In a flash, the bartender was back with my drink. “Here you go. You need anything else?”
“No thanks. I’m good.” I smiled.
“Okay. Just give me a shout if you do.” He walked down to the end of the bar, leaned against it, and began talking casually with a man in a blue collared shirt who was sipping on a bottled beer. They were far enough away that I couldn’t hear anything that was being said. I assumed he was probably a regular that came here.
Still looking around the room, I was feeling even more out of place. This was just stupid! Who comes to a bar, sits in the back, and eavesdrops on the people around them? The guys in the suits were getting louder by the minute. The girls were getting gigglier, and me… still just sitting here. Annoyed, I turned back to take a sip of my drink when I noticed the bartender was staring in my direction. Was he staring at me? I tried to be really casual as I looked around to see if someone else was sitting near me. I didn’t want to be that person–you know–the one that sees someone waving at them and then starts rapidly waving back only to realize the happy greeting was meant for the person standing behind them. I looked back in his direction and smiled, but he never really changed his expression. His eyes were concentrated, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.
I finished my drink and decided I would be a little brave. I held my glass up a few inches from the counter and rattled it to show it was empty. He immediately walked over to me.
“Can I get you another?” he asked. To my dismay, he was still sounding matter-of-fact.
“Please.” I smiled. Still nothing from him. I realized that I would obviously have to start this conversation. “So, has it been a slow night?” This was sadly, the best line I had.
He was clinking glasses and shoveling ice. He paused for a minute, which made me a nervous. It was like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to respond, but he did. Finally, he smiled, even if it was only a little one. “Not too bad I suppose.” The whole time he never looked up from what he was doing. Placing the glass in front of me, he spread his arms out and leaned against the bar. “First time here?” he questioned.
So he wasn’t big on conversation, but it was a start. “Yeah…, I’m kind of a homebody. Not much on going out. I like…” He cut me off in a mid sentence, catching me off guard. “Would you excuse me for a minute? I have to restock.”
“Sure?” Only I said it a too late. He had already walked three steps away from me and then disappeared into the back room. How rude was that, or is it that I just repulse random strangers now?
Now that my confidence had been boosted by a negative two, I decided I would finish my drink and leave. It was apparent that I was not very good at any of this and should just spare myself the humiliation.
In myself-loathing, I somehow missed the angry voices coming from the three guys in suits. The playful picking must have turned into a heated debate. The more dominant man in blue pinstripes was towering over his friend, pointing and shouting obscenities. They were both getting madder with each nasty remark. My first reaction was to leave, but as I viewed my escape route to the door, I saw that it would lead me directly beside their table. I had to chance it. This night was going from bad to worse, and I did not want to be a witness to some bar fight caused by assholes who just couldn’t get along. This would be a decision I would soon regret. I had grabbed my purse and made it within a few inches of passing them when all hell broke loose.
The man in gray that was having a finger shoved in his face must have had all he could take because he reared back and clipped his friend right in the jaw, knocking Mr. Blue Pinstripes to the ground. I let out a gasp and stood frozen. The vindicated man in gray turned to walk away but then stopped. I wondered if he might have been contemplating turning to his ailing friend and apologizing. Unfortunately, Mr. Blue Pinstripes saw that as an opportunity or maybe even a sign of weakness. He picked up the beer bottle he had previously been drinking from. He pulled back to throw it, and I screamed…, “Look out!” The guy in gray turned and ducked just in time, but–be as it may–I was not as lucky. The bottle struck me on the left of my forehead then hit the floor, shattering. The pain was immense, and I felt my body giving way. I was weak and queasy, and I couldn’t stand any longer. As I fell to the ground, someone caught me, easing me down before I hit. It was the bartender.
Everything was blurry and unclear. I tried to focus. I watched the bartender pick the guys up by the scruff of their collars and drag them out. I was surprised. He was a big guy, but to haul off two men effortlessly was pretty amazing. Next I saw him motion the three patrons towards the exit–the last man in a suit and the giggly girls whom he helped walk out to avoid the fighting drunks.
I heard him lock the door and walk over to me. I opened my eyes, which took a lot of effort, and stared up at him. “Hi,” I said, looking dazed. I am sure I sounded somewhat silly, but I didn’t care. I was sitting in the middle of broken glass and bleeding. It couldn’t get any worse.
He ran his fingers over my wound, causing me to wince. “It’s just a minor cut. You won’t need stitches. However, that is a nasty bump.” He walked off and returned pushing a cloth full of ice against my head. “Ow,” I groaned.
His voice softened as he spoke. “Is there somewhere I can drive you?”
Moaning, I replied, “yeah, home.”
“I was thinking the hospital.”
I was not going to a hospital. Absolutely not! I had spent too much time in hospitals watching my mother fade away. That was the last place I wanted to go.
“No. I want to go home,” I said firmly.
“Of course.”
He helped me to his car, cradling my body against his. I buried my face into his shirt as we walked, the strong smell of his cologne luring me in.
