"Listen, I've got a trip coming up to India. But I can swing by before I hit the plane."
"No, that's not necessary. I'll be okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Hey, I'll live, right?"
Victoria laughed. "That you will."
"Thanks for the talk."
"Anytime. You know I love you, Jack."
"Love you, too. We'll talk later."
Jack hung up. The pain was gone, at least for the time being, and replaced by a dull numbness. He sat on the front step for ten minutes. Erica flashed through his mind several times. Her smile, laugh, the way she'd roll her eyes when he put on a Marx Brothers movie. He'd miss those legs, and the way she wrapped them around his waist in bed, squeezing with all her might.
But in the end, he'd be fine.
The door opened quietly behind him.
"Daddy?"
He turned to face Tiffany, a look of concern on her face. He smiled and scooted, gesturing for her to sit.
"Hey, partner."
She sat next to him.
"Erica's not coming over anymore, is she? You're not boyfriend and girlfriend anymore?"
"No, Tiff. I'm afraid we're not."
"She stopped by my room when she was upstairs to say goodbye. She looked upset. I figured it out."
"That's because you're a smart girl."
She beamed for a moment. "Why doesn't she want to be your girlfriend?"
"Well, I guess she just didn't really like who I am."
"Then she's dumb." Tiffany crossed her arms defiantly. "Miss Hernandez is stupid. And that's not cool, because she's a teacher. How is she supposed to teach in school if she's stupid?"
It took two centuries of finely-tuned self control for Jack to contain his laughter.
"Don't worry, Dad." She took his hand. "We don't need her."
Jack hugged his daughter with one arm. She playfully batted his hand away after he messed with her hair.
"It's Saturday," Jack said. "What do you want to do?"
She brought a hand to her chin in thought. "You're sad. So we should get you some ice cream. Maybe we should see a movie."
"Ice cream and a movie. Just no chick flicks. Some action, or maybe a cartoon for you."
"Sure." She stood up and pulled his hand, dragging him to his feet. "It's gonna be okay. I'll take care of you."
"I know you will, sweetie."
CHAPTER 11
Marie rose from the couch and paced once again. Looking at the clock, only five minutes had passed since the last time she checked. She opened her laptop and randomly selected a station from the Pandora music service. She didn't care what genre or artist filled her apartment. All she needed was a distraction, anything at all to help push the thoughts away and keep them away.
The bar opened for the first time in six hours.
Nearly her entire savings were gone. The bar had been cleaned from top to bottom. New walls, new floor, new ceiling. A kitchen had been added.
Would people even want to eat?
There were three pool tables and two televisions mounted in the corners in front of the bar.
Would people enjoy the entertainment? Would they miss the jukebox she could never find?
She hired a small staff of four people. She'd paid for bartending classes for the group—not a cheap expense—and one of the staff already had experience as a short order cook at a diner across town.
Would four people be enough? Would it be too many? They seemed like good people, but would they even show up in six hours? Would they remember their training?
Werewolves didn't get sick. They healed from any injury naturally over time, with blood and meat speeding up the process. They didn't get a cold, or the flu, or diarrhea. The only thing that affected them was pure silver.
If that weren't the case, Marie would have been in her bathroom puking her guts out.
A good night's sleep eluded her the past few weeks. Even napping under the night sky didn't soothe her the way it usually did. She grabbed the map of Sandy Cliffs she kept on the end table. As she explored the woods of Sandy Cliffs once again, she marked off the areas on the map with a time and date. A historical journal, almost. It was a hobby, a pleasant distraction in the middle of the chaos that was her life.
It wasn't distracting her now.
Sighing, she put the map back on the end table and paced again. Her eyes fell on the car keys on the kitchen counter. The thought crossed her mind to drive to the bar, quadruple-check the layout, the position of the alcohol, the height of the stools, the lighting. The thought lingered more than thirty seconds, so she decided it was a good one.
