Just a City Boy (Midnight Train Series)

by V. L. Holt

  I clapped my hands together in satisfaction.

  I was going to miss my couch, I thought with a sad smile. But I pocketed the seventy five bucks. I wished I had done that three months ago, but oh well. Live and learn, as my mama used to say.

  Chapter Eleven

  The drug test was clean, as Zack knew it would be. It was Friday night, and he was ready for his first night. A clean snug T-shirt had been provided for him, and all he had to wear were his black cargo pants and black shoes. The T-shirt read ‘Bouncer’ on it.

  He marveled at his good fortune. Whenever he thought back to the disaster that was his first and only attempt at armed robbery, he shuddered inside and his brain threatened to shut down or implode. If only every mistake was as easy to sweep under the rug. In a way, he was grateful that the Mickey Cobras had tried to make trouble for Lauren. Without them, she would have simply run off into the night, and he would remain on her radar as a dangerous criminal. At least now she knew him for what he was…a broken man with a broken life.

  Be that as it may, he had a decent job. He just needed to make it work. There were some safety protocols he’d gone over with his superior, and he had a set of internal guidelines to follow too. He felt as prepared as he was going to get.

  He locked up his belongings and walked to the lounge.

  At night he was pleased to see that the matte black paint was accented by a long strand of white Christmas lights that wrapped around the soffits and there was another sign lit in blue neon that read: “Lonely Nights”. Underneath that was a cheap marquee that read “Lulu Tonight!” There was already a line out the door, and his shift wasn’t even supposed to start for ten minutes.

  He showed his ID to the guy he was replacing and took his spot.

  The evening wore on, him assessing the safety of guests and patrons and standing there looking menacing. He could pull off menacing; he wasn’t worried about that.

  At his break, he left his post at the entrance and ventured further inside the club. Now that it was full and open for business, he could appreciate the simple décor.

  Brenda had gone for that Big Band feel, with elegant faces of movie stars gone by done up in sepia tones. Low lights with green diffuser bowls cast a warm glow throughout the room. The wait staff wore 40s era waitress costumes and hairstyles, and all of the women wore bright red lipstick. He recalled a certain woman in red lipstick and felt a little hollow in his heart.

  He shook it off and asked for water with lime spritz from the barkeep. They introduced themselves.

  “I’m Matt. Worked here five years and counting. It doesn’t pay the best, but everyone is real nice to work with. Brenda made it a point not to hire any assholes,” Matt said.

  Zack laughed a little. “Well I consider that high praise since she doesn’t really know me,” he said.

  Matt smiled. “You’ll see. Brenda is a great judge of character. If you passed the drug test then you’re here because she likes you. Welcome aboard. Oh, and since you’re new, we’ll let it pass the first time,” he said.

  “Let what pass?” Zack asked him.

  “Standing with your mouth open when Lulu sings,” Matt said. He took a cloth and wiped down the bar counter and nodded his head toward the grand piano and stage.

  Zack held his drink and turned toward it. For the moment, only the pianist sat at the piano and tinkled keys softly with a blue spotlight heating up his neck.

  Then another light came on, and a woman walked to the front of the stage with a pair of stunning silver high heels, smooth beautifully shaped legs, and a green dress that flared at the knees and hugged her waist and breasts with bunched green fabric and had those straps that looked like pinup girls’ bathing suits.

  Lauren stood there, looking at the full crowd and smiling with that obnoxious red lipstick and even white teeth.

  Zack felt his heart slow to a stop, then rev up again, like a car that got a tank full of cheap gas. Then the pianist began the song and Lauren, aka Lulu, began to sing.

  Zack’s left brain knew he was standing with his mouth hanging open, but his right brain didn’t care. He was blown away. Her voice, conspicuously Southern-accent free, was rich and full as a maple tree in early fall. It was syrup being poured over buckwheat pancakes. It was molasses dripping from a spoon into a cookie batter. It was melted chocolate ready to receive a swollen strawberry for a nice thick coat of delicious silk.

