by H. M Reilly
“I always have a bar to tend, but I think Julio can manage for a few on his own,” she said. Her thick dark brows creased with a frown, and she fussed with a silver spider ring on her thumb. The spider was nearly as big as her thumb. “Maybe next time you should go to another bar.”
“I just needed a drink,” he said. Logan finished off his beer.
“Next time you’re in a mood, go somewhere else.” Delia turned and walked away, slipping through the crowded bar. Logan watched as she appeared behind the bar once again.
A couple beers later, Logan rose from his seat and headed out the door, leaving a few bills on the table. He glanced towards the bar and saw Delia was already gone. He went out the door, and as he crossed the parking lot, a tall, raven-haired female appeared. She wore a denim jacket, a pattern of rhinestones fixed across the back. He took a chance and called out Delia’s name. The woman twirled in his direction. “Wanna go for a ride?”
“And why would I want to go anywhere with you?” She rested a hand on her hip, her eyebrow arched and gaze narrowed.
“C’mon, doll—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry for being a dick. Lemme make it up to you.”
Delia finally consented. Logan drove to her apartment, stopping for a six-pack of beer and snacks on the way. When they arrived, Delia let herself in to find the apartment empty, her roommate was gone for the night. They locked the door behind them, then drank, smoked, and screwed the night away.
He woke a few hours before sunrise. He couldn’t sleep. Not even with Delia curled up right beside him. She slept with a smile on her face, and he didn’t want to disturb her with all his tossing and turning.
He went out into the living room of the quiet apartment. The nearby wall clock clicked the seconds away. He didn’t see any sign of Delia’s roommate being home, but he grabbed his jacket from the couch and stepped out on to the balcony, keeping as quiet as possible. Even outside was quiet. All he could hear was a few passing cars on the road nearby.
Delia still had the same patio furniture sitting outside as the last time he was here and a few plants sitting near the railing. He slipped into a chair, pulled out a plastic bag from his pocket, unrolled it, and pulled out a hand-rolled joint. He lit up the end, cupping his hand over the end, and leaned back in his chair.
He stared out toward the horizon, enjoying his smoke. The early morning sky started to pale; soon dawn would arrive, the sun slowly rising in the horizon. A couple was fighting and yelling across the alley. Smoke billowed from his nose when the balcony door cracked open. Delia poked her head out. “I wondered where you ran off to.”
“Just having a smoke, babe.”
“Mind if I join?”
“Sure,” Logan said. Delia smiled and stepped out on the balcony. She shut the sliding glass door behind her and plopped down on the chair beside him. She lifted her bare feet on to the table, and Logan reached for the ashtray, flicking the loose ash from the end.
“Is everything okay, Logan? I know something’s been bothering you,” she said. Logan glanced over at her. He leaned over and stubbed his joint out in the ashtray. A small smile appeared across his face. As much as he didn’t want to talk about it, he needed to, but he had to be careful what he said.
Logan never revealed many details about his work to Delia. He never liked speaking about his work with others that weren’t in the trade. He especially didn’t like talking about hunting with anyone who didn’t even know much about the paranormal or supernatural. As far as he knew, Delia didn’t involve herself in the supernatural world. He only knew little about her pagan lifestyle.
“I just have a buncha shit on my mind. Buncha work shit.”
“Do you need to talk about it?”
“Delia…” He leaned back against the chair and lifted an arm across the back. He turned his gaze in her direction and licked his lips. “You know my work keeps me on the road. I just finished a job, and I’m ready to leave, but my nephews asked for my help with another job. If there is a job.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ve asked me to do a job based on too little information. I’m gonna need to put in some time to even see if it’s worth doing.”
“You don’t think it’s worth it?”
“No, not really. But I’m gonna look into it a little before deciding,” he said. “I’m ready to leave home. I need some distance from here for a while.”
“I know. Where will you go?”
“Somewhere warm. Far from here,” he said.