He opened the car door and set me inside. When he climbed in, I babbled off some directions, hoping that I had told him correctly. It wasn’t that far away so I was sure he got the gist of it. As we drove, I couldn’t stop starring at him.
“I’m Azaleigh, but everyone calls me Az.” I surprised myself with how blunt and outspoken I was being. It must have come with the head injury.
He looked over at me intensely, causing me to scrunch down in my seat. “Azaleigh…, it’s a pleasure. I apologize that it was under these circumstances.”
I was waiting for him to introduce himself and was getting impatient. “And do you have a name?” I asked.
“Kale.” Again proving he was not a big talker.
Soon after, we pulled up to my apartment building. My head was still spinning as we made it to my front door. I fumbled for my keys. When I pulled them out, Kale gently removed them from my hand and unlocked the door.
“Well, thanks and good n…,” I had started to say, when he just walked right in. It was obvious he had no proper upbringing–either that or he was extremely confident that I wouldn’t toss him out.
I steadied myself against the door, watching him. He looked around the room and came back to help me in. Normally, I had a personal space issue and would have never been able to stand someone being this close to me, but for some reason I was completely at ease with Kale.
He moved me over to the couch and sat me down. “Do you have a first aid kit or anything?”
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, trying to piece my thoughts together. The pain was getting worse, and I felt like I was dozing in and out. “The medicine cabinet in the bathroom. There are some bandages and a bottle of pain medicine.” To be honest, I couldn’t remember if I had any bandages left or not, but I was certain about the pain pills. I had gotten those from my particularly graceful fall at the diner where I ended up with a contusion on my butt. I never took them because the one time I did, I exhibited my very best impression of Tom Hanks in Forrest Gump in front of Tannah and Jen. That was one embarrassing moment that I can't ever take back.
I heard him rifling through the cabinet. He reappeared with the bandages and the medicine. He handed me two pills and a
glass of water. “Thanks,” I said as the flashback of the Forrest Gump skit came back to haunt me.
With one knee kneeling on the couch, Kale leaned his body over mine to examine my head. He was really close, and the smell of his cologne loomed around my face once again. I felt my cheeks redden as he touched the area around my cut. My eyes were wide and fixed on him, although he never looked away from my forehead. I found it rather odd he seemed so straight forward and casual at the bar like he was a little self-centered, but yet here he was taking care of me. Maybe he just felt obligated since it happened in his bar. The strange thing was that I was an extremely good judge of character, and I do mean extremely. My mother use to say it was my gift. Obviously, she did not share this gift, or else I am sure she would have picked a man who would’ve hung around longer after finding out she was pregnant with me. However, I couldn’t get a good feel for Kale. He seemed to be peculiarly closed off.
At this point, the medicine must have kicked in. It looked as though there were two of him standing there. Yes, it definitely kicked in–I proceeded to open my mouth and speak. “You know you are very tall.”
“Um hm. I guess you aren’t feeling any pain right now, are you?”
I realized he was right. My head wasn’t hurting. Actually, nothing was hurting. Everything was all… good. My speech was starting to slur, and I sounded like I had had one too many to drink.
“Nope…, no pain…, all good.” I smiled at him while he added the finishing touches to my bandages.
“I will stay for a little while… until some of the swelling goes down.” I heard his voice, but it was faint and far away. My body had finally succumbed to unconsciousness.
Chapter 2
Seduction
The next morning, I woke with my head tingling a bit. I guess it wasn’t that bad, since I had taken a blow to the head. Suddenly, it dawned on me that Kale was there when I had fallen asleep. I wondered when he must have left, and then a creepy feeling came over me. I let a total stranger stay in my house while I slept. He could have been a psycho killer. Even though it was a little hard to imagine him that way, it was still a fact that I didn’t know anything about him.
I looked around my apartment for any signs that he might have left showing that he’d been there, but there were none.
There wasn’t much to say about my place; a single couch, a few throw rugs, and a TV–which was never turned on. There were no photographs on the walls, not due to the fact that I didn’t want them there, but the lack of having them at all.
Mr. Parker, who was a sixty-year-old man, lived down the hall from me. We usually checked in with each other two or three times a week. It was a little unspoken oath we had. Neither one of us had any family, so we kept tabs on each other regularly to be sure the other was doing okay. I figured I would walk down to see if he saw me come in last night.
I knocked softly on his front door. “Hello, Mr. Parker?”
“Just a minute, Dear.” His voice was barely auditable through the door.
“Well, hello Azaleigh.”
“Hi, Mr. Parker. I just wanted to check and see if you were okay. Sorry, I didn’t stop by last night. I got in really late.” I did feel terrible for not checking on him.
“I’m just fine, Sugar…, but you…, are you alright?” he questioned. Then I realized I must have been a grizzly sight.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just bumped my head.” I smiled to reassure him. I didn’t want him to worry. He was bad about that. “Did you happen to see anyone leave my place last night?”
He had to think about it for a minute. I am sure it was because he was a little unnerved that someone passed by without his knowledge. “No, I don’t think so. Did you have a friend over?”
I decided to avoid the question and just skip to the end. “Okay, well I best get ready for work. Do you need me to bring you anything after I get off tonight?”
