Just a City Boy (Midnight Train Series)

by V. L. Holt

  He snorted.

  “I’m good,” he said.

  “Now that we got those details out of the way, what’s your name?” I asked him. “I can’t call you Sugar all night,” I explained.

  “Zack Daniels,” he answered.

  I laughed.

  “Before you make a joke, I’ve heard them all,” he said.

  I covered my mouth with my hand and chuckled some more, careful not to get Fire Engine Red on my fingers.

  “What’s your name, Doll?” he asked next, teasing me.

  “Lauren,” I said. I didn’t think we were at a last name basis yet. Although I seriously doubted this guy was going to rush home to his Facebook account and look me up to send a friend request. I hadn’t seen him pull a phone out this entire time. Honestly, it was refreshing. So many guys at Lazy Eye’s would use their phones with a cute girl sitting across from them. Sometimes the girl would have her phone out too, but lots of times they sat staring at the guy, thirsting for eye contact.

  I peeked over at his profile. My first impression of him had been that he was movie star gorgeous. I wasn’t wrong. His side view was equally mesmerizing. Perfectly shaped nose, proportioned jaw, long eyelashes. He was better looking than a winning touchdown in the last five seconds of the game.

  “Why’d you try to mug me?” I decided to ask before we got all cozy at the place where we were going.

  He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He quirked his mouth and looked at me.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You wanted change for the arcade.”

  He smiled a little and sighed but didn’t start walking. He looked everywhere but at me.

  “Let’s just say it was simultaneously the stupidest and best thing I’ve ever done and leave it at that,” he said. He looked me in the eye then, and appeared to be waiting for something. Maybe he was waiting for me to walk off without him?

  I put a hand on my jutted hip and stared back.

  “I guess that explanation will have to do for now,” I said. “Because I really want that coffee and I’m starting to get cold.” We resumed our walk. The place I was headed was called Jack’s. They had coffee, but they also had all night karaoke, and that was exactly what I wanted to do to wind down before I finally headed home.

  We got to the brown brick building with a metal door. The surrounding area had middle class retail shops mingled with a Starbucks, a Kinkos and a fire station. Nothing special.

  But when I opened the metal door and walked in first, I got that thrill I always got when I stepped into the haze of cheap dry ice smoke and bad lighting. A Croatian lady was on stage right now, butchering an old Elvis favorite. Her name was Ana and she only sang Blue Suede Shoes. The crowd at this hour was not picky though. Jack’s served drinks too, not just coffee.

  I walked to my favorite table with Zack right behind me. I stood at a chair and waited. He stood too, looking at me.

  “The chair?” I asked him.

  A blank look.

  I was fine to wait until he figured it out.

  Finally it dawned on him to pull my chair out for me, and I made a show of adjusting my waitress skirt just right. I hung my purse strap on my knee so my bag floated above the floor. I could barely handle putting my own shoe soles on it and I worked in a dive.

  Zack and I watched Ana while we waited for a server.

  Finally Jack came around…no, not that Jack, and asked what we’d be having.

  I was curious what Zack would choose. Wondered if he could even pay? Whatever. There were worse uses for my collection of quarters, dimes, nickels and yes, pennies. Who left pennies for tips? Jackasses, that’s who.

  Jack took my order first.

  “Hey honey girl, it’s been a little while,” Jack said in his effeminate voice.

  I smiled at him, feeling a little like I came home.

  “It has. I had stuff going on,” I said.

  “Well, you look fabulous as usual,” he said. “What brand of lipstick is that? That color would look great on my partner,” he said.

  “It’s Gerard. I got it online,” I said and smiled at him holding my nails up to my face to show the matching polish.

  He fanned himself.

  “Girl, put out the fire!” he said laughing.

  “I’ll have a coffee, black,” Zack butted in.

  Jack and I turned to look at him. Jack spoke first,

  “Little boy, you need to learn Lauren’s Southern manners,” he said. “Since she came to town, she has taught us all,” he gestured around the scattered people in the small joint. “How to slow down a little, and appreciate the finer things in life, like conversation and humanity.”

