“Monde said it didn’t matter. He said he would take care of things.”
“Tina, don’t be fooled by the stuff you see on television. The fact is that the bloody clothes you were picked up in are now with forensics. If they determine that it’s human blood, we would have enough to charge you.”
For the first time, she seemed to be flustered, chewing her lower lip nervously.
“You can’t do that, can you? I didn’t do anything!”
“Then you had better tell me what happened. All of it, starting from the beginning.”
She leaned on the desk and sighed. He sipped his coffee and watched her, waiting patiently until she was ready to continue. She looked tired and waxy under the harsh strip lights of the interview room. After a few minutes, she leaned back and looked him in the eye.
“It doesn’t really matter anyway, but if you want to know what happened, I’ll tell you.”
Thomas picked up his pen.
“Tell me everything, starting with how you met Monde.”
Two
Quint’s bar was the only place to go in the small town of Oakville. During the day, they served hot lunches and the place had a mellow, easy-going feel. Tina didn’t work the dayshift. Her clientele were a different breed; the factory workers and hillbillies who were looking to unwind after a hard day’s work. The nights were noisy and smoky, and she’d lost count of the number of times she had been groped or had her ass grabbed by some too-drunk-to-remember Oakville native. She had noticed the man watching her from the end of the bar when she first arrived for her shift. She only noticed him because he looked so completely out of place that it was impossible not to. It was just after eleven, and even though the place was now almost full, and getting more and more rowdy, he still hadn’t moved. He simply sat and sipped his drink. He was very tall and thin, with broad shoulders, and was dressed in an expensive looking crème suit. As he toyed with his vodka, she could feel his eyes crawling over her. His skin was naturally tanned, and he had a thin moustache and slicked back jet-black hair. She didn’t normally like men with facial hair, but it somehow looked right on him. She couldn’t decide on his nationality—perhaps Italian or Spanish.
She glanced up and found his brown eyes still locked on to her intently. Tina quickly looked away, embarrassed. She gathered the rest of the bottles and headed behind the bar and into the kitchen area, enjoying the brief respite from the country music being stomped out by the house band. Lexi was there, leaning on the stainless steel counter and sipping a beer.
“Here she is, the object of affection,” she said with a smirk.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Tina. You know what I’m talking about. The guy in the suit. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he came in.”
“Cut it out, Lexi, he isn’t watching me.”
“Oh come on, T, surely you must have noticed. He’s not even trying to hide it. You should go talk to him.”
Tina had known Lexi for the three years she had worked at Quint’s, and although they hadn’t liked each other initially, over time they had become friends. Lexi was more confident than Tina, and was unafraid to respond to the drunken approaches and gropes of their customers with verbal abuse of her own, somehow knowing just how far to push without crossing the line. At twenty-three, she was two years older than Tina, and she dressed like a punk rocker from the Eighties. Skinny jeans and vest tops were her thing, and she had that maddening knack for looking stylish in everything she wore. She was naturally pretty, with smooth skin, green eyes, and full lips, which made her hugely popular with the men. She considered herself a free spirit however, and wasn’t the type to get bogged down in relationships. Lexi tucked a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear and took another swig of beer.
“I’d lose my job, Lexi. You know how Stokes feels about us getting too involved with the customers.”
“Fuck Stokes,” Lexi replied with a chuckle. “He’s a fuckin’ prick with an attitude problem. Besides, he’s holed up in his office and probably won’t show his fat little face tonight anyway.”
“That’s easy for you to say, you always seem to get away with whatever you want.”
Lexi offered her beer, which Tina took a long drink from.
“It’s no secret, T. I just know how to push his buttons enough so he doesn’t fire my ass. People like him walk around all angry and self-important, but it’s always just a front.”
“I need this job, Lexi. I don’t wanna rock the boat, that’s all.”
“Are you kidding me?” Lexi responded, taking the offered beer back. “It’s not like you have your hands in the fuckin’ cash register or anything. Even a dick like Stokes can’t fire you for talking to a customer.”
Tina chewed her lip and turned back to Lexi.
“It’s not just that, Lexi. After the business with Paul, I really don’t need the hassle of men; I’m going through a lot right now.”
“Oh come on, T. You need to stop moping around and get back out there. Besides, old crème suit out there looks rich. Hell, I would go for him myself, if he didn’t have such obvious eyes for you,” she said with a small smile on her black painted lips.
“I’ll give it some thought. Look, could you watch my tables for five minutes? I need to use the bathroom.”
“Yeah, no problem, you go right ahead. I’ll pass Mr. Smooth your best,” Lexi said with a wink, then disappeared through the swing doors into the bar.
Feeling anxious, Tina went through to the back, heading for the employee bathroom. She glanced into Stokes’s office as she did so, but he was busy with bookkeeping, the top of his bald head moving from side to side as he worked through the books. She was glad. The last thing she needed was any more crap from him about unauthorised breaks or whatever else he decided to complain about. She watched him, his small fat hands working quickly as he counted money. Even from the doorway of his office, she could smell his cheap aftershave mingled with sweat and felt her stomach roll a little. He was a nasty piece of work all right, and seemed determined to make up for his physical and social shortcomings by pressing his authority on the staff. Even the gold plaque on his desk stank of self-indulgence.
