by Amira Rain
The FDS had so far proved to be a fairly insular country; and though relations with the United States were now at least borderline lukewarm, the FDS never allowed any United States officials or members of the press to enter, ever. The peace between the two countries was still far too new, and the trust still far too tenuous. The FDS wasn't much more hospitable with other outside nations, infrequently allowing any of their government officials and members of the press to enter.
Once they'd hosted a group of French dignitaries, and several times, they'd allowed Canadian government officials and journalists to enter and travel the country, not extremely surprising since Canada was turning out to be their ally, if any nation was. It was Canada who was said to be trading with them and giving them practical and financial support while the new nation grew.
Aside from these visits by other nations, the fact that the FDS didn't restrict citizens' internet access and contact with the wider world also allowed info about the new country to trickle out. And from what we'd heard in the United States, there had recently been some kind of a power struggle in the top level of the FDS government, with a man named Cameron Asher trying to wrest power from Commander Bledsoe.
Apparently, Cameron Asher thought that Commander Bledsoe had "settled" when he'd signed the treaty with the US. Cameron thought that the shifters could have walked away with a lot more land, and that maybe they still could. He thought they could take the entire Midwest, maybe even eventually the entire nation.
For months, he'd plotted and conspired, secretly getting other shifters to join his cause, until finally he'd amassed a small army of his own, a group of several thousand shifters. They'd attempted some sort of a takeover; a battle had occurred; and Commander Bledsoe had been killed.
The actual takeover hadn't been successful, though. The Commander's army had driven Cameron Asher and his traitors north, to the northernmost tip of the peninsula, where they remained. Now the FDS council not only had to figure out how to deal with them, but had to choose a new commander-in-chief of the nation as well.
Obviously, though, these current events weren't my problem. In fact, other than a few days of fear and panic when the germ weapon had been dispersed, the whole dragon shifter thing really hadn't affected my life at all. Even all the battles between the dragons and the US government hadn't occurred anywhere near Sandstone.
My current problem at The Sandstone Cockadoodle was a much bigger problem than the dragons had ever been to me, and that problem was how to eventually leave the bar with my sanity intact. Just in the moments since Dana had served me my beer, the volume of Nikki's laughter had increased, so much so that I could hear her above the jukebox, despite the fact that the table where she and everyone else was sitting was at least a good twenty feet behind me now.
In response to what Dana had asked me about whether or not the whole thing with the dragons still blew my mind, I answered in the affirmative by nodding. "Seems like everything in the FDS will probably all go back to normal soon, though. They'll elect a new commander-in-chief, figure out what to do about the shifters who tried to overthrow the government, and carry on with business as usual, I'll bet."
Lifting a can of soda, Dana nodded, making her short, curly brown hair bounce a bit. "I'm sure you're right, and I hope you are. Their little country is far too close to ours to have continued craziness and instability up there. And I know the Canadians feel like same way. They're supportive of the FDS for their own reasons, I guess, and I doubt that will change, but I'm sure they're ready for a strong new leader to take charge."
After swallowing a sip of my beer, I agreed, and Dana started to say something else.
However, she kind of stopped short and paused a second with her gaze on the bar's entrance. "Oh, God. Look who just walked in the door."
Wondering if the high school reunion of sorts happening in the bar was about to get a little bigger or something, I turned to look, trying to be as discreet and non-obvious about it as possible. Based on what Dana had said, I expected to see maybe one of the people who'd been considered a bully at our school, or maybe even a former teacher. The man that I saw was someone I'd never seen in my life, though. I definitely would have remembered him.
Dressed in work boots, battered jeans, and a navy blue t-shirt, he stood several inches over six feet tall, and to say he was well-built would have been an understatement. He was more like perfectly built, with trim hips, broad shoulders, and muscular everything. His physique wasn't the only perfect thing about him, though. His face, with strong jaw, perfectly straight, proportionate nose, and deep-set, dark eyes, was also something like a masculine work of art. The "picture" was topped with a head of thick, dark hair, part of which was tousled, falling over his forehead.