  I smiled at my friend.

  “Thank you, Jack. Zackory here practically saved my life tonight, so I can accept he needs his coffee right away. I’ll have the usual. Just put it on my tab?” I asked him.

  Jack bowed to Zack.

  “Apologies, noble knight,” he said with a flourish and left to get our coffees.

  Zack looked at me with a raised brow.

  “He’s a displaced actor in a rocky relationship,” I said with a shrug.

  “Zackory?” he asked.

  “It’s a Southern thing,” I said, then turned to see the next karaoke singer.

  This was Geoffrey. He was very good, and I turned my chair so I could hear him croon a Seal song.

  I found myself closing my eyes and swaying a little to the music. Crazy sounded even better coming from Geoffrey’s smooth pipes.

  Jack came and left our coffees without disturbing me in my trance. I would be able to go home tonight. It might take an hour or so, but I could do it. I could.

  Zack cleared his throat.

  “Mmhm?” I asked him, my eyes still closed.

  “You come here a lot then?” he asked.

  I sighed and turned to face him.

  “Okay, stupid question,” he admitted. He gestured to Geoffrey. “Do you sing too?”

  I nodded and smiled.

  He gave me his second smile of the night. “I would love to hear that,” he said.

  “Oh you will, darlin’,” I told him. “You will.”

  Chapter Four

  Zack resisted the urge to tap his feet impatiently under the table. He wasn’t accustomed to sitting still. He didn’t like the hazy atmosphere, even though it wasn’t actually smoke, and he didn’t like his seat. He should just get up and switch chairs so that his back was to the wall so he could see everyone in the room. Lots of people changed their minds about where to sit. He was certain Lauren would think nothing of it. But something held him in place. He couldn’t put his finger on it though. Unless…he wanted to make a good first impression?

  What a dolt he was. He’d already blown his first impression. In spades. He was such dumbass. He felt his headache coming back.

  He wanted to hear her sing, but the atmosphere was getting to him.

  His head jerked up at the thought. If it was coming back, that meant it was gone for a few minutes. In fact, it had dissipated as soon as they’d begun walking to this place. She seemed to keep it at bay. Interesting.

  He massaged his temples while she seemed lost in the music.

  Her voice broke through his clouded thoughts.

  “Hey, you okay Zack? You were doing that back at Grand Circus too,” she said.

  Damn Grand Circus. He would never get off at that stupid stop again.

  “Listen, Lauren,” he said, dropping his hands from his head.

  “This was real nice. But I gotta get going. You’re uh…” he licked his lips and looked at her hair, and her face and her red lips and her trim waist, and the label on her uniform: Lazy Eye’s. “A real special lady. I’m glad I got to meet you. Even if it was, uh, less than ideal circumstances,” he finished.

  His headache was getting worse. He took a long swallow of his coffee, fished in his pocket for a five dollar bill and laid it on the table.

  “Thanks for everything,” he said with a nod, and wa
lked out of the joint, dodging chairs that blocked his path. The haze lessened near the door, the sounds of the music faded and then he was out in the September night.

  He walked briskly toward the People Mover. He would get on again. But he still couldn’t go home.

  Footsteps pattered behind him. Quiet heavy soles. Like a waitress’ supportive sneakers. He turned slowly to see Lauren running toward him with her heavy bag bouncing against her hip. Her and that monster purse. He waited.

  She reached him, panting a little.

  “You have PTSD, don’t you?” She asked him.

  Unbelievable. She’d known him about one hour. Was it really that transparent? Did he have a freaking sign on his back? L-O-S-E-R. He should have business cards printed out. Can’t hold his liquor. Can’t piss in a cup. Can’t hold down a job. Can’t even mug a princess in the middle of the night with no witnesses. He cursed.

  He swallowed his pride. He laughed without humor. He had no pride, apparently.