  She sang about the street where you live, and he felt the best he’d felt in months. He wanted to cry. He wanted to dance with a girl. He wanted to hum along even though he’d never heard the song before. He heard chuckling behind him. Matt’s voice hovered over to him.

  “Told you you were going to stand there with your mouth open,” he said with a laugh.

  A waitress walked up to him with a big smile on her face.

  “Matt, did you see this?” she asked. Matt barked a laugh, and the waitress held her hand out.

  “Hi, Mr. Zack. I’m Kipper. I’ve been waiting tables here for a year and a half. Brenda doesn’t hire assholes, so I’m already looking forward to working with you,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.

  She was a cute little thing, with rich brown hair that fell in an elegant curve around her white neck. Her eyebrows were darkened and she had lashes so thick they had to be fake. As beautiful as she was, she didn’t hold a candle to Lauren, whose image Zack couldn’t tear his eyes from just yet, even though he was probably being really rude.

  Kipper laughed then too, and she and Matt chuckled together while she gave him a drink order to fill.

  On her way back to the tables, she bumped Zack with her hip.

  “She’ll be off at 1am, the same time as you,” she said with a wink. “Except she doesn’t date coworkers. She made that point quite some time ago,” Kipper said with a smile. “I’ll root for you, though!” She carried her tray into the crowd and tables.

  Zack shook off his ridiculous moonstruck expression and finished up his drink. He put the glass on the counter, smiled sheepishly at Matt with an affirming nod, and went back to his post. He was in charge of making sure the angel on stage didn’t get any overzealous fans. He should be able to spot the stalkers and the crazies pretty easily, considering it took one to know one. Yes, he was signing up to be Lauren Beckers’ number one fan. He’d be the president of her fan club, the treasurer of the Lauren Beckers for President Fund, the gatekeeper for Midnight in the Garden of Good and Lauren Beckers. He was sunk, plain and simple, hook, line, and sinker.

  It was going to be a long night, but as long as he could hear her sing, he was good.

  He wondered if she’d heard about the new guy, like Matt and Kipper apparently had, or if the singers kept separate from the wait and security staff. Did she know he was out here, listening to her sweet tones like she owned radio waves? Did she have any idea what her voice did to people? Matt and Kipper knew because they’d warned him.

  Zack continued carding people and double-checking large bags. He thumbed most people in without any problem, trusting his instincts about people. As long as no Mickey Cobras showed up, he was going to be okay. What he couldn’t be sure of was himself, if things got really smoky and if things got rowdy at all. His post at the door was the best possible place, because it gave his brain the illusion of security, that he could cut bait and run if he had to. Logically, he knew he was safe, but his body’s signals had gotten pretty mixed up overseas, and now he just couldn’t always tell. But he wasn’t going to court disaster. He needed this job now. It could work really well for him, and he could get the money he needed for that plane ticket. His ticket to ride.

  Chapter Twelve

  I’d barely gotten to work on time. Ray had shouted at me like he was on his fifth highball of whiskey, and I’d stood up to him like my daddy was standing at my shoulder. Ray knew about my “insurance.” I trusted he was smart enough not to push me too hard. So I stood there, feeling like the blast from his shouts was blowing my curls back like a stiff wind.
/>   When he’d died down a bit, I got my back up.

  “If you’re finished making a complete ass of yourself, I have to get ready for work,” I’d said in a firm voice. He hadn’t raised a hand to me. Yet. But I hoped he was getting the message that I was through with this. Because I sensed things could escalate. I wasn’t buying his food for him. I wasn’t letting him crash on my couch. I sure as HELL was not going to let him bully me like that. I applied my makeup with shaking hands. They hadn’t shaken like this since a couple nights ago when those gang bangers had been ogling me in my sexy waitress outfit. Ha! Those uniforms were boxier than Aunt Mabel’s church shoes. No, the only attractive thing about me in that dress was my vulnerability; I was certain that’s what the Mickey Cobras were drooling over.

  I wore my tennis shoes and carried my silver heels in my big purse. I could swear my biceps were getting bigger every day just from lugging my bag around.