She was halfway to the door, keys in hand, when a sobering voice spoke inside her head.
Six hours early was probably a little too early.
Marie tossed the keys on the couch in disgust. She was a maniac, and she was well aware of it. She had to find something to do to keep her mind occupied. A little beastly stroll through the woods? Terrible idea. Night was her friend, not the day. Maybe she could rent three movies and watch them in succession.
Or, perhaps, she could give in to the mania, and go to her bar.
Her pitiful excuse for a bedroom finally had a mirror. She stood in the middle of the room and examined herself thoroughly. She wasn't vain, didn't typically spend a lot of time primping or choosing outfits. However, tonight was a big night. She might not be able to control how many people showed up, but she could definitely control how she looked.
Despair tried to work its way in as she tried to think of what to wear, and nothing came to mind. She didn't need a flowing evening gown, but she needed to look good. What was good for a bar setting? What was good for a bar setting, as the owner? Her supernatural looks aided her. She had perfect skin, and a figure that mortal women frowned at in jealousy. But what clothes was she supposed to wear? Did she show some leg, shoulder, cleavage? None of the above?
It took an hour to decide on a pair of black jeans that hugged her curves, with a pair of boots that stopped above the ankle. Originally she went with a white blouse, but figured it would probably have beer on it by the end of the night, and decided to go with something darker. She playfully spun in front of the mirror, enjoying herself. Simple, but effective, and was sure to turn a few heads.
Marie thought about changing her hair, but decided not to experiment. Werewolves could control the color and length of their hair, but she'd grown used to strawberry blond and shoulder length.
Her hands actually shook as she drove to the bar. The parking lot was empty, a sight she hoped wouldn't remain throughout the evening. Emotions overwhelmed her as she stood in front of her bar, her parents' bar. She knew the world was full of the supernatural. Vampires and werewolves, just like her. They used their extended time in their own ways. Seeking fame and fortune, or simply living in the forest. Marie just wanted to have a successful bar.
She felt silly as a few tears leaked out, but she couldn't help it. The simple sign with the word Bar looked down from above the awning. From a marketing perspective, she knew the name had to change. Bar wouldn't set the world on fire as the people of Sandy Cliffs drove by. Perhaps Sandy Cliffs Saloon, or something along those lines. But Bar was what it was called when her parents were alive, and for this special night, in honor of them, Bar would do nicely.
"I miss you guys," she said aloud. "I'll try to make you proud."
A car slowed down and stopped behind her.
"Hey there," a man called. "Is that place open?"
She turned to see two men in a Mustang in the middle of the street. Marie wiped the tears from her cheeks and waved politely.
"It will be in a few hours. Tonight is the grand opening. Stop on by. We've got food, beer, drinks, the game will be on."
"Will you be here?"
"I'd hope so," she said, giving her best business-like smile. For just a moment, all the anxiety and near-panic faded away, replaced by a deep pride. "I own the place."
The two men spoke
to each other, unaware she could hear their entire conversation.
"You want to swing here later?"
"Yeah. I'll tell Ron to pick up the girls."
"If Linda doesn't come, I want first crack at her." The passenger indicated Marie.
"Cool. But if you crash, I'm next. She's fine as fuck."
She rolled her eyes. Such elegance. Still, she was somewhat flattered.
The passenger leaned back out the window. "We'll be back later tonight."
"Great. I'll see you then."
They drove away. Marie took comfort in the fact that at least they'd have a few customers.
She spent the next few hours killing time, and being nervous. She swept up the floor again, although it didn't need it. The kitchen was in perfect order, but she looked it over anyway. The bar itself was in immaculate condition. She turned both TVs on, but kept the volume low.
Her first employee showed up an hour early, just like she asked.
Rob Faraday walked through the open front door. Marie smelled him as he pulled up in the lot. She smiled and waved as she checked the shot glasses one last time.
"Hey, boss lady," he said. "Someone looks a little nervous."
