by C. L. Quinn
Frank leaned over the grill and handed the plate to her.
“But he might not.”
Tamesine smiled, hesitated, poured the coffee, and carried it and the plate over to his table.
“Here you go, one ham and cheese sandwich.”
When she set it in front of him, he didn’t touch it, just stared down at it for a second.
“I’m sorry, is there something wrong?” she asked.
For several moments he didn’t respond, then he reached for it. “No. It’s fine,” and he took a bite.
Looking over the sandwich, Tamesine realized Frank had forgotten the lettuce.
“Oh, I see. Here, let me fix that.”
When Tamesine reached for the sandwich, he put his hand over the plate and finally looked back up at her.
“No, it’s fine.”
His eyes were intense, and she couldn’t look away. The deep gray had tiny flecks of white that pulled her into them. The depth, the soul she saw through them. This man, she could tell…life had chewed him up.
“I said, it’s fine,” he repeated, then broke the connection that Tamesine had fallen into. “I think I can handle the disappointment of one wilted piece of lettuce.”
He took another bite and glanced back up. “Good. You can take care of someone else now.”
Forcing herself to move, Tamesine backed away.
“Okay, but if you need anything else, let me know.”
“I won’t,” he answered and dropped his head to the table.
She paused just a moment longer, but when he didn’t look back up, she went back to the counter.
Frank touched her shoulder. “Sparks, little Tam. Sparks!”
Tamesine used a counter towel to snap him in the arm and smiled up at him.
“Stop playing matchmaker. I’m not looking.”
Frank grinned and grabbed the towel before she could snap him again.
“That’s when they find you.”
He disappeared back behind the grill.
Tamesine looked back to the troubled man until the bell over the door announced another group of customers.
When she finished listening to the party of three painstakingly decide what they wanted, she felt a sudden emptiness and coldness, looked back and saw the strange man walk out the door.
He’d left a 20 dollar bill for his 8 dollar tab.
Without realizing it, Tamesine wandered to the front of the diner and looked down the street toward the bar next door. He was gone. She drew a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders. He probably wouldn’t come back, and that was okay. Tamesine had her own problems she needed to work through, she didn’t need to be involved with anyone else’s. Still…
She shook her head as if to clear it. Stop. He’s none of your concern.
“Excuse me, miss, can I change my order?”
Tamesine looked back at the teenage girl with orange hair who had a hand up, waving frantically.
Back to work.
Marc entered the back door of The Iron Butterfly, laying the keys to his bike on a shelf with several other sets of keys.
“You’re late, Brannon.”
“Sorry. Had some trouble with the bike.”
Joe Geitz looked at the man who had worked for him for six months now.
“You look like hell. You doin’ all right?”
Nodding, Marc walked past Joe. “Yeah.”
That was all Joe was going to get out of him tonight, he knew that.
“All right. Relieve Bobby. He’s gotta pick up his kid. His ex-wife’s soaked again.”
“Damn. She drinks more than I do.”
“I think she’s sober about as long as it takes to take a piss. He’s trying to get custody.”
“Good for him.” Marc started out of the storeroom and paused. “Sorry I’m late, Joe. I won’t be again.”
Joe nodded as Marc disappeared. Yeah, he would. Joe figured Marc’s PTSD had worsened. He didn’t know why, but he recognized the symptoms. Maybe, just maybe, he could finally convince Marc to see someone.
Marc drew a deep breath before he stepped into the busy bar that helped him keep his mind off of his life. At least here, he felt like he accomplished something, like he was of some use. Joe had been good to him, and he was grateful for the work. He didn’t need it, not financially anyway, but he needed the distraction.
“I got this,” he said to a slender man just a little shorter than his own six foot three inches. “Get outta here.”
Bobby nodded, with a wan smile.
Marc turned to a pretty redhead who was reaching for him.
“Hey, my timings good,” she said. “I hoped you were working tonight.”
Giving her his plastered smile, he set a napkin in front of her. “That’s nice. What did you want?”
She came in often. He knew she wanted to ask him for more than a drink, but he’d never encouraged it, and she hadn’t yet. He hoped she wouldn’t. It surprised him how many women hit on him.
He was a fucking mess, he thought they ought to be able to see that. None of them needed his baggage.
“Just a whiskey sour, please,” the redhead said, after a moment of hesitation.
Good. She had a lot of better choices in the bar tonight. Marc thought she seemed like a nice girl, she deserved a nice guy.
He reached for the bottle of whiskey on the shelf behind him while he prepared her drink and his mind wandered back to the strange moment next door in the diner he’d always passed by before. But tonight, he’d stopped because he hadn’t eaten in over a day, and he was feeling light-headed.
What he didn’t understand was the unusual feeling he had when the blonde came over and stopped at his table.
What the hell had that been about?
The woman was stunning, he’d noticed that right away, but it didn’t account for the weird feeling that hit him as soon as she approached him. Like someone had crawled into his mind. Hell, he’d tried to avoid looking at her, he felt so unbalanced, but when he did, it was like someone hit him in the groin. Not with a kick, but with a sexual charge that fired him up immediately. His cock had swelled, and that didn’t happen. Not anymore. And certainly not with a complete stranger.