  I made it to work just in time to change shoes and compose myself before I started my set.

  There were several regulars in the crowd; I loved those repeat customers. Mr. Woo, the Bartlett couple, Ms. Bailey and her son Bruce, the Haskell twins and the Myers. But I also loved when new people came in and heard me for the first time. I loved to see that light in their eyes when they were surprised at the voice that came out of my small frame.

  I began with “The Street Where You Live”, and let my voice fill the air.

  I knew there was something special about my voice. My parents had always told me so, and my preacher, and the school choir director, and my little Texas town pageant manager. But none of the colleges had taken the bait. I’d sent in YouTube videos and applications and nothing helped. I’d gotten a couple offers from the big schools for half-off tuition. That was nice and all, but if I was going to go to college, I needed a full ride. I didn’t have the money to go full-time and buy books and pay for lunches etc. So I sang here in “Lonely Nights” and I waited. I hoped and I believed. Someday someone would discover me, and my life was going to change like that! I snapped my fingers and startled Andy at the piano. I grinned, embarrassed, and he started up the next song.

  Just the Two of Us, one of my favorites, rolled out of me soulfully, and I sang with gusto, dreaming about the time when I would have someone to sing to at night. I looked out into the crowd, (the light array on this song wasn’t too bad for seeing the audience), and I smiled at the faces I recognized. I sang toward Matt at the bar, and Kipper and Tracy serving drinks, and projected my voice out to the back of the place, where I imagined my voice was floating upward and outward waiting to be pounced upon by an eager music critic. I performed several more songs, loving every minute until the posture of the new bouncer caught me off guard. He looked familiar. I sang Georgia and kept glancing at the bouncer. It couldn’t be. Could it? What were the odds? It wasn’t him, was it? Was it? I sang on, for the first time in months eager for the end of the set instead of dreading it. I had to meet this guy before he left. I wanted to see his face!

  I ended the song, bowed gracefully in my kick-ass green dress, and blew a couple kisses. The bouncer still hadn’t turned around so I could see his face. I bowed again and walked off the dais, shedding my rock star persona as I tripped around chairs and tables, and headed toward the back of the lounge. Lots of people stopped me and touched my arm, my hand, my back, congratulating and thanking me for my set. I smiled and nodded, winked, squeezed hands, trailed a hand behind me in the wake of people, and still headed for the exit, where the man stood with his back to the room, carding patrons and holding the velvet rope open or closed.

  I tapped him on the shoulder and he turned.

  I gasped happily.

  It was him!

  “Zackory!” I said. Without thinking, I grasped him in a huge hug, and he shyly patted me awkwardly on the back.

  “It’s just Zack,” he said in a soft voice.

  “Zackory, I can’t believe my good luck. I never thought I’d see you again!” I ignored him and gushed. I kept touching his sleeve, patting him as if verifying his reality. “So you met Brenda then? She’s the best! I love her!” I couldn’t believe it. He was right there, looking all yummy with his tight black T-shirt and big biceps and freshly shaved and cleaned up self. I realized I needed to back off a little. He was working after all, and technically I was too. Then I realized how I had shot myself in the foot with my dumb rule. No dating coworkers. Crap! How was I going to get out of this one? I took another step back and looked around, wondering if Harley had clocked in yet.

  Harley was the reason I made up that rule. He lusted after me big-time, and my rule was the best way to get him to stop coming on to me. Even knowing I had had a boyfriend for part of the time did nothing to dissuade him. Harley wasn’t his real name. His real name was Tom Corbin, but he drove a Harley and thus, his nickname. He was handsome enough, in an unkempt, smelly, beer gut kind of way. Something about him was off, though Brenda swore up and down he was harmless. Her policy was to never hire troublemakers, but I didn’t know…Harley seemed to slip by the radar. Or he had her snowed so good with his humble farm boy act.

  I didn’t see him yet, so I relaxed.

  Zack had gone back to monitoring the door. I felt pretty conspicuous standing there in my dress and shoes and costume jewelry, so I gave Zack a little wave when he glanced at me and I slinked back toward the dais. I had a glass of lemon water with a shot of honey that Matt gave me. I took a sip and made eye contact with Andy. It was time to get started on another set.