I thought that honestly, I couldn't have designed a more devastatingly attractive man if I'd sculpted him myself from clay.
At my back, Dana spoke in a fairly low voice. "As long as I've lived in this town and as long as I've worked in this bar, I just about know every adult male by sight, and he is not a local. He's gotta be another pipeliner. Probably going to make a beeline for his friends at the table and add to all the commotion over there. He's certainly an exceptionally hot and sexy pipeliner, though; I'll give him that. And this is coming from a woman who usually only finds other women hot and sexy."
I watched the man for just a few moments, just long enough to see that he walked with an unhurried, confident sort of stride, before turning back around to face the bar, and Dana. "Well, I guess we'll have to see if he's hot and sexy enough to get Nikki to drop her red-haired guy."
"Oh, maybe not. Don't turn around again, but he's actually heading over here to the bar. And he's looking directly at you."
CHAPTER THREE
If Dana had been correct in thinking that the handsome stranger in the bar had been looking at me, he definitely wasn't any more when he arrived up at the bar and had a seat on a stool two down from mine. In fact, he didn't even glance at me. He just gave Dana the faintest of polite, perfunctory smiles before ordering his drink.
"Double whiskey, neat, please."
The man appeared to be in his early thirties, had a rich, deep voice, but what he didn't have was even the hint of a Southern accent. Which right away made me think that he wasn't a pipeliner, and I was sure that Dana realized this, too, though when she began pouring his whiskey, she casually asked him if he was with the pipeline crew.
Frowning just slightly, he began pulling bills out of his wallet. "No."
Dana set his drink down and looked at him a bit expectantly, as if waiting for him to elaborate, maybe saying where he was from or what he was doing in town, but he didn't. Instead, he just put a couple bills on the counter, pocketed his wallet, and grabbed his drink before saying thanks and heading over to a vacant corner table.
Watching him go, Dana began speaking in a low voice, but almost immediately, she was cut off by one of the pipeliners shouting from some twenty feet away.
"Hey, missy! Can we get some more drinks over here?"
Rolling her eyes slightly, Dana pulled out a tray from beneath the bar and began loading it with shot glasses. "Well, I guess my name is 'Missy' now."
She soon went to deliver the tray of drinks to the table, despite the fact that the general rule in The Doodle was that the bartender didn't normally deliver drinks unless they were ordered by one person to be sent to another person or persons, as Dana told me before she bustled off. If drinks were ordered by a group already acquainted and sitting together, the person doing the ordering could get off their butt and get the drinks, Dana had said. With a sigh, she'd added that the pipeliners were "crazy good" tippers, though, so she generally tried to make them happy.
When Dana returned, we resumed our earlier conversation about the dragons, the FDS, and their need for a new leader, and then we moved on to discuss different happenings in town, like the great success of a summer farmer's market that had been going on in town every weekend since late May. Everyone had said
that no one would want to shop for fresh produce in a tiny market situated between a parking lot and a liquor store, but "everyone" had been wrong.
While Dana and I talked, I sipped my second beer, and Liz came up for another tray of shots for the table, plunking down a hundred-dollar bill that one of the pipeliners had given her. After watching her leave, observing her somewhat unsteady gait, I glanced at the incredibly handsome, non-pipeliner man at the darkened corner table, seeing that he appeared deep in thought, frowning slightly with his gaze on his whiskey glass.
Dana followed my line of vision and spoke in a low voice, even though we were well out of hearing distance. "He looks like a man with a lot on his mind. Maybe he's passing through town after visiting a girlfriend somewhere, and maybe they broke up or something. And I say girlfriend breakup and not wife breakup, because he's not wearing a wedding ring and doesn't have a wedding ring tan line. Did you see that? As a bartender, I always notice these little things."
During my glance at the man, I'd re-noticed just how heart-stoppingly gorgeous he was. I even liked the way he sat, forearms on the table, flanking his drink, which displayed his biceps and broad shoulders to their best advantage.