Delia rose from her chair and had a seat in his lap. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she leaned back. “Maybe some time I can travel with you.”
“Sure. We’ll see.”
CHAPTER 12
Charlotte crossed the dining area with a tray in her hands and a handwritten slip on top. She handed the slip to Troy, who stood behind the bar tonight. Several customers came through the front door, and she greeted them with a cheerful smile painted across her red lips. She’d become the local’s favorite waitress, and a few returning customers found spots in her section.
The clock hanging on the wall just above the kitchen said it was just after 12:30 in the morning. She, Troy, and Chris, the cook, would be closing before too much longer. She had a couple of customers still sitting at the tables while they enjoyed their late-night food and drink. An old eighties rock song floated from the speakers, and she could hear Chris singing along in the back while cleaning the grills. Charlotte had some time to kill and disappeared down the hallway to grab something to clean with.
She opened the janitor’s closet and grabbed the broom, then heard the bell over the front door jingle. She set the broom aside and made her way back to the front room. She took a glance around the room but didn’t see who had come through the front door. Her heart sank when she a familiar face walking across the room to her section. Unfortunately, the other half of the dining area was closed off for the night, chairs sitting on top of the tables. She turned and approached Troy, still standing behind the bar. “Can you serve him tonight? Please?”
“Is that Michael?” he asked. She only nodded. Michael had only been to the bar once since that one night they spent together. He hadn’t contacted her at all since that night, not a single message or call. Charlotte confessed to Troy she felt uncomfortable serving Michael.
Troy tossed his rag on to the bar and walked around, gesturing for Charlotte to leave the room. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she disappeared down the hallway. When she reappeared, she was carrying a small bucket full of hot, soapy water in her hands.
Meat sizzled on the grill, and she overheard Troy and Chris speaking in the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks when she spotted Michael on a stool near the end of the bar. He lifted his eyes in her direction with a crooked grin curling across his lips.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She crossed to the empty end of the dining room and set the bucket down. Hot, soapy water sloshed over the side, and she reached in for a rag, squeezing out the excess water. Her heart raced in her chest, and her face started to feel a little warm, but she kept her eyes lowered. “Bryan is off tonight. And I’m trying to clean. What are you doing here?”
“Come on, babe. Don’t be so uptight. How do you know I’m not here to see you?”
She ignored his words and went to wipe down the tables. He hopped from the barstool, clumps of dried mud falling from his boots. She lifted a narrowed gaze. A charming grin appeared across his face. And she rolled her eyes.
“What do you want, Michael? I’m not in the mood to play games.”
“What? Why you mad at me?”
“Back off, Michael. I'm trying to work,” she said as she tossed the rag back into the bucket. “Leave me alone, or I'll have Troy kick you out.”
“Shit. Sorry. I'll leave you be.”
Charlotte went back to her work and carried the bucket over to another set of tables to wipe down. She didn’t need to focus an
y more energy on Michael. He was nothing to her, especially after the way he acted the morning after they spent the night together. She wasn’t going to blame herself for giving in to her needs, even if he turned out to be a jerk.
She was just about finished wiping down the tables on the empty end of the dining area when she heard Michael’s voice behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. He wasn’t going to leave her be, was he? “Hey…can I get some service?”
“I’m sorry. Did you need something?”
“What the hell, Charlotte? You know me,” he said. “What if I wanted to talk to you?”
“No, I don’t. If you want to talk to me, that’s what a phone is for.”
“I’m here now. There’s nobody else here. Let’s talk,” he said as he stepped over, reaching out to touch her. She pulled her arm out of his reach and backed off, but he moved in closer until he was almost pressed against her.
“Stop. You need to stop, Michael.”
“C’mon, babe. Don’t be like that.”
“Stop calling me that,” she said, trying to shove him away. “I’m not your toy to play with.”