When his eyes hit hers, he’d wanted to grab her and yank her into the alley behind these buildings and crawl inside of her. It couldn’t be her looks. Lots of pretty girls hit on him all of the time here and his body never reacted.
He was broken. He knew that, and badly. When he wanted sex now, he hired a professional around the corner, and it usually took her a while to get a rise out of him. Literally.
So why the intense, almost uncontrollable desire for the waitress? Another PTSD issue? Probably.
“Here you go,” he said casually to the redhead. She started to say something else to him, but Marc said, “Excuse me,” and walked away. A moment later, so did she.
Marc watched from the supply closet until she left, then returned to the bar and took his next order. The last few days had been tougher than usual. His flashbacks while sleeping crossed from his dreams to wakefulness and left him sweating and frightened.
That’s why he was such a fucking mess right now. He thought Joe knew, but he didn’t want to talk about it, because Joe wanted him to see a head doctor.
No. No reason to, because he’d done that years ago and it hadn’t helped. The process, the “reliving” of events he needed to purge, he couldn’t do that anymore. So he hoped that getting on with his life, they would fade naturally in time. Other life moments would fill in the bad memories, and he’d learn to be okay with his past. Although it hadn’t happened yet, he still kept a tiny bit of hope that someday it might.
The only thing he had left was privacy and patience. Do his job, go home, try to let his mind rest, try not to drink so much, and hope for better days. He’d been here for six months, and until a few weeks ago, he thought he might be able to say he was getting better. But after the marathon dreams that started again two weeks ago Saturday, he’d
have to admit, he wasn’t.
Anyway, he thought, as he wiped the counter down before the next client stepped up, he didn’t want to leave this job. So he’d better watch the dreams and the memory assaults and make it to work on time, or Joe would cut him loose.
Marc straightened a row of glass stemware. He didn’t know where he’d go or what he’d do if he got fired from here. His military pension and a substantial inheritance from his mother made it unnecessary to work. But the dreams and images made it necessary to stay here and do the job. He needed to stay busy. This place, Joe, kept him busy. The hustle, the noise, the constant motion, laughing people just making their lives, hooking up and fucking the next handsome guy or pretty girl…he found a peace in it.
So now, tonight, he just needed to focus on taking good care of Joe’s clients. Joe came out and helped tend the bar when it got busier, since Bobby was going to be gone the rest of the night.
They worked well together, even on occasion they performed a few lame bar tricks with bottles and glasses that the regulars got a kick out of.
“I’ll take the trash out, Joe, when we slow down.”
Joe nodded to Marc’s offer and raised his eyebrows up and down quickly. “Then I think I’ll go get some wine for the Doublemint twins over there.”
Marc smiled. Joe had a thing for the set of brunette twins that came in every once in a while.
He’d told him, “Hey, doesn’t every guy have a fantasy about hot twins?”
Frank locked the door, grabbed the mop out of Tam’s hand and pushed it into Caitlyn’s hand to replace the cell phone he took from her as he pitched it gently onto the counter.
“Tam, you’re finished. Go home. Cate, you never get the clean-up. It’s your turn. See if you can do as good a job as this little one.”
Tamesine started to protest, but Frank took her bag from behind the counter and shoved it onto her shoulder.
“You work too hard. Seriously, go next door and get a drink. See if you can find the hot guy that came in here tonight.”
“I don’t want to…”
“Shhh. Listen to the voice of experience. You’re young, and it’ll pass by in the blink of an eye. Go look for something real, Tam. Please. Make an old man happy, eh?”
He was such a kind man. Perhaps one of the best mannered, best tempered men she’d ever known.
She let herself open up to him a little. “You’re not old, Frank. And I’m not as young as you think.” God, am I not as young as he thinks!
“Then you must be doing something right. So, do me a favor, promise me you’ll go get a drink.”
“Frank, I…”
“Promise me.”
It couldn’t hurt to get a drink if it pleased him. So she nodded. “Okay, I will. I promise.”
He grinned as he turned around. “Missed a spot, Cate. Missed a lot of spots.”
The pissed off waitress stuck her tongue out at him, and then turned away and shot him the middle finger so that he couldn’t see the gesture. But Tamesine did.
Frank was right, the girl needed some discipline. Well, it wasn’t her concern, and Tamesine had a date with a glass of wine. She would honor her promise, get a glass, and go home.
She left through the back exit, down an alleyway which led to a second one that dead-ended near the bar she was expected to visit.
As she began to walk through the poorly lit tunnel of brick walls, broken glass, and rubbish bins, she heard muffled sounds, what sounded like someone crashing against one of the big metal containers, and a terrified squeal.
It was just ahead of her, so Tamesine picked up her pace and rounded the corner to find two men facing a woman on the ground, and a third one dropping to straddle her. It didn’t even take her a second to realize what was going on. This she could handle.
The two men who were standing saw her coming toward them and turned to her.
