by Margot Fox
Within a half hour, everything was going along just as she thought it would. She glanced up every time the door opened, expecting to see Grant. Instead it was always just more regulars, with a few strange faces here and there.
Keeping herself busy with normal bar functions, Tesa smiled and joked and listened to the complaints of the normal group of folks you would expect in a roadhouse situated between county highways. People bitching about the government, people bitching about the TV. People bitching about sports. People bitching about some grudge or another that they had held for anywhere between an afternoon and twenty-five years.
The hours flew by, with Tesa feeling more comfortable and easy-going as the night wore on. It seemed that her strategy of smile and offer a free drink every once in a while was working pretty well. Even the old records on the jukebox seemed to be helping. When everybody broke out and started singing along with “Sweet Caroline” she joined in enthusiastically.
Bahm! Bahm! Bahmmmmmm!
She caught a few smiles, a few approving nods. Even though she was the new girl, the outsider in Bernie’s honkytonk bar, it seemed like she had won at least a few of them over. It felt pretty good.
CHAPTER 2
At nearly closing time, about half the people had filed out, and Tesa announced last call at the top of her lungs. She spotted slicked back, dark hair out of the corner of her eye and sighed in frustration. Draughting a light beer into a pint glass, she knocked the drink loudly on the bar and pushed her weight toward one hip.
“ Finally —” she started.
The man turned toward her, raising his hand in a gesture to push his hair back from his eyes. His gaze was fierce and sudden, with unblinking, copper-colored eyes that startled her. She heard herself gasp as though from far away.
“Oh… Oh, I'm sorry,” she mumbled, backing away with her hands up. “I thought you were somebody else. I thought — oh, nevermind. You’re definitely not him.”
He quirked an eyebrow that looked defined and sculpted like a woman's. Tesa swallowed hard as she drank in the details of him — the sharp white collar, the angle of his jaw, the cut of his wool suit coat… the total lack of any wedding ring.
“Waiting for someone?” he said in a voice that almost seemed too low to be heard.
“Um, yes,” she stammered. “Well, no. I mean I was. I mean, I think he’s not coming. Usually he does but not today.”
Shut up! You’re babbling! she yelled at herself.
“A lover?” the man asked just as the music stopped playing.
Tesa’s breath caught in her throat. Was he? Her mind flipped through an immediate video montage of the last few months with Grant. He’d given her a place to stay, and she’d been... grateful . Did that make them lovers? Or was he just her landlord with benefits? He was just a guy, and she could barely remember the details of his face.
He had definitely fit what she was looking for — a lonely guy with a flexible attitude about cohabitation. Not mean. Not violent or demanding. Just needy enough that she could easily find ways to make herself useful to him. Do the laundry. Clean the fridge. Smile sometimes.
But was that a relationship or a business arrangement? She really didn’t find herself too disappointed that he hadn’t shown up, and he obviously didn’t feel like he had to. So… what did that mean?
“No,” she answered finally. “Just waiting for a… a friend.”
“I see,” he nodded.
He didn’t seem to blink. She watched him carefully, watched his eyelids close only slightly. When she felt herself squint, she realized she was staring rudely and shifted her attention to the beer he wasn’t touching.
“You can just have the drink… Go ahead and keep it. On the house.”
He looked at her for a few more seconds before dropping his gaze to the beer and then immediately back up to her. She scanned his face intently for signs of expression — was that a little hint of a smile? Probably not, she decided. He seemed incredibly calm, like the face of the moon.
“No, I don't think I will,” he murmured.
“You don't think… what?” she asked, confused. Her eyes flickered around the bar and she noted several people were ready to leave, and a couple had just let the door close behind them. In moments she would be alone with him.
Or, not exactly. There was another man in the corner with his back to her. She hoped he wasn’t going to be one of those guys who thought closing time didn’t apply to him.
“No, I don't think I will have that beer,” the man said slowly, enunciating the words as though allowing her to keep up. “Do you have anything finer?”
Finer? Okay, that was a weird word to use. What was he expecting out here in the middle of nowhere? Champagne?
“Hmm, I think I might have a bottle of decent scotch in the storeroom. Do you want me to go check?” she asked in a hurry. His gaze didn't waver, just simmered like he was on a slow burn. “Or, maybe some, uh, wine or something? No, nevermind, the wine we’ve got is terrible. I mean, what do you want?”
His eyes dropped briefly, tracing the outer edge of her arm and lingering at the new badge on her wrist. Tesa followed his eyes and saw that she must've been rubbing or scratching at it without even knowing it. The edges were red and inflamed.
For some reason she felt embarrassed about that, as though he'd caught her in a state of undress. She covered it with her other hand and dropped both her arms behind the bar where he couldn't see them.
“Did that hurt?”
“Did it hurt?” she repeated vaguely, spinning around and sweeping her eyes along the rows of bottles.
What was she supposed to give him that would qualify as “finer?” What looked expensive? Hennessey? Maybe one of those bourbons everybody was so eager to try?