Henry T. Stokes
Manager
She wondered why he even had it. It was unnecessary, and probably more for his own benefit than anything else. She glanced to the family photograph on the wall, the one that said more about Henry Stokes than any amount of bullying or nastiness could ever hide. The five-foot-four Stokes smiling awkwardly beside his mountain of a wife, who towered over him by a good seven or eight inches. There was no way of sugar coating the fact that she was dog ugly at best. Their daughter stood in front of the mismatched pair, with her father’s bug eyes popping out of her chinless face. Tina suppressed a smile and walked quietly past the office entrance. She reached the small bathroom and went inside, locking the door behind her and basking in the silence. She shot a repulsed glance at her mirror image, and realised she hated the person she had become. Three years in the same dead end job and nothing to show for it. Her stomach vaulted, and she knew she needed to do it now, before things got worse. Besides, she always felt better after.
She removed the small zip bag from her purse and carefully opened it. Inside were her most prized possessions, the only things in the world that made her happy—her drugs. She took inventory:
Heroin. Needles. Cocaine.
She had tried to convince herself that she was only a recreational user, but knew deep down that she was gradually becoming the dreaded ‘A’ word. The one that people like her always insisted they would never become. She had a definite need for it now. It took her to a warm, fuzzy place, and allowed her to at least tolerate the mess her life had become. The heroin was for later, back in her damp, cold flat, where she could finally drop the act that she was as happy and content as everyone else. She opened the small wrap of cocaine and arranged it into two neat lines on the counter top. Then, holding one nostril closed with her finge
r, she snorted it up, blinking as the numbing electricity overcame her. It was less than she would usually take, but it would be enough to see her through until her shift finished at three. Only then could she ready herself for the main event—the bliss of her beloved heroin. It was the one constant in her life that never seemed to let her down; the best relationship she ever had. Straightening her hair and making sure she hadn’t left any evidence behind, she headed back to work, feeling more confident for the shift ahead—even though the need for smack was already tugging at her guts.
Back in the bar, the band was just finishing their cover of Roy Orbison’s “Pretty Woman,” and Tina thought they were doing a decent job of it. She watched the locals dancing as the band surged towards the song’s finale, and felt embarrassed for them. They looked ridiculous enough when they were sober, but add alcohol and jerky dance moves into the mix, and you were in for quite a sight. Fortunately, she had mastered the art of keeping a straight face long ago.
Her eyes drifted to the strange man at the bar, and unsurprisingly, he was looking right back at her. She couldn’t read his expression, but she also could not deny that she was attracted to him. He was by far the pick of the bunch here in Oakville—the land where mullets and beer bellies were king. As she crossed the room towards the bar area, she could feel the men leering at her with their half-drunken, glassy-eyed stares. The room was suddenly too hot and the air too thick, and as she reached the bar, she exhaled deeply. She watched the band finish their set to drunken whoops and scattered applause while she collected herself.
“You look like you could use a drink,” a voice spoke from behind her. It was smooth, deep and confident, and she knew it belonged to him—to the man in the Crème suit. He was looking at her, watching intently, and she felt her heart skip with giddy excitement. There was something in his eyes, a deep, animalistic intensity that both scared and aroused her.
“I could, but I don’t think my boss would approve of me drinking on the job.”
She half expected a cheesy line or clumsy response here, but the man only nodded, still watching her as he swirled the dregs of his vodka around in its glass. She looked at his hands, his fingers long and thin, his nails manicured. She imagined him touching her with them, running them over her body—she blinked, pushing the thought aside.
“I haven’t seen you in here before,” she said, regaining her composure.
“Yes you have,” he replied as he drained his glass and set it down. “You’ve seen me watching you.”
She smiled at him nervously, but his face remained neutral, his eyes intense and locked on hers.
“You certainly don’t sugar coat it, do you?” she said, flashing a smile at him.
“When I see something I want, I take it. It is the only way. Tell me your name.”
She felt herself blush with embarrassment as she looked at him. It wasn’t a request. It was a demand.
“Tina. My name is Tina,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice from trembling.
“I am Monde... Tell me, why do you work here, in a place like this?” he asked, cocking his head at the room that no longer seemed to exist for Tina.
“It’s not by choice, believe me, but the bills won’t pay themselves.”
“You are far too beautiful to work in a shithole like this.”
“I don’t know about that,” she replied, feeling a hot flush bristle on her skin.
“I can take you away from all this. I can show you a world you have never seen before.”
“You don’t even know me...” she said, this time unable to keep the tremble out of her voice. He reached over and took her hands, his skin hot to the touch. Maintaining eye contact, he leaned in close and whispered into her ear.
“I can give you everything.”
As he pulled back, his eyes still fixed on her, she wished it were that simple—that she could just walk out with him and leave everything behind.
“I can’t...”