"I've been nervous for weeks."
"You know, I think I noticed that. Back when we were learning about mixing drinks, when your hands shook and you dropped two bottles, I thought you might have been nervous."
Marie laughed. She liked Rob. The past few weeks were full of stress, and he helped lighten the mood. He'd fit in very well. She could easily see him behind the bar, flashing that crooked smile while he poured drinks, flirting with the ladies.
"How'd your day go at the grocery store?" she asked.
"Eh, about as fun as it gets, I guess. I know I said this before, but thanks for giving me a shot at this. If this place really takes off, hopefully I can make a lot on tips. Maybe even quit the grocery store. Stocking shelves isn't as great as it sounds."
"You're welcome, Rob. And if it doesn't take off, then you'll always have a place to stop by and shoot pool."
"It'll take off. I don't know many people, but I've been spreading the word."
"Thank you. Seriously."
He winked. "Hey, it's not just for you. I need to see me some honeys, and make some green." He took in the bar as well. They'd all been so busy the past few weeks with training and setup that they hadn't seen the bar quiet. "The place looks great."
The rest of the staff trickled in over the next twenty minutes, except one. Marie gathered everyone for a quick talk. Her heart pounded when she realized the person missing was the other female bartender scheduled to work next to Rob. She was either going to be late without calling, never a good sign, or simply not bother showing up.
She eyed up the crew. Rob and his missing partner were the bartenders, Jerry the short order cook. Nia and Marie would do a little of everything, fill in where needed. Take orders, deliver food, pour drinks.
It certainly sounded simple enough.
"Okay, guys," Marie said. "Are you ready for this?"
"Hey," Nia said. "Where's the other chick?"
"Has anyone seen her?" Marie asked.
No one answered.
"Well, then, we'll just have to handle it with the four of us."
Rob rubbed his hands together. "This will be fun."
A couple walked in, a man and woman, five minutes earlier than they were scheduled to open the doors.
"Is this place open?" the woman asked.
Marie smiled. "It is now."
*****
An hour passed. The sun was slowly setting, leaving the sky a beautiful shade of orange and purple. Something amazing happened that Marie had hoped for, yet still had her doubts.
The place was packed.
A group of men gathered around one of the TVs, watching the college football game. Two couples alternated partners in a game of pool, laughing and flirting. The bar itself was full, every stool taken. Nearly half of the booths were occupied, and Nia had to help Jerry to keep up. Marie held up her end, helping Rob behind the bar. She also made the social rounds when she could, checking in on customers and taking orders.
Her staff was doing great. Rob was clearly having the time of his life, talking to the occasional woman without a wedding ring. Jerry's cooking was a hit with the crowd. Nia was barely twenty-one years old, and there was a moment Marie worried about her work ethic, but the young woman proved her wrong. During a short lull, Nia played a game of pool with three men around her age. The bar was still crowded, but it was one of those rare moments no one needed a drink, everyone that wanted food had it. Marie wasn't so sure she liked Nia taking a break to flirt with three men, but it turned out she knew what she was doing, and wasn't on break at all. After the game, just before Marie went to talk to her, she led the three men back to the bar. Everyone ordered drinks, staying longer than they would have, thanks to Nia.
Everything was going wonderfully.
A part of her also couldn't wait for the night to end. There was one small thing she didn't even think about. She felt foolish as she hid in the back corner of the kitchen, away from everything she worked so hard to build.
Marie was a werewolf. She'd been a werewolf the past fifty years, longer than she'd been human. Werewolves had extraordinary hearing and smell, and she was in a medium-sized building with loud, smelly humans.
Even at the far end of the building, she could hear and smell them. Jerry's cooking, as lovely as it was, blended with the human scents and alcohol. She heard chunks of their conversations, mixed with laughter, cheering, and both TVs. It was almost sensory overload.
"No way! That wasn't a first down!"