“No Dear, I’m fine. You be careful, and I’ll see you later."
I waved and walked back to my apartment.
***
It was awfully slow for a Saturday. Normally, the diner would have been alive with the chatter of happy customers and the occasional fighting children, but today it was almost dead. Other than telling Tannah and Jen about my freak run in at the bar, we were all bored out of our minds. Jen was the other waitress working and the only person besides Tannah that I could technically call a friend. I don’t really know if she felt the same way about me. Jen was very much a socialite and made friends easily, so my status of being just an acquaintance was highly likely. Jen was–hands down–the most stunning person on the planet. Her long dark hair teased her waistline, and perfectly lined brows shadowed her hazel green eyes.
There were two of us waiting tables, and Tannah decided that only one of us was needed. “Azaleigh, go home!”
“What? I always get first dibs on shifts!” I demanded. My overreaction startled Jen.
“It’s okay, Tannah. I don’t mind taking off early.” Jen tried to say it like she was attempting to appease me, but I am sure there was some social activity she was hoping to attend.
Tannah would have been a great lawyer. Even at the diner, she wore fitted business suits, and no one would dare argue with her–they would surely lose. “Sorry, Jen. You’ve cut out early the last couple of times.”
I was fairly sure this was some great scheme for me to find a life. However, I really wasn’t interested. In the end, I gave up, threw my apron behind the counter, and left.
It was rather early in the evening, and this time on my way home, I didn’t stare at my feet as I walked the city blocks.
I carefully watched all the people on the sidewalk. Their conversations seemed to hold so much meaning with each other, and for a moment, I was a bit jealous of seeing couples holding hands and laughing, and friends teasing each other with playful remarks. It all seemed frivolous and yet so meaningful.
I very slowly walked in the direction of home when a pink and blue neon sign caught my eye again. My heart fluttered for a second.
“Kale,” I said under my breath. Thinking about him caused my breathing to intensify. I remembered him holding me close as we walked to the car, how he smelled, and how his eyes burned straight through mine.
I decided I would give in. I would step outside of my little box that I so carefully built and put myself out there. What would it hurt? The worse thing he could say is that he’s not interested.
Looking down at what I was wearing, I figured I should probably make a detour by my place first. A mustard-stained white t-shirt that smelled of grilled food screamed pathetic.
As soon as I burst through my apartment door, I started to fling things in every direction. I made it to my closet and realized what a pitiful sight it was. I only had a few tank tops, some t-shirts, and a couple of pairs of jeans. I rummaged through the closet in hopes that somehow someone else’s clothes had gotten mixed in with mine at the laundry mat, and I would have a fashionable ensemble awaiting my discovery.
Hanging lonely in the back of my closet was a dress that I had purchased on a whim but had been never worn. It was black and simple… and my last hope. I pulled it from its hanger and began unzipping it.
As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to look at my reflection, and hoping I would only have to do it long enough to apply some lipstick, I felt a strange sensation come over me. It was like someone was watching me. I felt the air turn cold and slightly move around my neck. I turned to look around the room and scanned the area but came up empty. “You’re just freaking yourself out,” I said to myself. I figured that my nerves were trying to get the better of me and decided to dismiss the awkward moment.
As I turned back to the mirror, I gasped suddenly as a flash of a woman appeared in front of me. She had white hair and white eyes, but I couldn’t be sure. It happened so abruptly. Maybe it was just the reflection of light from the window.
“What the hell was that?” I asked myself, cautiously looking at
the mirror.
I shook it off even though I was feeling anxious. I tried to remember the task at hand. I finished throwing myself together and headed downstairs and out onto the city streets.
I hurried down a couple of blocks to the bar. Tonight, it again sounded lively and entertaining. I walked in and made my way to the back of the bar where I sat during my first visit here.
No one was behind the counter, so I assumed Kale was attending to some bar-tenderly duties. Whatever those might be.
I was a bit too impatient and began to fidget. I looked down at what I was wearing. The dress was a little too sophisticated for the bar atmosphere, and my jacket was a little too casual for my dress. I decided to remove the jacket to help hide the fact that I was apparently a complete mess and had no sense of elegance or fashion.
I canvassed the area. There were only a few people there–all sitting at tables.
“How’s your head?”
I looked up to find Kale standing in front of me. “Hey… It’s… good.” I stuttered. I felt my chest aflame from the sudden burst of adrenalin. It was totally irrational to be this excited or nervous over seeing someone I had just met. “Thanks. I mean… for staying the other night.”
“No problem. I very much enjoyed your version, of ‘I Will Survive,’” he said, while trying to hold back a small chuckle.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, thinking to myself this couldn’t be good.
“Quite a voice you have there.” He looked at me completely entertained that I had no clue what he was talking about. This was catastrophic in my book of disasters.
I decided that changing the subject would be in my best interest. He must have been reading my mind because after that he said, “so, you work at the diner down the street?” I assumed this was some of the information I had offered up in my medicated haze.
Flesh and Feathers Page 2