Crimson Groves

by Ashley Robertson

  I slammed the phone down hard on its receiver. I was shocked it didn’t break. Lifting my gaze to the mirror behind the wall of alcohol, I saw Mel and my other customer turn back toward the football game. Obviously I’d just put on a show for them, but at least they were pretending not to notice a thing.

  “Stupid jerk!” I breathed. I hadn’t heard from my father in so long, and the only reason he wanted to talk to me was to warn me that I was in danger. What did he mean that I was special and that he knew? Who was he talking about anyway? None of that conversation made any sense. But my dear old dad had nothing to worry about. Since my breakup with John, I’d pushed him and everyone else out of my life. There was no one left that could hurt me, and I had no desire to let anyone in my life anytime soon. Sure I was lonely, but it definitely beat being heart broken. Didn’t it?

  I’d always wished and prayed to hear from my father, to see him again. But now, after that insane phone call, I decided I was better off without him. My father had gone off the deep end—whether it was alcohol or drug related, I wasn’t sure; it could’ve been both for all I knew. That actually made the most sense. My father got wasted and then called and told me all that stupid crap about how I was in trouble and that he was going to come get me. Ooooh, I’m so scared. Maybe my father should come help me. Not! But I bet you that’s exactly what he wanted.

  Shaking my head in disgust, I pushed my father and that deranged phone call out of my mind and tried to refocus on my work. The dining area of the restaurant was starting to seat people and that meant drink orders for me. And since I was the only bartender working tonight, I didn’t have to split my tips in half. Yay for me! I stole one more minute to mentally pump myself up with some positive thoughts (okay, so I tried), and then started to make my way toward the service window. There were already a few drink orders waiting for me, brightening my mood a little.

  Ring, ring, ring—the phone barged in, causing me to spill some of the Stoli vodka I was pouring. Dang it! I scolded myself, then set the bottle of booze on the counter and headed the few steps to the phone. My hand hesitated a moment, hovering just above it. This couldn’t be my lunatic father again. No, surely it couldn’t. “Thanks for calling The Beacon, this is Abby, how can I help you?” I was more confident this time—you could hear each individual word.

  “Abigail, please do not hang up. Please. You have to listen—” A loud banging sound burst through the headset of the phone making me yank it away from my ear. It sounded like a fight had broken out, no doubt from whatever bar my father was in. He’d probably pissed off some other drunk and then said something stupid. I tried to put the phone back to my ear, but the ruckus coming from the other end was still too loud. I felt shivers crawling up and down my spine. My heart started beating faster, harder. Even though I had zero respect for my father, the thought of someone else kicking his ass left me feeling uneasy and confused.

  Then there was a deafening shriek, and my father, or maybe it was the other drunk, screamed out in agony. The horrible noise reverberated over and over. I swallowed hard, trying to get my heart out of my throat, but it was stuck there like peanut butter. Sweat beaded up on my forehead; my neck felt sticky. After what felt like forever, the screaming trailed off taking the other noises with it. I pressed the phone to my ear trying to hear anything. Anything that would let me know my father was okay. “Hello, are you there? Hello!”

  Then, the line went completely dead.

  2

  Encounter

  I STILL HELD THE PHONE TO MY EAR even though there was no one on the other end. My body was numb. Confusion filled my mind. What just happened? I’d never imagined that the first conversation I’d have with my father would be like that. Did that horrible scream really belong to him, or was he the one responsible for it?

  I set the phone back on its receiver and returned to the service window, where five more drink orders were waiting to be filled. Like a robot on autopilot, I poured the contents of each drink.

  After mulling it over for a few minutes, it occurred to me that the whole thing could’ve been a hoax. An awful prank that he’d played hoping to win me back as his loving daughter. When he realized he wasn’t going to win the “hero” card with me, maybe he’d shifted gears to the “father in distress” card. Perhaps his goal now was to get sympathy from me. What a sick man my father had become. Or maybe he was like that all along and he did both my mother and me a huge favor by leaving us.

