Glacier Gal

by Langdon, L.

  By the time he got to Rosie’s—he had saved the best errand for last—he had more or less convinced himself that he should drop by the Arctic Saloon. Just to see how Gerri—assuming that she was the one that Mike had been talking about—was doing. Maybe see if she needed a loan. He knew that place well from his drinking days and he had no fond memories of it. But just to drop by—he could do that.

  He wondered then whether his strategy of ignoring Mindy’s hostility was wise in this situation. Should he explain his side of things to Gerri when he saw her? Bad idea. If he told her the whole story, Gerri would end up even more sympathetic to Mindy. No, he wouldn’t bring up that can of worms.

  As he came out of Taku Books, he stopped in his tracks and cursed his bad fortune. Mindy was walking down the street again. He seemed to have terrible luck meeting her here. He braced himself and waited. She was going to crow about Gerri’s tricking her way onto his boat. Might as well get it over with…

  To his astonishment, she said nothing. She looked surprised to see him standing there watching her, but she walked by with her customary dismissive expression. What the hell does that mean? She’s missing a chance to gloat? Not likely…

  As Sven walked up to the Arctic Saloon, he realized that he was hungry. He had made some discrete inquiries and found that Gerri’s shift was over in about thirty minutes. That gave him just about enough time to eat while he waited for her to be done. He preferred both the food and the ambience of the Kash Café, but eating might help take his mind off worrying about what to say to her.

  He eased into the bar. A glance told him that ‘his’ table in the corner was vacant. He didn’t see Gerri—or any other black woman—so he sat down. He saw one of the waitresses give him a scornful expression. Samantha something-or-other. She was a friend of Mindy’s, so he expected nothing else. Samantha spoke a few words to Marie, another waitress, who then shot him a worried look and started toward him. Marie was OK; she had always treated him cordially.

  “Hi, Sven. I haven’t seen you in here for a long time. What can I get you?”

  Her subtext was clear—she had once congratulated him on the street after he had quit drinking. “Hey, Marie. Don’t worry; I’m still on the wagon. Bring me a coke and a cheeseburger, please.”

  She smiled in relief. “Glad to hear that, Sven. I know I’m supposed to want more business, but… Coming right up.”

  As she left, he saw Gerri come out of the kitchen with a full tray. She wasn’t looking in his direction, so he could study her at his leisure. They were right—she did have a cute little figure. She wore the standard Arctic Saloon uniform—an A-line, black dress that buttoned up the front. It was probably borrowed, as it seemed a little tight on her. It was a far cry from the baggy clothes that she had worn aboard the Glacier Gal. Still, wouldn’t I have seen some outline?

  Her hair looked the same, yet different. She was still wearing the Afro hairdo, but it looked more symmetrical and it was shinier. He had to smile at how much she had changed its look while not really making any major revisions.

  Or was it his flawed perception? From the time he first realized his interest in art, and especially after Laura’s death, he had devoured a variety of books on various aspects of art, vision, and perception. What he was reminded of now were the optical illusions. In particular, he remembered a picture of a goblet—which, when you looked at it a different way, became a picture of two faces. Knowing that Gerri was a woman let him see her differently. In fact, he found it hard to imagine now how he had failed to see her gender before.

  Sven also studied Gerri, the person. He couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t seem happy. Or is that my conscience? She definitely looked tired. She was attracting plenty of attention from some of the male clients, which brought an unconscious scowl to Sven’s face. She looked young and innocent—definitely too good for this place.

  He pondered how to approach her. He now realized that—however bizarre a coincidence that would be—Mindy had no idea that he was the man that Gerri had deceived. That just increased his guilt feelings. Would Gerri be angry? All he wanted to do was check and see if she was all right and if he could help her if she wasn’t.

  His burger and coke arrived—with some unrequested French fries. At his questioning look, Marie smiled. “The fries are on the house. Don’t tell Samantha; she wouldn’t approve.”

  He smiled in thanks. The fries were appreciated and would be paid for—in Marie’s tip instead of in his bill. He placed the money for the meal on the table and settled back to relax and eat while he waited.