  “How could you tell?” he asked her while staring at her server shoes.

  I closed my eyes for just second. Should I say anything? I decided I could.

  “Well, my daddy was ex-military. Granddaddy was military too. I noticed your posture back at the station. You were ready to fight. Except I weigh about 120 pounds soakin’ wet, so it’s not like you needed to fight me. Then when I started talking at you and trying to get you to stop pointing that baby gun at me, you acted all…disoriented. And the headaches…and I’m sorry, I really should have known better about that karaoke club. It just didn’t occur to me until you ran out. Your face was as pale as a Yankee’s neck after a haircut. Then it hit me,” she said. “You’re having panic attacks. Whatever drove you to the station to mug somebody must have been brought on by one too. They must be getting worse,” she said. Then she did something completely unexpected. She came right up to him and held her arms outstretched.

  “Let me give you a hug. You need to feel safe,” she said in a soft Southern lilt.

  He looked at her. Her eyes were all dolled up with mascara and eyeliner; her cheeks were flushed from her jog and the cold weather. Her lips were still red as a fire truck, and there was sheen to her eyes. Was she going to shed a tear for him? He couldn’t tell if he felt pathetic or grateful. And he could not move a single step toward her apple-pie hug, though a deep yearning screamed out from his heart muscle. Go to her. Go to her! He couldn’t do it, though he wanted to.

  He felt her gaze. She must have determined her hug was crucial to his humanity. She stepped toward him and pulled him into her sphere.

  Her sphere was a cloud of autumn. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of her scent. She smelled of apples and cinnamon, dry leaves and wet grass and the first snow on a Halloween night.

  Broken and invisibly battered, Zack crumpled in her arms and received the hug she gave him, though his arms hung at his sides.

  She squeezed him tight, and then he found his arms wrapping around her as well, enclosing her warmth in a capsule made by his arms and coat to be kept and cherished when he needed it again.

  When they let go together and pulled away, they both had wet faces.

  Embarrassed, Zack mopped his face with the bottom of his black shirt. He couldn’t look her in the eye. How could he when he’d debased himself by trying to mug her and failing, and by running out of Jack’s like a pantywaist? He felt her hand on his chin. She guided his face down toward hers, so he was forced to make eye contact.

  “Never be ashamed to ask for help. It’s wonderful to be able to do things yourself, but there will always come a time when you need a hand up. It’s okay to ask. Then people know what to do to help you,” she said.

  She stepped back though and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. Mama always told me I got into other people’s business too much,” she laughed a little and put her hand behind her neck and gave him a wry smile.

  He nodded at her. She was so giving. He was deeply ashamed at what he’d almost done earlier tonight. While it was miraculous that it didn’t end up worse for either of them, he didn’t see how he could ever spend time in her presence now. She was like sunshine through the rain, the sheen on a plum, the sparkle off lake water on a warm summer day. He was like the storm cloud that ruined the church picnic.

  He had to get out outta here.

  “Thanks, Lauren,” he told her. He met her gaze briefly, just long enough to see her warm hazel eyes and a tuft of curly hair blow into her face before she tucked it behind an ear. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” he told her.

  Was that hope he caught slipping across her expression? Of course not, he told himself. He was the one thinking he had the right to hope for something more.

  He turned and headed for the train station again.

  Maybe he wasn’t going home tonight, but he wasn’t going to do anything else stupid for at least twenty four hours. He’d catch the train and maybe go see a buddy.

  But first he was going to stop in that drug store they’d passed and get some pain reliever. His headache was coming back with the force of a freight train.

  This time when he stalked away, she didn’t come after him. It was just as well. For the both of them, but probably mostly for her. He would only bring darkness to her life.

  He found his head pain lessened though, when he imagined her singing on stage at Jack’s, her red lips moving to some love song, and her hips gently swaying in her waitress uniform. He wondered what she sounded like.

  He didn’t look back.