She plucked one off the rail and turned back around, then immediately flinched as another man sat next to the first. Her eyes automatically went to the corner where she had just seen someone with his back to her, figuring it was him.
The front bell jingled as the door closed. They were the only three people in the bar now.
The new fellow flared his nostrils and looked at the bottle of bourbon in her hand. Tesa automatically scowled at his pompous glare of obvious disapproval.
“Oh no, I think not,” the second man chuckled as though it should have been obvious.
“Yeah, well, what do you want?” she snapped, surprising herself at how instantly her tone had gone from baffled to irritable. Despite herself, she glanced back at the first man to see if he had any reaction. There was none.
Well, shit. The first interesting thing that's happened to me all night has to be at closing time? This figures, she thought to herself wryly.
“Can you drink tequila?” the second man asked.
Tesa sighed through her nose. Jerks who thought they were funny at closing time were her least favorite kind of jerks. She narrowed her eyes at him, taking him in more briefly than she had the first man. He was taller, she was almost sure though they were both seated. Similar dark hair. His shirt had a subtle, shimmery pattern and he had no suit jacket, giving an overall less formal impression.
Douche , she decided immediately.
“What don’t you just worry about what you want to drink, okay?”
“What's your name?” the first man asked.
Tesa turned to him with relief. While the second man inexplicably grated on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard, the first man had some kind of soothing thing going on. Just staring at him made her feel like she was watching a clock pendulum go back and forth, or watching the ocean waves rolling.
Don't tell them. Just give them a drink and get them on their way and go home, she told herself.
“Tesa,” she answered anyway, baffled as the word slipped from her lips. “Um. Do you also want tequila?”
He folded his hands on the bar, lacing his fingers together elegantly.
“That would be fine,” he said in a voice that sounded quite pleased. “How long have yo
u worked here, Tesa?”
She shrugged, running her recent history through her mind. For a second, it occurred to her to lie, but then she couldn't think of a good reason to lie so she just didn't bother putting one together. Turning two shot glasses up on the bar, she grabbed the stainless shaker and dumped some ice in so she could chill the shots.
“Oh, no no no,” the second man sneered. “We're not doing shots, are we? Surely?”
“Well, I asked you what you wanted,” she huffed, knuckling her hip and glaring right at him.
Oh my God, I must be tired. Why is this guy getting on so much of my nerves?
The second man held his hands up as though she was pointing a gun at him.
“I just don't want to be choking back a shot like some kind of college kid. Tequila is an elegant drink, Tesa. Centuries old, as dignified as any whiskey or scotch you might have. Maybe a glass? With ice? You know how to do that?”
Just ignore him! If this jerk wants to make a rocks drink out of a tequila shot, who am I to argue? Just do it and let's get this over with, she told herself.
Turning to face the first man, she took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
“Will that be all right with you? A rocks glass?” she asked him, and only him.
He seemed to allow his eyes to crinkle at the corners and nodded briefly. “Only if you join us, my dear,” he purred. “Did you say that you are new here?”
“Well I didn't say, actually,” she reminded him absentmindedly. She dropped a few cubes into the bottom of each of three short glasses and poured a healthy shot on top. She figured that could knock it back pretty quickly, and then get these guys out of her hair. And, besides, a little bit of tequila might do something for her attitude problem.
She plucked the glass up from the bar and held it to her lips. “ Skal .”
As she tilted her head back, she noticed them both watching her with intense interest. She downed half of it and placed the glass back on the bar, noting that neither of them had touched theirs.
“What a charming toast,” the first man nodded. “Scandinavian, is it?”
She shrugged and swirled the pale liquor in the glass. “Not sure, really. Just something to say.”
“Ah,” he replied, casting an eye toward his companion.
Raising an eyebrow, Tesa tried to control her attitude problem by feeling the warmth spreading through her chest and belly. That was a pretty good feeling, she had to acknowledge. Tequila really should be savored, now that she thought of it. But why weren’t they drinking?
She shook her head and opened her palms as if to say, what are you waiting for? And then she remembered she'd been asked a question.
“Oh… Yeah, right… Okay. I've only been here a few weeks. A couple months. Or so. Why?”
“I see,” nodded the first man. “And where were you before that?”
The second man took the bottle off the bar and tipped it, refilling her glass to just a half an inch below the rim. She scowled at it.
“I hope you’re gonna pay for that,” she huffed.
“Oh, most certainly, sweet cheeks,” the second man chortled.
“I already told you my name, and it is definitely not ‘sweet cheeks,’” she grumbled as she picked up the glass and took another healthy swallow. It was going to take quite a lot of warm, soothing liquor to make that guy seem tolerable.
The first man was peering at her intently when she set the glass down.
“Oh… Okay, you’re waiting for me to tell you more?”
He nodded. She searched her memory, trying to come up with a short version of her history. All the places and people seemed to fall together like dominoes in a pile. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense.
She waved her hand in front of her as though brushing away the images, all confused and jumbled by the tequila. “Before this I guess…” she started, then sighed. “Well, all these places are the same, aren't they? Does it matter?”