  Unfortunately for my father, I was unable to see any positive reasons he would call and put on such a show for me. If I really were in trouble, why would he care? I’d been through my fair share of hard times, and no daddy around to help. So that made it even easier for me to assume that my father was a drunk, and worse, that he concocted that stupid scheme as a way to slip back in my life. What a terrible thing to do to someone, let alone your own daughter.

  I kept busy making drinks with shaky hands, trying to keep an emotional safe distance from everyone. Twice Mel asked me if everything was okay and I just brushed him off with “Sure, it’s all good.” Dennis, the other bar patron sitting with Mel, refrained from saying anything at all, except, of course, when he needed a refill of his Chimay Reserve.

  Over the next hour, the busyness started to die off. Mel and Dennis still sat at the bar, their attention razor sharp at whatever game was playing as they munched on a mix of cashews and almonds. I started cleaning some of the used glassware in the mini sink behind the bar. My mind kept replaying the two phone calls from my father over and over again—not that I wanted it to. I was stuck in a loop and wasn’t sure when I’d free myself from it.

  At the moment I was about to lose my mind, a very attractive guy came walking through the door. Feelings of peace and serenity drifted through me like a gentle whirlwind. Those mind-boggling thoughts of my father faded away. The guy passed by the hostess stand, which featured wine lockers for our VIPs directly behind it, and veered toward the bar area. Our eyes connected at that moment and I quickly looked down feeling busted, embarrassed.

  I know it’s impolite to stare, but it was impossible not to look at him. Slowly I raised my head back up and there he was, still heading toward me as if we were in a slow-motion movie scene. He passed a few booths along the front windows, which provided an excellent view of the street. A great place to sit and people watch. Then, he swerved around a couple high-top tables in the center of the bar area. Some of my regulars preferred this setup when they dined since the service was so much quicker than in the dining room. If you sat in their dining room, the servers would give you the finest of dining experiences, which could easily hold you hostage for hours.

  Then he made a beeline for an empty barstool at the opposite side from where my other customers sat. He was tall, maybe about six feet, with a rocking toned body, angular jaw, sexy plump lips, and silk black hair framing his smooth handsome face, sweeping to the sides just below his deep, dreamy eyes. He wore dark blue jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. He was beautiful, perfect. And he was looking right at me. My heartbeat accelerated, thumping violently inside my chest. Tingles raced up my back and down my arms like sharp electric currents. I took a deep breath and almost forgot to exhale.

  His elbows found the counter and his chin came to a rest on his hands. His fair skin almost looked white, ghostly, but the sexiest ghostly I’d ever seen. I wanted to touch him, stroke my fingers across his pale, flawless skin. I’d bet it would be soft like clouds. My pulse was hammering in my head. I could taste my heart in my throat. My body was hot with desire and lust. I had never been so attracted to someone in all of my life.

  I looked away, shaking my head, but the heat still burned like hot wax on my skin. I handed Dennis another frosty mug filled with Chimay Reserve. My hands were shaky; my throat felt tight, compressed. It was time to go meet my new customer. My steps were slow but confidant, my body feverish, electrified. Our eyes locked again, I couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. I needed to see him. I wanted so much more.<
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  “Hi, I’m Abby Tate.” I smiled shyly and reached out my hand. It felt natural and comfortable to be close to him. “What can I get for you this evening?”

  He took my hand inside his, squeezing gently. His ice-cold skin snapped me out of whatever daze I was in. I removed my hand and stepped back. He was watching me very steadily. “My name is Bronx Granger.” His voice was like a cool wind in my head—relaxing, hypnotizing. “I would like a Crown and Coke, please.” He grinned at me—brilliant.

  I was his all over again. Bizarre excitement to get him whatever he wanted sprung to my mind. “No problem, Bronx.” I nodded, smiling gently. “Coming right up.” I grabbed a clean glass set next to the sink and turned around to get the Crown. I felt him watching me as I threw in some ice and combined the ingredients of his drink. He was probably making sure I didn’t under-pour the Crown and over-pour the Coke. I gently stirred it together and began to garnish it with a lime.

