad Gunnar was here to help with deliveries. The frying pan I would’ve used on him would probably have made a mess.”
The rest of my shift goes by without a hitch. After I put the last of the cleaning supplies back in the closet, I head for the kitchen where Viv and Matt are sitting at the table, having a late lunch by the look of things.
“Come sit down before you head out, Syd. Grab a bite with us. You haven’t had anything yet either.” Viv motions to one of the chairs. I feel Matt’s eyes on me as I slide into the seat opposite him. We haven’t really exchanged any words since I was introduced to him, other than a ‘hi’ in passing.
“Want some fish stew?”
On my nod, Viv ladles some of the fragrant stew in a big bowl and my stomach growls audibly.
“That hungry, huh?” Matt chuckles beside me and I can’t help but to smile and shrug at him.
“So, I heard what happened this morning. That’s crazy. Did he hurt you?”
Before I get a chance to answer that, Gunnar walks into the kitchen, his face full of rage.
“That bitch,” he spits out before plunking down on the chair beside me. I freeze on the spot at his proximity.
“Who, Cindy? What’s she done now?” Viv asks while sliding the steaming bowl in front of me. “Eat,” she nudges me.
“She’s bailing on her week with the kids. Bitch can’t even make it a full week before dumping them again. Emmy has a play at school tonight her mom promised to go to. She was so excited to show her, but now Cindy’s saying ‘something important’ came up and she has to go out of town and won’t be able to make it. She’s dropping the kids off here after school with all their stuff, leaving me to deal with the fallout, as usual.” He rakes his hand through the unruly hair he seems prone to and sighs deeply. “And the fucking babysitter is out of town until the end of the week.”