“Are you sure you remember?” the second man sneered.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
And there it was. The first man's face broke into a smile. She stared at him as it happened, noting how the muscles rearranged themselves around his eyes and mouth to allow it to occur. There was something magnificent about it, like watching a flock of starlings take flight and darken the sky.
“Oh, indeed,” he said with the sound that absolutely had to be laughter, she was sure of it. But nothing like laughter she ever heard before. It seemed to have a sense of mirth in it, but that wasn't all. “All these places are very much the same.”
“You said it, brother,” she sighed, feeling suddenly quite thick in her limbs. She shifted her weight to her other foot and arched her back, stretching as subtly as she could.
“And is this what you have been doing since you got here? Working here?”
She nodded and picked her wrist up off the bar, squinting ruefully at the badge. “Well, they finally made me get one of these, so I guess I got that done too.”
“Yes, that is interesting,” the first man said. “I thought it was compulsory for the last several years. Especially, if you’ll forgive me, for someone of your age…”
“Naw, she doesn’t look that old to me,” the second man said.
Tesa shot him a look as he tipped the bottle over and refilled her glass yet again. She picked it up automatically and turned her attention to the first man as the second man got off of his barstool and walked to the front door.
“I suspect he was trying to give you a compliment,” the first man said.
“That was a compliment?”
The first man tipped his head to the side in a gesture that looked almost like a shrug, but far more dignified. Tesa's glanced toward the front door as she heard the deadbolt snap, and the second man began walking back toward the bar.
“Yeah well, he should maybe try practicing — hey, did you just lock the door?”
“What did it look like I did?”
Tesa started to object, and then felt a hand cover her hand. She almost pulled away, but then realized the first man was touching her. The sensation of his skin across her knuckles was startlingly intense. She stared at their hands on the bar and tried to piece it all out.
“We will leave in a moment,” the first man said in a low, slow voice. “You're in absolutely no danger, Tesa.”
She shook her head. What kind of person actually needs to say the words You're in absolutely no danger?
But when she looked in his eyes, she sensed it had to be true. He emanated sincerity, as though lying wasn't even an option. As though he could tell even a terrible truth without flinching.
You've seen this kind of thing before, she told herself. You have seen it all before. Every kind of barroom jackass there is. Now hike up your socks, drink your drink, and get these jerks to go home. That one jerk, especially.
Of course, if this nice one wants to stay...
Taking a deep breath, Tesa withdrew her hand and placed both on her hips. She looked at one man, then the other, with as much strength and calmness as she could muster. They gazed back at her: one with absolute serenity, the other with an insufferably arrogant sneer.
“Well, if you're buying, then I guess I'll have one more,” she said with a cocky quirk of her eyebrow. “And that's it. It's been great meeting you gentlemen. So let's get this party started, and then call it a night. I have things to do.”
The first man nodded slowly, and she forced herself not to look away.
“I'm so glad you see it that way, Tesa. Truly I… We are.”
CHAPTER 3
Tesa rolled over in bed. As her eyes adjusted slowly to the blue-white light coming through the large window, her head responded with a series of throbbing shocks.
Her mouth tasted like an ashtray, grimy and foul. She groaned quietly and tried to find sleep again. Sleep would comfort her, she knew. If she could just sleep through the worst of the hangover, she could wake up feeling mor
e like herself and start over.
But sleep stayed stubbornly away. It faded from the edges of her mind like fog being blown out of a room. She moaned and curled to the other side, trying to dive back into the dream she was just having. If she could get back to it, maybe she could sneak back into sleep.
What was that dream? It slipped in and out of her grasp. There was someone in the alley... coming for her? She tried to remember. It was the alley behind the bar but it was so dark. Someone must have turned out the lights. She felt along the clammy brick wall as she hurried to the far end, trying to get away.
What was coming for her? She couldn't see who was there but she could feel them behind her. She could feel their breath on her bare shoulders. She could see the end of the alley, a dead end. What would she even do when she got there?
The urgency to escape the alley was overwhelming. She could still feel the dream-scream rising in her chest, but no sound would come out.
She shook her head, pushing the dream aside. No sense in remembering a dream. It wasn't real. And it wasn’t bringing sleep back either, just getting her upset all over again.
Tesa turned over, opening her eyes as little as possible. The light was blinding and painful.
If I can only get some water, she thought. Maybe Advil or something. Maybe some juice.
She tried to sit up slowly. Fighting nausea, she steadied herself on the edge of the bed with her hands and kept her head down, breathing deeply.
Little by little, she tested her body. Toes? Working. She tentatively stretched out a long, tan leg, then the other. Knees and calves, check. Fingers? Working. Arms? Yes, still there. She arched her back. Spine — present and accounted for.
Clothes? Panties?
Where the hell are my panties?
She furrowed her brow and tried to search her memory.
Think! she commanded her foggy, blinded brain. No panties? Was I wearing panties last night?
She remembered getting dressed for work: denim mini-skirt, dark red halter tank top. Knee-high fishnets and cowboy boots. The usual honkytonk bartender uniform. Panties… yes. The silver thong because Grant said he would be by after work. She was sure of it.