  “I do not need the lime. You made it perfect.” His tongue danced over his lips. I watched it stroke back and forth, entranced, dazed. My whole body felt light as feathers. At any minute I would float away.

  I bobbed my head up and down slowly. “Here ya go then, and thanks.” I handed him the drink, and his fingers laced into mine when he took it. They didn’t feel cold anymore, soft, warm, and arousing. My whole body shivered. Tingles spread all over my flesh like a wildfire blazing through a dry forest.

  Mel called out, “Hey Abby, I’m ready to put an order in.”

  I shook my head, stepping back. I needed to catch my breath. My chest burned. What had just happened? “Be right there.” It wasn’t easy to talk. My voice was husky. I gave a long sigh, looked up at Bronx. He smiled slightly, dreamlike. I did not want to leave him. But I did, somehow.

  I briskly headed to the other side of the bar, feeling restless. “Alright Mel, what can I get ya?” I usually made healthy suggestions on what he should eat, but it was too much work to think about that right now. The only thing I wanted was to get back over there with Bronx.

  “I think I’ll have the sliders, medium rare, and a side of the Parmesan crusted fries.” The Beacon served their sliders in twos, instead of threes like a lot of other restaurants, and garnished them with fancied-up sides of tomatoes, onions, and lettuce. I did not protest against Mel’s order like I had a million times before.

  “No problem. Need a refill on your wine?” Even though I asked, I hoped he didn’t. That would cost me more time, time I didn’t have.

  “Sure Abby, thanks. And thanks for not lecturing me this time about the calories and fat I just ordered.” A slight jiggle moved through his waistline as he leaned forward to sip the last drop of wine from his glass. Tiny beads of sweat started to form on my forehead. I just couldn’t move fast enough. Mel’s lips still moved; he was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him anymore. I gave him a polite smile, fake and forced, and anxiously looked back at Bronx. He was watching me and didn’t even try to hide it by turning away. Where did this gorgeous man come from and why was he staring at me?

  I raced over to the touch-screen computer, centered between the two plasma TVs, and typed in the food order. Then I quickly opened another bottle of house cabernet. I was cautiously aware of Bronx’s presence while I poured the wine in a glass, trying to remember to smile at Mel as I handed it to him. The invisible magnetic force between Bronx and I was getting stronger, more urgent. I needed to go to him, couldn’t resist being closer. I turned and walked that way.

  “Hey, Abby,” Dennis called out, halting me. “Can I get a Jack instead of a beer this time?” I headed back reluctantly. Dennis was about Mel’s age but thinner, a lot thinner, almost skeletal, with a sunken face, dark circles under his eyes, a wrinkly bald head, and long boney fingers nudging his empty mug toward me.

  “No problem, Dennis,” I said with a counterfeit smile, trying my best to maintain a polite composure with my loyal regulars. Neither of them had seemed so demanding earlier, but then again that was before the perfectly gorgeous guy arrived. Were they jealous? Ooh gross! I rolled my eyes and got busy making Dennis’ drink.

  I moved so fast, I was lucky I didn’t spill or break anything. With that fake smile plastered across my face, I set the drink in front of Dennis and turned around, heading straight to my gorgeous new customer. Perhaps Dennis thanked me but I didn’t hear it. My mind was tangled up on Bronx like gum stuck in your hair. Why did I want to get back to him so badly? Desire and lust rushed my heart like a stampede. My mind wrestled in trying to make sense of these over-the-top feelings. Thoughts on how I didn’t know him zigzagged between wanting to know him and needing to feel close to him.