  But the relaxation proved impossible. He saw Gerri carry drinks to two men at a table. In spite of the relatively early hour, they had clearly been drinking for a while. Her approach to them was skittish and she attempted to keep her distance, but she wasn’t far enough away. One of the men laughed and reached out to grab her leg. She wriggled free and said something sharply, which made them laugh all the more. She moved away, her back stiff with indignation.

  Sven wanted to pound them into the floor, but he didn’t want to embarrass Gerri. He strained to listen to their conversation. He could hear only bits and pieces, but it was more than enough. “Nigger gals have an easy attitude about sex….talk to her outside after she gets off…happen whether she likes it or not…”

  Sven couldn’t hear the rest. He took a deep, calming breath, pasted an insincere smile on his face and walked over to their table to have an admonitory word with them.

  Chapter 11

  One more night, Gerri reminded herself. Just one more night.

  It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful to have this job. She had been in a bad spot when she had gotten back in town. She didn’t have enough money for airfare to Seattle. She hadn’t had the nerve—gall might be a better word—to ask Sven for a loan. Why should he trust her? He felt betrayed by her already. But Mindy had again proved herself to be a true friend. She had made some phone calls to help Gerri find a temporary job, and she had finally gotten lucky when she contacted her friend, Samantha. One of Samantha’s fellow waitresses at the Arctic Saloon had to leave for a few days because of a death in the family. They were glad to have Gerri fill in while she was gone.

  It wasn’t that the job was hard. Physically, it was easier than cropping tobacco or commercial fishing. Mentally, there was nothing to it. All she had to do, as Rudy, the bartender and manager put it, was to “remember the orders, don’t drop any drinks, and don’t piss off the customers.”

  The customers were a widely varied lot. Some of them were quite friendly, engaging in easy banter that she wouldn’t have expected from white people back home. Some viewed Gerri, as Samantha warned her that they would, as the ‘flavor of the month’ and made predictable passes. Some of those had at least a veneer of good manners; others were downright crude.

  Samantha’s co-worker, Marie, warned Gerri that Rudy was virtually useless as protection. He said that he had a ‘live and let live’ attitude, but it was evident that he was mostly motivated by the money that the customers spent. Samantha had the pugnacious personality of her friend Mindy and would deflect such passes or scold the perpetrators. Marie, on the other hand, confessed to feeling very uncomfortable when faced with this behavior, and Gerri felt the same way.

  As she worked, Gerri idly marveled (this job certainly left her with mental capacity to spare) that she felt such a kinship with Mindy, given their different personalities. Given more time together, perhaps Mindy would bring out Gerri’s assertive side. Gerri flattered herself that she had already influenced Mindy, if only slightly, in the direction of political compromise.

  In fact, in her short time in Juneau, she had met two people that she would be proud to call friends. Sven was the other one, but, of course, Gerri had spoiled that nascent friendship with her deception. Could she have done it differently? Would he have hired her knowing that she was female? She strongly doubted that. Even if he wasn’t a male chauvinist pig, to use the phrase that Mindy threw around so ca
sually, her lack of experience would have been a strike against her.

  Then her eyes widened and she snapped out of her daydream. Sven, of all people, was walking into the Arctic Saloon. She was out of his line of sight, thank goodness, since she wasn’t sure that she wanted to face him. Would he make a scene? Was his resentment still eating at him? She fled to the kitchen with a tray full of dirty dishes. Come to think of it, why was he even here? The food wasn’t that good. Most of the customers came to drink, and she thought that Sven didn’t drink. Hadn’t he asked her about drinking before he had hired her?

  Apparently, he attracted the notice of Marie and Samantha as well. They exchanged remarks (which Gerri strained unsuccessfully to overhear) and Marie, whose section he sat in, went to serve him. When she came back, she looked relieved. Gerri made sure to be within earshot, and heard Marie say with some satisfaction, “He ordered a coke and a cheeseburger.”