Monde didn’t seem at all put out by this. Instead, he offered his perfectly white smile and released his grip on her hands.
“Tomorrow, I will take you to dinner. Be ready at eight."
She laughed but saw something change in his face; a millisecond of rage that was enough to make her stop and explain herself.
“Look, you don’t know how great that sounds, really... But I’m working tomorrow. In fact, I work almost every night.”
Monde didn’t respond, he simply reached into his pocket and took out a business card. It was white and his name and number were printed on it in gold lettering. She didn’t think anyone actually carried business cards anymore, and smiled as she took it.
“You are persistent, I’ll give you that.”
“If you change your mind, call me.”
“Look, don’t get me wrong here; I’m interested in seeing you again. I don’t want you to see this as a brush off, but I really don’t know when I’ll be able to see you.”
He smiled, drained his glass and stood. For the first time, she realised how tall he was. Jimmy who worked behind the bar was around six feet tall, but Monde had at least six or seven inches on him. He straightened his jacket and turned that deep, brown-eyed gaze onto her again.
“One thing you will learn about me, Tina, is that I get everything I want.”
“Well, don’t be disappointed if you don’t hear from me. I can’t just leave my job. You understand that, right?”
He flashed his smile again, and her heart skipped.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said softly and made his way towards the exit. She watched him go, waiting to see if he would turn around and look back at her from the door. He didn’t and she felt suddenly deflated. With a sigh, she picked up her tray and went back to work.
Her shift ended at three AM, and she had gone home exhausted, eager to fix some of the H. She locked herself away in her dingy apartment, and felt more alone than ever. As she cooked up the shot that would get her through the night, she looked at the business card Monde had given her. Clean, straightforward, to the point.
Monde
555-2624
She siphoned the heroin into a syringe and readied to inject herself, wishing there was a better way to dull the pain of her life. Rolling down her elbow-length, fingerless gloves, she looked at her arms, which were deeply marked with scars from self-inflicted cuts. She did it less now that she had her heroin, but on those occasions when she couldn’t afford it, she would take out the razor blades. She selected a vein, the skin around it already bruised from months of injections into the same place. She inserted the needle and slowly depressed the plunger, the immediate rush of heat overcoming her as she slumped over onto her bed. She felt warm and safe, cocooned in from a world she no longer had any connection with.
Three
She woke to the maddening vibration of her mobile on the bedside table. She had been dreaming of Monde, of him making love to her, carefully caressing her as she looked into his deep, brown eyes, whispering hotly into her ear about giving her everything she ever wanted. Now roused from her dream, she grabbed clumsily at the handset, fumbling for the answer key.
“Hello?”
“Tina? It’s me.”
“Hey, Lexi, what’s going on?” Tina stifled a yawn as she glanced at her alarm clock. It was just after nine AM.
“Are you fucking kidding me? There was a fire at the bar last night.”
She was immediately awake and sat up in bed.
“Holy shit. What happened?”
“Nobody knows yet. Could be an electrical fault.”
“Was anybody hurt?”
“Nah, place was empty, but you should see what’s left of it. I’m down there right now.”
“How bad is it?”
“It’s gone. Burned to the fuckin’ ground. Looks like we just got the night off. Hell, what am I saying—it’ll be months before they get this place fixed up again. I was saying to Sasha that…”
Tina wasn’t listening anymore. She
was thinking of Monde, of how he had been so sure she wouldn’t be at work the following night. Surely he couldn’t have had anything to do with the fire. No, she wasn’t thinking straight. No one would burn down a bar just to free up a date. Especially not someone as refined as Monde. Right? She saw his card tossed on the bedside table and picked it up, wondering if she should call or make him wait a while. She already knew the answer. She was desperate to see him again, and her dream of being with him had not faded away as dreams often did. Lexi was still talking, about what Tina wasn’t exactly sure, as she had been too lost in her own thoughts to pay much attention.
“Hey, Lexi, do you want to meet up this afternoon for a bite to eat? I could do with some advice.”
“Yeah sure, where do you wanna meet?”
“You know that bar down on the corner by Oakfield Park?”
“Yeah, down by the Italian place right?”
“That’s the one. How about we meet there around twelve?”
“I’ll be there. Is everything ok, Tina?”
“I’m fine. I just need a friendly ear, that’s all.”
“Is it about Mr. Crème suit?”
She felt a stab of anger and jealousy at Lexi’s slightly teasing tone.
“Yeah, it’s about him. I’ll fill you in when I see you.”
“Ooh sounds exciting. Ok, T. See you in a few hours.”
“Thanks, Lexi. Bye.”
Tina hung up the phone and thought about the implications of not having a job. Remembering she had a little heroin left, she decided to shoot up and sweat the job problem later. “Tina, you stupid bitch,” she muttered to herself as she cooked up the last of the potentially lethal drug and pumped it into the same vein as the previous night. She promised herself that would be it. No more now that it was gone. But then again, resolutions always sounded better with a head full of smack. She felt that familiar warm blanket envelop her, and she drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Dark Corners - Twelve Tales of Terror Page 8