I still wasn't about to try to pick up a man in a bar, though. It really just wasn't my style. Especially when that man's somber expression indicated that he just wanted to be left alone.
In response to what Dana had said about the man possibly having just experienced a breakup or something, I just shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows? Really not our business, though."
"Yeah, I know. But aren't you at least curious about what a man like him is doing in Sandstone? Like, is there a male model or actor convention going on in town that we don't know about or something?"
The thought of a "male model convention" going on in Sandstone made me crack a smile.
"I highly doubt that's the case."
Cracking a smile herself, Dana hopped down off her bar stool behind the counter. "Well, it could be. And maybe he looks so glum and serious because he lost the first preliminary round of the competition or something, even though I'm not sure how that could be possible."
"Me, neither."
"Look. I'm just gonna break the bar's 'no serving customers at the table' rule one more time tonight. I'm just going to go stroll by and ask him if he's ready for another drink. Maybe he'll volunteer some information that might satisfy my curiosity. Who knows?"
I felt like maybe the man should just be left alone, but before I could say anything, Dana had breezed out from behind the bar, clearly intent on doing her "mission."
Not two seconds later, Nikki staggered her way up to the bar, shoeless somehow, hopped up on the bar stool next to me, and gave me a big grin. "Hey."
"Hey. Do you think you've had enough to drink? Because-"
"Shush, Mom. Just shush. I just came up here to see if you'll come back to the table to be silly with me and Rick. He's the red-haired guy who's my new boyfriend for the night. He's really funny, and I just want you to laugh at some of the things we're saying."
"Well, I think I'm going to stay up here at the bar and finish my beer."
Rolling her sky-blue eyes, Nikki snorted. "Well, fine. Be that way, then. Me and Rick and Liz and that one guy are almost about to leave anyway. Rick and that one guy rent a house together, and we're all gonna go there and have some real fun."
"Well, are you really sure-"
"Of course I am. Me and Liz both want to get laid. What's the problem?"
"Well-"
"Hey. You know how they say that a drunk person can't consent to having sex? Well, me and Rick are both pretty wasted, so what does that mean? Does that mean that we each cancel out each other's non-consent to make it all full consent, or does that mean that we'll both be violating each other at the exact same time?"
"I don't know. Do you use protection against STIs, Nikki? And are you on birth control?"
"Oh, I have a shitload of condoms in my purse."
"Well, will you promise me that you're going to use them tonight? At least one of them when it's needed?"
"Yeah. Why? What, do you think I'm gonna end up pregnant from a one-night-stand or something?"
"Well...it's definitely biologically possible."
"Hey. Have you ever wanted to have just, a full-out brawl in a bar before? Like, I'm not saying we'd actually hurt each other, but-"
"Okay. You're definitely done drinking for the night."
"What?"
"The last drink you had was definitely your last."
"Oh, is this your way of sucking me into the brawl or something? You want me to get mad and take the first swing or something? Because...I'm not mad." Suddenly stifling giggles, Nikki paused. "I honestly think you're just...hysterical."
She dissolved into full giggles, turning her attention to the group of pipeliners and attractive women a ways down the bar from us. They were all getting up, possibly to leave the bar, it looked like. And really, it looked like a mass exodus from the bar was about to take place. Two couples one one side of the bar had finished a game of darts and were heading toward the exit, and the group of local men that had been nursing beers in the corner were now heading toward the exit as well.
Dana returned to the bar at this time, and Nikki spoke to her with her words becoming increasingly slurred.
"Lemme grab another vodka while I'm up here, Dana."
Becoming increasingly anxious, I shook my head. "Please don't serve her any more, Dana, seriously."
Dana was already pouring whiskey into a glass, and she glanced between me and Nikki. "Yeah, you're cut off, Nikki. Sorry. You're not even wearing any shoes."
Frowning, almost even glaring, Nikki suddenly hopped down off her bar stool. "Whatever. Catch you both later...nerds."
She began staggering away, leaving Dana and me to stifle a bit of unexpected laughter. I was pretty sure it had been a while since either of us had been called a nerd, and especially with the level of vitriol and disdain that Nikki had mustered.