One of her customers, an older man sitting near the front of the room, called out for service. Michael turned, and she shoved her elbow back as hard as she could, managing to get away. She hurried across the room to assist him and the lady sitting at the table, grabbing their glasses for refills. Another man stepped through the front door, pulling a pair of shades from his eyes.
“I’ll be with you in a moment, sir.”
A moment later, Troy appeared from the kitchen, carrying a case of beer. Charlotte stopped him in the hall and told him about what just occurred in the dining area. He nodded Charlotte on her way, letting her know he would take care of it. She made her way down the hallway, leaving Troy to the case of beer he carried.
“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”
Charlotte overhead Troy speaking when she approached the dining area, carrying two full glasses of iced tea. A moment later, glass bottles were clanking against one another. When she stepped into the dining area, she found Troy unpacking the case of beers into the nearby fridge.
“Sorry, Charlotte.”
She glanced in Michael’s direction without saying a word and went on over to help the man who had just walked in, now sitting in the corner. He had an old piercing scar on his left eyebrow and hadn’t shaved in over a week with the salt and pepper coming through. He wore an old pair of jeans torn at one knee. She took his order, took it to the kitchen for Chris to work on, and went back to her cleaning duties. Troy appeared, carrying a tray of food over to Michael.
Charlotte brought out a large container of salt and pepper and set them down on the bar. She then went around the dining area, collecting the salt and pepper shakers. Chris sang in the kitchen, loud over the music, but nobody complained. The older couple found him entertaining when they joined Charlotte at the register to pay their bill.
Michael only bothered Charlotte once, asking for his check. For a moment, she contemplated grabbing Troy to handle Michael, but she led him to the register at the bar. Suddenly, Michael stepped right up behind her. She let out a gentle gasp. The cigarette smoke and cologne barely masked the musky smell of sweat. The whiskey on his breath was subtle.
“C’mon, I know you’ve missed me, Charlotte. We had a good time,” he said. Her heart pounded in her chest as his hand tightened at her waist. She tried to push his hands away, but his grip tightened.
“Michael,” she said, “I’m not your whore.”
Charlotte didn’t want to make a scene, but she didn't want to put up with Michael either. She tried to pull free from him, her heart racing harder in her chest. Suddenly, another man's voice broke through. She forgot there were still customer's dining, and he hadn't asked her for much more than another beer and a bottle of hot sauce.
“Hey, buddy, I don’t think the girl wants to be bothered.”
She carefully turned her head and looked over at the other man. Michael glanced over his shoulder, giving Charlotte the opportunity to step away. She hurried away and snuck behind the bar.
“Stay out of it, old man,” Michael said.
“He bothering you?”
“Yes,” Charlotte answered.
“I said stay out of it. This is none of your business.”
“Oh, I think it is,” the older man said. “You heard her. Leave her be.”
He reached down and pulled a knife from his boot, taking it from the sheath. A glimmer of light flicked off the edge of the blade.
“You threatening me?” Michael backed away from Charlotte.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he said. He carefully ran his thumb over the edge of the blade. Michael glared at the older man before turning to Charlotte. He pointed a finger in her direction and backed off, heading for the front door. “This isn’t over.”
A car door shut outside, and moments later, the engine revved, spitting rocks. The older man finally slipped his knife back into place and turned to Charlotte. “You okay, doll? Did he hurt you?”
“No, but we used to…”
“Doesn’t matter. That doesn’t give him an excuse to act that way. You deserve better than that.”
“Thank you.”
“Sure. Just pisses me off when some douchebag kid treats a gorgeous woman like that.” Charlotte smiled wide, and he smiled back. “Name’s Logan.”
“Thank you again, Logan. I’m Charlotte,” she said. She offered her hand to him. The silver rings on his thumb and forefinger felt cool against her skin. Logan took his hand back.
“He won’t be bothering you again,” he said.
“I sure hope not.”