  Gerri continued to watch Sven out of the corner of her eye. She was just wondering whether she should at least say hello, when Rudy handed her two drinks for the customers at table number 7. Gerri groaned silently behind a carefully impassive face. Those two were among the nastiest men she had encountered since she had started here. They not only subjected her to crude sexual innuendos, but one of them—Ferret-face, she called him privately—saw fit to add racial slurs. She had made her anger clear, but it didn’t seem to have any effect. She gritted her teeth. If they hassled her this time, she would go to Rudy and complain anyway. She’d refuse to serve them anymore. What she’d like to do was throw their drinks in their faces. If she did that, Rudy would probably dock her pay and charge her for the glasses. She reminded herself again: just one more night!

  When she gave them their drinks, she stood as far away as possible. However, they had placed the empty glasses so that she had to reach over the table for them. Sure enough, Ferret-face grabbed at her leg as she did so. If she hadn’t had quick reflexes, he would have had his hand up between her legs instead of just brushing her thigh. She wriggled quickly out of reach and slapped his hand. “Watch your manners, buster,” she snapped.

  As she stalked back to the bar, she noticed Rudy watching. He looked blissfully unconcerned. No help there. She had one more idea. She would wait for Samantha to come back to the kitchen. Maybe she could trade tables with her.

  As she waited, she saw something that horrified her. Sven was walking over to Ferret-face’s table. And he was smiling at them. Could they be friends of his? Logically, it shouldn’t make any difference to her. But in reality, that would be so disillusioning. She liked Sven. It would be horrible to think that he could have friends like this. Wally was no prince, but he was nowhere near as awful as these two.

  It quickly became clear, however, that it wasn’t a friendly conversation. Sven’s smile was a cold one, and Ferret-face’s answering expression was downright ugly. After a minute of angry talk, Ferret-face pointed toward the back door. Samantha and Marie had regaled Gerri with stories that made her shudder about what had happened outside that door. It led to an alley that had, on several occasions, provided a secluded venue for some vicious brawls. Sven, to Gerri’s relief, gestured arms up and palms out and shook his head. Ferret-face replied loudly and abusively. Whatever he said was too much for Sven; he turned stony faced and nodded. The two men at the table got up and all three walked out. Gerri glanced around, but no one seemed to notice. Then she saw something which horrified her even more. As the men filed through the doorway, Ferret-face—out of Sven’s sight—grinned at his companion and displayed a long, wicked looking hunting knife which he had sheaved at his belt.

  Heart pounding, she raced over to Rudy at the bar. Surely, he would have to do something. Call the police at least. But could they get there in time? Sven could be killed.

  “Rudy! Those men are going to fight. And one of them has a knife. Call the police.”

  But Rudy just shrugged and dismissed her. “Don’t worry. A little bit of ‘Toonder and Lightning’ will take care of everything. This isn’t the first time there’s been a brawl in the alley.”

  Now she seriously wondered about Rudy’s sanity. Has he been sampling his own product? She didn’t have time to psychoanalyze him now. She couldn’t leave Sven to his fate. But if she walked out there alone and unprotected, then Ferret-face would come after her next.

  Gerri looked around frantically for a weapon. The chairs were unwieldy. Worthless. A bottle…she swiftly stepped behind the bar. Something heavy—a full bottle.

  “Hey!” Rudy barked angrily. “What the hell?”

  Gerri didn’t have time to reason with this fool. “I’ll bring it back or I’ll pay for it.” Somehow.

  Gerri followed the men with the bottle clutched by its neck. The door led to a short passage, with a storage room on one side and the door to the alley straight ahead. Rudy kept the door to the storeroom locked, but, as she hurried by, she checked it just in case. Yup; it was locked. She pushed on the door to the alley. It was stuck closed. She whined in frustration as she hit it with her shoulder. He could be bleeding by now.

  She stepped back and charged at the door again. Just as she hit it, it flew open. Gerri’s momentum carried her right into Sven, who was standing on the other side. He grabbed her instinctively. His awkward, but reassuring, embrace flooded her with relief.