“Hey, Kee, look here, another cute chick wants to join the party,” the tallest guy said. What he saw as she came forward was a woman a good six inches shorter, petite and striking, long blonde hair escaping in pretty tendrils.
Oh, hell he wanted that. “You must be looking for a good fuck, sweetheart.”
Tamesine walked right up to him. “If I were, I don’t think any one of the three of you could satisfy me.”
“Aw, fuck, you didn’t just say that,” he spat at Tamesine.
She saw the shine of a knife’s blade palmed in his right hand.
He came at her and she lifted him off of his feet as if he was made of air and threw him across the alley, airborne, a good fifty feet, to thud sickeningly into the brick wall. Then she turned to the second one, who looked ready to defend himself.
“Your turn,” she said, taunting him. He came at her, too, a large-muscled man who’s weight alone should have taken her down, but she grabbed his throat and held him up against the adjacent wall.
Brutally, she turned his head to face her and caught his line of sight.
“You will stop struggling.” He did, immediately, and just hung there, suspended, as she easily held him off of the ground.
“You will never come here again. And you will not be able to get an erection when you’re around a woman again for the next five years. Unfortunately, you’ll get one whenever you see a big biker dude dressed in leather and chains. You will go home, and then tomorrow, you will volunteer to help the homeless and needy at local shelters.”
Dropping him, she said, “Get out of here.”
The man on the ground that was holding down the young woman, turned on her, a handgun pointed at her.
“What the fuck, bitch?” He yelled.
Tamesine split the air, using vampire speed to take the gun from his hand and pitch him to the ground before he even saw her move. She repeated the orders to him, smiling as he took off.
Reaching down, she helped the girl on the ground get up. “Are you all right?”
The girl was breathing hard and terrified. “Um, yeah, I am now. God, thank you. I…how did you do that?”
“I’m stronger than I look. Can you make it home okay?”
“Yeah. I’m going back out on the street, which I should have stayed on anyway. I came back here to smoke a joint, but I won’t do anything like that again. Thank you so much.”
“Sure. Just go.”
Tamesine turned to deal with the guy on the ground who was just waking up.
Marc shoved the third trash bag into the bin before he dropped the lid when he heard the scream. It was low, but he recognized terror when he heard it. As he hurried around the corner, he saw the beautiful waitress who had served him tonight walking up to a big guy. Sizing up the situation, he scanned the rest of the players present, the other two guys, the girl underneath one of them, and moved forward when he saw something that stopped him in his tracks.
The tiny blonde waitress picked up the big guy who was now wielding a knife and pitched him like he was a basketball through the air. What the hell?
Then she turned and smiled at the second guy. Once again, he started forward to help her when she literally lifted the guy up by his throat and held him against the brick wall. No way, no fucking way!
He heard her telling him to leave, and when she let him drop moments later, the guy scrambled out of there almost on all fours.
Marc pulled back into the shadows to conceal his presence. Something was off about that woman, he’d known it in the diner. Now, he had no idea what to think. Maybe he was hallucinating again. Ah, fuck no, that slippery slope would lead him quickly back to rehab.
No, he didn’t believe this was an hallucination, he hadn’t had any in over six months. Bad dreams, depression, the shakes, extreme reactions to certain sounds, but no hallucinations.
Yet how else could he explain what he saw?
Still hidden in the darkness, he glanced back and saw her just standing there. She was alone now, and looked in his direction, unmoving. Her eyes almost looked like they were glowing. Were they?
Just go back inside and forget what you think you saw, he told himself silently. This is none of your concern. You were just as likely to not witness this as to do so.
But he wouldn’t move until she was gone. Call it instinct or training, he knew it was best that he remain undiscovered. Whatever he’d seen, he knew it wasn’t anything she wanted someone else to know. He could tell by the way she was standing there searching the air.
Tamesine felt something. Him. But she didn’t see him, he couldn’t be here. Why would he be? It must be the proximity. Frank had said he worked in the bar on the other side of this wall. She could feel him through the walls?
She stood still and let her senses read to her. Whatever there was about him, she wasn’t ready to find out. Right now, after the conflict in this alley, she was ready to go the safety of her apartment.
Tamesine smiled as she began to wander back the way she’d come. It had felt nice to use her abilities again. Nice to feel the power move through her and do something worthy. Those guys were creeps and if she hadn’t been there, they would have raped that poor girl. Now, they would spend a lot of years wondering why their cocks were locked in the flaccid position. She’d always been good at matching punishment to behavior. Sometimes, karma needed a little help.
And sometimes it didn’t.
Living isolated from her people on the other side of the world was penance for all the terrible things she had done the past eight hundred years. This journey back to herself, that she was sure she needed to finish alone, was part of it.
But now, having done something good, having helped someone avoid terrible danger, she wondered if this was what she needed to do. She needed to use her abilities to help people, an atonement that would resonate all the way to her scrambled subconscious, to that damaged place that reached for light. Would that help her to heal?
Smiling, Tamesine caught the eye of everyone she passed and said hello.
“Hi,” to the tall brunette woman with the tattoo of a star near her eye.