“Well if he does, let me know. You, uh, got a piece of paper?” Charlotte stepped over to the register and tore off a piece. She even grabbed a pen and handed it to him. Logan jotted down his number and handed her the paper. “Just lemme know.”
He turned and headed back to his table. Charlotte went back to her own work, getting ready to close for the night. As she lifted chairs on top of the empty tables and a strong gust of wind slammed the front door, startling her. Logan was nowhere to be found, but he’d left a wad of cash on the table. With a smile, she crossed the room and locked the front door, switching off the open sign.
Nearly a week passed before Logan appeared in the tavern again. A smile appeared on Charlotte’s face when he took a seat in the back corner of her section. While ordering a dinner of fries and a bacon cheeseburger, he asked if things had settled down and if she had to deal with any more harassment from anybody.
“Not at all. I haven’t seen him back in here since that night. I think you may have scared him away,” she said with a titter.
“Good. Glad to hear it.” He gave her a smile. She turned and started for the kitchen. “Charlotte?”
“Yeah?”
“When do you get off?”
“I actually get off soon. In about an hour or two.”
“Let’s meet in town, grab a drink, and talk a bit.”
“Sure.”
Logan gave her the address for the bar downtown, texting it to her cell phone, and Charlotte said she would meet him when she finished her shift. She turned and headed to the kitchen, finally putting in his order, her hips swaying with every step.
He ended up staying at the tavern until the end of Charlotte’s shift. Luckily, she had a tube of lipstick and mascara sitting at the bottom of her purse, allowing her to freshen up before going out. She rode to town with him, riding passenger in his truck. They talked, hitting it off rather well as they got to know one another.
They chatted and laughed about many things for hours. They related to feeling like an outcast in Hollow’s Creek, feeling lonely in such a wide wilderness. Charlotte even ordered herself an extra drink as the night went on, leaving her feeling great. She only felt a bit of disappointment when Logan drove her all the way back up the mountain to her grandparents’ house for the night.
�
�Who was that?” her grandmother said when she appeared through the front door.
“Just a new friend.”
Logan was on the edge of Hollow’s Creek when he glanced at the gas gauge. He pulled into the gas station sitting on the frontage road just a few yards from the exit and parked beside one of the pumps. He stepped inside the convenience store to get himself a drink and pay for his gas.
“And a pack of Camels, too,” he said, pulling out his wallet.
When he stepped back outside, his phone started to vibrate in his pocket, and he pulled it from his leather jacket. He sent the call to voicemail and went back to filling up his truck. It wasn’t until he was well on his way home when he called Bryan back.
“Michael said he tried to call you.”
“Yeah,” Logan said.
“Is it finished?”
“You asked me to check her out. I never said anything about killing her. And since when the fuck does my nephew boss me around? I’ve been doing this shit since either of you were born.”
“Yeah, I know, Uncle Logan, but I thought that was the idea. To kill her.”
“Listen, little shit. You asked me for help with this demon bitch, and I said I would. You want me to keep helping on this, then I’m gonna fucking do it my way.”
“Okay,” Bryan agreed.
He grabbed his cigarettes from the center console and dug one out, slipping it between his lips as he held the phone to his shoulder. He lit the cigarette and took a long drag from the end. Smoke billowed from his nose. “We fucking done now? Because I’m fucking done, Bryan.”
“And what about Michael?”
“I don’t fucking care what you tell him. I’m doing this my way, and that’s all you need to know,” He took the phone from his ear and ended the call, tossing the flip phone across the seat. He grumbled, taking another drag off the end of the cigarette.
He wasn’t expecting a phone call from either of his nephews so suddenly and especially not about the hunting job they’d asked him to take on. Hunting took time no matter the situation. He needed to look at and consider all angles before striking out and killing someone. He spent time in prison for his mistakes, and he didn’t want to make that mistake again. This young woman showed no signs of an evil bone in her body, but he had been fooled in the past. He needed more time with this girl.