"This place is pretty goddamn cool."
"Where's that gorgeous bartender with those tight-ass jeans?"
"Get me another beer."
"Hey! I told you, no ass touching until later."
Marie took deep breaths. Her vampire pen-pal once told her the overload was easier to handle with practice. The problem was she didn't make it a habit to hang out with a bunch of people in a room.
"What the hell was I thinking?" she said, holding her head.
"Marie? Hey, you back here?"
She looked up to see Rob leaning around the corner, waving.
"We're starting to drown up here," he said.
"Okay, okay. Sorry. Just needed a second."
"Hey, we're busy. Busy is good."
She joined him and walked through the kitchen. "Yeah. Busy is good."
Busy was about the right word. There were two rows of people waiting to get a drink. Nia was helping, but she was a bit slower than Rob.
Marie dove in with a smile. An elderly gentleman by himself wanted a shot of bourbon, and she reflected for a moment as she poured it. Her hands were five years old once again, her mother behind her.
"It's good to see this place open again," the gentleman said.
She gave the gentleman her attention, even as she served other drinks.
"Oh yeah?"
"It used to be a bar a long time ago. When I was a kid, on the way home from school, I'd poke my head in, more as a joke than anything else. The owners, a wonderful couple, would chase me off."
"They were just looking out for you," Marie said with a wink.
"They had a daughter, too. You look like her, a little, but you're far prettier."
"Well, thank you very much. Are you trying to get free drinks out of me?"
The old man smiled mischievously. "Is it working?"
"Not yet."
He snapped his fingers in mock frustration. "Oh, darn." He finally downed his bourbon. "Yeah, it was a real shame when the nice couple was murdered."
Marie froze. She was well aware there were older people in Sandy Cliffs, with long memories. She thought she was prepared, but as the elderly man paid for his drink and left a nice tip, the emotions flooded back.
"Marie? Hey, Marie?" Rob shook her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
She blinked and shook
her head, landing back in the present.
"Yeah, yeah. All good."
Busy was slowly turning into overwhelming. They were barely keeping up with orders, but with three of them handling drinks, the food side was beginning to suffer. Nia would run out to a booth to take a food order, deliver it to Jerry, then run back to help with drinks before delivering their food. Marie felt sorry for the poor girl.
Panic was just around the corner. When a customer, while nice and patient, had to come up to the bar to place an order for a burger, she knew they were in trouble. It was only a matter of time before people left, or perhaps stuck out the night, but would never return.
Anger and relief swept over her when she saw her last employee finally walk through the front door.
"Erica!" Marie called. She couldn't help the sarcasm. "Thank you so much for showing up."
She regretted her comment as soon as Erica's face turned red. It was obvious the young woman was having a bad day, and felt horrible. Marie didn't dive into her employees' lives. They all shared some laughs when they were learning to mix drinks, but the only thing she knew about Erica was she'd just moved to Sandy Cliffs from the east coast. She was starting over, just like Marie.
Erica was certainly dressed to make a tip or two. Short skirt, spaghetti-strap tank top. She wore her hair differently than the past few weeks, more forward. Marie realized it was an attempt to cover the old scar on her cheek.
"I'm so sorry," Erica said, stepping behind the bar. "My car broke down just when I left my damn apartment. I had to walk."
"You walked here?"
Erica nodded.
"Shit, Erica. Just call me next time. One of us would have picked you up."
"I don't have a phone in my apartment."
"No cell phone?"
Marie saw a shift in her expression. She'd triggered something.
"No cell phone either. I, uh, had to cancel my old number."
Marie was intrigued. Was Erica hiding from something? Running from someone? Just hated technology?
"Okay, well, as you can see, more people showed up than I thought. Can you handle the bar with Rob?"
Erica cast Rob a half smile. "I'm better than Rob."
Rob laughed and flexed an arm, drawing light cheers from the ladies on his side. "You ain't better than this."
Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse Page 13