  Brenda ran a classy joint. She envisioned the speakeasies of the 20s, only with a classic twist of the chic designs from the 40s and 50s. But her clientele tended toward the older generation with a smattering of hipsters. Brenda’s dream was to eventually hire a big band on a permanent basis, and not just one night a week, and do a live radio show for Sirius XM, but for the moment, she was satisfied with my weekend performances. I had to ignore the fact that she seemed to have a soft spot for people down on their luck, because that meant to her I was some kind of project.

  I looked over at Matt. He was a single dad. His four year old son had Autism. He tended bar here on the weekends, and also hired himself out for corporate events. His mom was able to help out with sitting since his wife had run off to Vegas with another man. My gaze drifted across the room, landing on Tracy who dodged a reaching hand from dirty old McAllister. Tracy was attending Wayne County Community College with a little scholarship. She needed the tip money to pay for her books. She always looked hungry to me.

  I walked up the dais and headed for the mic. As Andy trilled a little something on the piano, I spied Kipper making her way to a table with a tray of martinis. Kipper was married with three kids. Her husband was battling cancer.

  As I began singing the opening to That’s the Way I’ve Always Heard it Should Be by Carly Simon, I thought about everybody’s story. The make believe stories I concocted about people on the train, and the real life stories of everyone here. Some I knew about, and others I didn’t.

  Carly’s sad lyrics moved me, and I let a little of that emotion come out. I wanted to know Zack’s story. My mama would say I was chasing again, but in this case, I couldn’t help it. Not only did I want to know Zack’s backstory, I wanted to be a part of his new story. I wanted to be a part of something that made him smile.

  I held out the last note and closed my eyes, feeling Andy’s notes shimmer up through the soles of my shoes.

  I smiled at the applause, and noticed Zack’s back, smooth T-shirt stretched across his muscles. There wasn’t anyone coming in at the moment, but he still didn’t turn to look at me.

  Lonely Nights was free of dry ice smoke, thudding bass, and cacophony of restless people. The lounge was more laid back and hopefully didn’t have the potential to trigger an attack for Zack. I supposed that’s why he was turned away from the crowd. And me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Zack kept his back to her.

  He was thankful for this job. It could
n’t have come at a better time. But he couldn’t quite believe his luck, as yet to be determined if it was good or bad. What cosmic mathematical forces brought him to the exact place she worked on the weekends?

  The woman he’d mugged, rescued, held in his arms, and then ran from, all in the space of a couple hours. He’d alternately wanted to see her again, and hoped she’d forget him with the sun’s first rays.

  Now her voice was stealing across his body in waves of rich velvet and silk. She sang like fire was in her veins, and her voice had the ability to strum his heart and make him feel things he thought were lost to him since he came back.

  He was embarrassed that the bartender and the waitress had predicted he would stand and gape at her like an idiot. Of course they couldn’t know he had a history with her…up until she’d found him and hugged him like they were old friends, instead of a perp and his vic. Now everyone in the joint knew they at least knew each other. Lauren had acted like they were close personal friends.

  He ran his hands through his thick brown hair and waited for more customers to show up. Every particle of him wanted to turn and watch her perform. She could sing, but she could also command the room. She made eye contact with her audience, she held out a delicate hand pleading for their attention, for their adoration, for their souls.

  He wasn’t going to turn. It was bad enough that the vision of her walking onstage in that green dress would haunt him for the rest of his life. She’d entered a glow of light, and it caught the jewelry around her neck, just something simple that glinted and brought attention to the slenderness of her neck and the graceful curve of her shoulders. Jewels sparked at her ears. The dress fluttered about her knees, accentuating her gorgeous legs that the tall spiky silver heels caused to flex. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

  A group of kids walked up. He checked IDs and waved them in, noticing the smell of alcohol on one or two of them. Their IDs checked out, but they had the attitudes of the untried when it came to drinking and partying. He’d have to keep a look out for them in case he had to keep them in line.