Once our mirth had died down, Dana filled a glass with ice water, added it to a tray with the glass of whiskey, and then spoke while kind of glancing between me and the man in the corner. "Didn't get any info out of Mr. Handsome. Whatever the reason is that he's in town, he's keeping that to himself. I was honestly hoping to get him loosened up a little, and then maybe I was going to say that you're a nice person to share a drink with or something. I guess I just thought maybe you'd like talking to a man who seems to be a little classier than your average pipeliner.
"No dice, though. He just gave me one-word responses, still looking all serious, and then asked for more whiskey, just a single this time, and a glass of water, meaning he's probably going to take off soon. He'll drink his whiskey, then slowly sip his water for a little while to lose most of his buzz before heading out the door to drive off. Which, obviously, is a responsible thing to do, meaning that he's probably a decent, responsible kind of guy, which makes it a shame that he doesn't seem interested in conversation. I thought I might be a little matchmaker tonight."
Wearing a frown, Dana picked up the tray and began heading around to the other side of the counter.
Almost at the same time, Angie came up and leaned against the bar, facing me. "We're going home. Abbey's mom is picking us up. We're not 'experienced drinkers' like Nikki and Liz, and we both just drank way too fast, and we're both now barf-level drunk. And, honestly...even right this second I could just about...."
After a long pause with all color seeming to drain from her face, Angie abruptly turned and took off toward the bathrooms, dashing as fast as her high heels would carry her. Knowing she was surely soon going to get sick, I followed after her, thinking I'd probably just offer moral support and maybe get her a glass of water afterward if she wanted one.
It turned out that I had to provide a bit more than moral support. When I arrived in the bathroom, I saw that Angie hadn't quite made it to the toilet. In fact, not even close. Vomit covered a good section of t
he yellowish tile floor. Cringing, because I didn't have the strongest stomach in the world, I called out asking Angie if she was okay. Now in a stall, she feebly responded yes, then apologized for "missing the toilet." By nearly a mile, it looked like.
Lifting the hem of my top to my face so that I could breathe deeply with some sort of a filter, I left the bathroom and rummaged around in a utility closet adjacent to it, feeling like Angie's mess was somehow more my responsibility than Dana's, since Angie was my friend. Dreading the task I was going to have to do, I soon located a bag of some kitty litter-type substance with For Vomit scrawled across the front in magic marker. Next to it, there was a broom and dustpan, both of these items also marked For Vomit.
Back in the bathroom, I set about trying to do my task as quickly as possible, covering the floor with the absorbent kitty litter substance and then sweeping it up and dumping it in the trash while trying not to think about what I was doing. Which was kind of hard with Angie still retching in the stall.
A short while later, when I'd returned to the bathroom with a mop and bucket containing what smelled like water and bleach, she'd finally stopped and was standing in front of the sink, washing her hands.
Pale-faced and red-eyed, she glanced over at me. "I'm so sorry. I'll help mop the floor or do whatever you-"
"Don't even worry about it. This will just take a second. Just go home with Abbey and get some rest."
After drying her hands with a length of crispy brown paper towel, Angie tossed it in the trash and said thanks. "I know Nikki's been teasing you, but you really are going to make a great mom someday. And I don't mean that in any mean sort of way; I just mean it honestly. You're going to be such a great mom, just because of how caring you are."
I cracked a little smile, actually a bit touched. "Well, thanks, but I'm probably not going to become a mom anytime soon. I probably should find a good man to marry first, and I don't think that man is in this bar. Now, go find Abbey, go home, and get some rest."
After giving me a brief hug, Angie left the bathroom with a bit of color returning to her face. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes later, I'd mopped the floor, had dumped the dirty water down a drain, had disinfected the toilet Angie had used, and had used the facilities myself. When I came back out into the bar itself, it was empty, at least empty of all other patrons except six pipeliners still at the double table, and the handsome, taciturn man from out of town, who remained at his table in the corner, sipping his water. Rick,