  “Are you all right? I was afraid…” Gerri peeked around him as she spoke. One man lay on the ground clutching his ribs and she heard the sound of retching from behind the trash cans.

  Sven was reluctant to let her go. “I’m fine. Just a little disagreement. What are you doing out here?”

  She couldn’t speak at first and her heart was pounding. She took a deep breath to regain control. She glanced again at the men in the alley. “I hate violence,” she muttered.

  Sven laughed and held her at arm’s length. He gestured to the bottle in her hand. “So. You brought that out to offer us a toast?”

  That reminded her again of the knife. She ran her free hand up Sven’s arm, unconsciously checking for a wound. “One of them had a knife. I thought that he might…” Belatedly, she realized what she was doing and stepped back. His arm felt like iron—and altogether too distracting.

  Sven was nonplussed. He had been trying to do the right thing, but the feeling of Gerri in his arms was unexpectedly exhilarating. An errant thought floated up: if I say something else to scare her, will she come back into my arms? He forced it away. Grow up, Sven! “I’m fine,” he repeated. “After he was down, I threw the knife up onto the roof. Somebody could get hurt, after all.”

  “No kidding,” she responded weakly.

  Sven got a grip on himself. “I’d like to talk to you when you get off work. May I wait?”

  She stared at him blankly. “Sure,” she finally said.

  She spent the last twenty minutes of her shift, distractedly, with half of her mind wondering about Sven. Surely, he wasn’t still angry? No, he couldn’t be. After all, wasn’t he defending her virtue, as it were? At least she assumed he had been. It would have been an amazing coincidence if the fight were over something unrelated.

  Defending her virtue… She’d never had a man do that. Of course it was infinitely preferable to avoid situations where one’s virtue was under attack. But still… It was a warm feeling.

  Sven went back in to finish his food. His mind was roiling with thoughts of Gerri. He really owed her. She had spunk. She had been willing to defend him even though he had fired her. And she didn’t look as if she knew the first thing about fighting. Laura would have simply watched. Hell, Laura would have brought popcorn.

  And the feeling of Gerri in his arms was another thing to stew over. He felt blindsided by that. He had sworn off women after Laura’s death, but his body apparently had ideas of its own. His thoughts flew back to their initial meeting when he touched her cheek while accusing her of not having shaved. In retrospect, his body hadn’t been fooled then either—only his brain.

  Still, he wasn’t
pleased with himself. It felt as though he had regressed back to his drinking days after Laura’s death. Then, he had been goaded into more than one fight in that alley. Could he have handled this differently? He didn’t see how. Their threat to accost Gerri while she was walking back to Mindy’s… She’d be traveling on some badly lit streets; deserted at this time of night.

  Mindy’s! Oh, shit. Mindy would surely hear about this from Samantha. And she would definitely use this as an excuse to spread the word that he was still a no-account brawler.

  The irony of it all was that Sven hated violence, too, and that was what had started his and Laura’s downward slide.

  ___

  Gerri slid into the passenger’s seat of Sven’s truck. He noticed that she was shivering. “Are you OK? Do you want me to turn the heat on?” It was not that cold—for Juneau—and she had on a light jacket.

  “No. I guess it’s just nerves. Rudy acted like nothing had happened, but…”

  “That’s his way. He’ll probably check on them later, but if they’re gone, he figures that it’s not his problem.” He chose not to mention that he had firsthand, previous knowledge of Rudy’s habits. “Gerri, I’m sorry if I scared you. Believe it or not, I don’t like violence either, but they didn’t give me much choice.”

  Gerri took a deep breath. “Thank you for coming to my defense. They were the two nastiest people that I encountered all week.”

  Sven smiled at the memory. “Thank you for coming to my defense. I’ve never had that happen before.”

  “Well… It didn’t seem fair. I couldn’t just ignore it… It wasn’t right.” What would I have done if Sven had been the one on the ground? She shivered anew. “Can we not talk about it?”

  Sven was more than happy to change the subject. “Actually, I came to the saloon looking for you.” He paused, not knowing how to begin.

  “How did you know where to find me?”