  Each step closer to Bronx became more comfortable. I looked down at my feet briefly, feeling a little self-conscious, and then back up at him. Our eyes locked together as if they were padlocked. And that’s when the room began spinning. I felt dizzy and disoriented. I grabbed the countertop, steadying myself, unable to look away, inching closer and closer to him. Then I was there, no more than a foot away from him. His eyes were deep dark pools full of mystery. I couldn’t tell if they were blue, black, or a combination of the two. All I knew was that they were inviting me into him. His face was flawless and smooth. I imagined myself touching it, caressing it. Running my hand over his cheek down to his lips, and then gently moving my fingertips across them. What was I thinking? This was crazy. I was completely caught up in him.

  He broke the silence. “Is it possible for us to talk a little? I would love to get to know you better.” He stretched each word out, making it last.

  My cheeks flushed warm. I was definitely blushing. None of this made any sense whatsoever! Why was I so mesmerized by him? What the hell was I feeling? For the last six months I’d successfully shielded myself from anyone who hit on me. How did this strange but beautiful man just barge right through my barrier?

  “That sounds great. What would you like to know?” That was my voice! I said that! I tilted my head slightly; my hair fell sideways, sweeping over the side of my face. Some might have mistaken it for a flirtatious gesture, which it was. What was I doing? I just did that without even thinking. My body was in some strange, trance-like autopilot. I’d never been like this before, swept off my feet by a wannabe Mr. Prince Charming. I’d also never been interested in anyone I met at a bar. That was a rule I’d had long before my relationship with John, and it bounced straight back at me once he got caught making Mandy a friend with “benefits”.

  “Abby sounds like a nickname. Is that true?” He sipped his drink, glossy, moist lips brushing against the glass.

  I nodded up and down. “Yeah. My real name is Abigail but I don’t really like it all that much, so I go by ‘Abby’. I was named after my grandma, but she passed away shortly after I was born.” I started twisting rings with my hair.

  “Abigail it is then. Of course if that is okay with you?”

  I nodded without thinking. Yes, of course, that name bothered me but it was okay if he called me it. What was I doing?

  He gave a graceful shrug, smile widening across his face. “You are absolutely beautiful, if I may be so blunt, and I would much enjoy learning more about you. It appears slower than usual tonight. I thought this would be a good time for me to come in and meet you.”

  Is this guy for real? Should I totally freak out right now? Or is this the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me? I couldn’t shake the amazing vibes I was getting from him. I could feel my pulse hammering away in my head. His eyes seemed to get deeper, bottomless. I couldn’t look away. They sucked me inside. All of a sudden I was paralyzed, frozen, couldn’t move, couldn’t think anymore. I was his, mesmerized, captivated. He was in full control and I wanted him to have it.

  I leaned in closer—because that’s what he wanted. My hair swept across his cheek. His neck tensed. My mouth hovered near his ear. “Have you been watching me?” I whispered. “Why wouldn’t you come inside before now to meet me?” I lifted my head back up, just en
ough to find his eyes again.

  He half laughed. “Would you believe me if I told you I was afraid to approach you? Afraid you would not receive me the way you are this evening?”

  “Well, I’m very happy you made it in tonight.” I said it, I meant it, but I did not recognize my own voice. I knew I should see a red flag and run for my life. This perfect guy had been watching me, stalking me. Didn’t he have anything better to do? He was gorgeous and could probably be with any woman he wanted. Why me, an average girl that bartended for a living? How could that impress him? How could he think I was pretty enough to come in here and say that without even knowing me? He was either a total freak or this was love at first sight, which made me a total freak to even think that. “What else do you do, besides watch me?” I asked, smiling.

  “I work from home. My house is not very far from here. I like to go hunting. I am very good at it. I also enjoy long walks at night, preferably when there is no moon.”

  I took a deep breath; it was steady, didn’t tremble. “I don’t live that far from here either.” Didn’t know why I said that, but I did.

  “May I escort you home when you are finished here?”

  Without thinking, I nodded.

  We talked a little longer, smiling, laughing, and carrying on like we had known each other for years. I’m not really sure what we were saying. My mind felt empty, blank. A few other customers came in, pulling my attention away from Bronx. I was able to breathe again, like my head had lifted out of the water. My hazy state of mind sharpened, and I took down the new drink orders with a plastic smile.