  Chapter Five

  I watched him go. Mama’s voice echoed in my ears about all the times I was snooping in other people’s lives, that I should act like a lady, that I should let the boy come to me, that I talked too much, that I always attracted the crazies and the strays. In the midst of that din, I held back, even though every fiber of my being wanted to go after Zack one last time and hold him close.

  Pain radiated out from him in waves. His head, his heart. I never could stand to see anything or anybody suffer. I remembered that duckling I found by the watering hole, its beak broken halfway off so that his tongue was visible. I wanted to nurse it to health, but Mama wasn’t having it. “What kind of a future does it have? His beak won’t grow back!” She’d said, and I had carried it in a pouch made by my shirt back to the watering hole. I stayed and played with it all afternoon while the summer sun slowly crept lower in the sky. I dug in the wet ground for worms and grubs, and fed the duck and petted it and loved on it. It followed me around, much to my girlish delight. At dusk I knew I had to get home or face Daddy’s wrath. I tried to get Ducky to stay back, but it kept following me. That dumb old duck. I shook off the memory and watched Zack Daniels, ex-military vet.

  He walked through the light and dark of streetlight circles on the street, a lonely figure though he was strong and tall.

  I wondered which branch of the military he’d served in. I wondered if he’d lost a friend or several. Mostly I wondered how on earth I was going to find him again in this broken down city full of lost souls.

  I clenched my fists at my side, one of my hands gripping my purse handle. I would not chase after him again. No. I would turn around and go inside and finish my coffee, and sing a love song, and then I would catch the next train and go home and be a big girl.

  And that’s what I did.

  Chapter Six

  Tiredly, I dragged my butt up the stairs to my crappy apartment. I’d waited all this time. My hands were a little shaky as I fumbled with the keys.

  Would he still be there? I knew the answer as soon as I asked it.

  I opened the door, surveyed the room.

  Yep. He was zonked out on the couch, snoring as loud as a kazoo factory in a windstorm. I stood in the doorway, as if that limbo held me hostage.

  I finally broke the threads and stepped over the threshold, holding my keys in my palm so they didn’t jangle. Closing the door quietly behind me, I stepped out of my shoes; all the while keeping my eyes fixed on
the man whose legs overflowed the sofa by a couple feet. Still he slept, and I padded down the hall to my room, silently closing the door and turning the lock.

  He’d said he would be gone by the time I got back, but I knew it was a lie.

  My ex-boyfriend was the biggest mooch this side of the river, and he told me he was moving out three months ago. Not a rent check or a grocery bag had been offered in return for room and board, and the only thing I lacked in order to kick him out was a spine.

  I turned on my little bed lamp, preferring the softer glow to the overhead light that flickered and gave me a headache. I scooted around my room, picking up laundry, straightening books and magazines, and stacking dishes on the breakfast tray. I had taken to eating in here on my days off, in order to avoid the lump that would not leave.

  Mama was right, of course. I never could say no to strays. Only this one I had thought I loved at first. He was funny and cute as a button, but don’t get him drinking. Once I realized his drinking was making him meaner than cat dirt, I told him to get his ass out of my apartment.

  He made a show of chucking out every bottle of alcohol and pouring beer down the sink. But he still wouldn’t leave. He didn’t give me a speech about how he loved me and would I take him back…he just…never left.

  Now that my room was tidy, I could relax before falling asleep. Tomorrow was my day off, a perk of pulling a double shift. I would watch a little boob tube or read a magazine article and hit the hay.

  In the middle of an old black and white movie, a soft tapping came at my door.

  “What do you want, Ray?” I asked him.

  “Can I come in?” He asked.

  “No,” I said. I heard his heavy footfalls retreat from the door. He did this every freaking night. Honestly, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to get rid of this guy. Pest control? It was a thought. I was only a tiny bit afraid of him, especially since he quit drinking. Well, he quit drinking in my apartment. I had no idea if he drank when he went out. But he was twice my size and not really itching to get moving anywhere, anytime soon. I’d already told him to get out and he didn’t go. What was there to do next?