by A. J. Downey
I set off in the direction of the boulevard and crossed at the corner. I kept walking, found Muller which was a one-way, and looked for the nearest building number. I started walking, completely lost on which way was north versus south or east versus west. Everything is backward here, I reminded myself. Water was east. Always east. You hit water and the next stop was jolly old England.
I rolled my eyes when the numbers were climbing rather than declining and turned around and retraced my steps, looking for ten-thirteen.
I found it. The gilded shingle hanging outside, the diving sea bird painted on it. I waited for traffic to clear and dashed across in the middle of the block, squaring my shoulders before I went inside.
It wasn’t noisy yet, but it was getting busy. The hostess smiled at me and asked if I needed a table for one.
“Ah, no… I was told to look for someone named Skids?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s behind the bar. Are you twenty-one?”
“Twenty-five, actually,” I said with a laugh. I knew I didn’t look a day over seventeen sometimes.
“Go on up,” she said and waved me past into the bar area.
I went to the bar and leaned my guitar underneath in front of one of the stools and slipped up onto it, waiting for the bartender to work his way to me. It wasn’t super busy in here, as I said, but there were a few patrons and it was certainly picking up.
“What can I get you?” he asked, sliding a bar napkin down on the rich wood in front of me.
“Oh, I’m not here to drink. Uh, Yale sent me? He said I should ask you if it would be alright if I played out front.”
“Yale? You Saylor Grace?”
I blushed faintly and said, “I am.”
“So you’re staying with Poe, huh?”
“How’d you know?” I asked and he chuckled.
“I’m his chief – I’m supposed to know these things,” he said with a wink and a crooked grin and even though his words could be construed as creepy or arrogant, everything about his expression and body language changed the tone to playful and kind.
“Seriously, though, I’m the president of the Indigo Knights, his club. We don’t keep things from each other. Especially not important things.”
“Things like,” and I leaned in close and dropped my voice to avoid being overheard, “moving strange girls into your shoebox of an apartment on a whim?”
He laughed. “Yeah, things like that.” He looked me up and down and sighed. “Be lying if I said we weren’t all worried about him. Poe just doesn’t do things like that.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. He must really be getting a good vibe off of you.”
“I’m not a trash human being, I promise.” I said. “Maybe a trash panda in that I’m cute, I like to stay up all night, and I will fight you sometimes for the rest of an apple or something – but definitely not a bad person.”
He laughed and asked me, “When was the last time you had something to eat?”
“I had a coffee this morning.”
“A coffee? That’s it?”
“Yeah and don’t think I’m begging because I’m not. I work for my money and my meals.”
“Ah-huh.” He eyed me up and down and whipped out a menu from behind the bar. “Either you pick something, or Reflash is going to do it for you. Now what’re you having?”
“I can’t really afford –” I stammered.
“I ain’t asking you to. Now what are you having?” He braced his hands wide on the inside edge of the bar and leaned heavily on them waiting on me. I pursed my lips and looked over the menu and settled on the cheapest yet most filling looking thing I could spot.
He gave a nod at my selection and took the menu and asked, “Now what are you drinkin’?”
I smiled and said, “Water?” and he raised an eyebrow.
“Brandy in some hot tea?” I guessed again.
His expression smoothed out into something more genial. “Right answer, you get a gold star.”
I laughed and he moved off and it was only then that I realized he hadn’t given me an answer on whether I could busk outside his establishment. I mean, I didn’t technically need his permission. I had a permit and it was a public sidewalk – but I always found politeness could and would take you miles and miles so I always tried to go the extra mile – and I need to write that down.
I pulled my backpack around into my lap and brought out my journal and pen and turned to the page where I was keeping scraps of lines and penned that one in among the rest, staring at them all, letting my eyes follow the curves of all the letters, doodling flowering vines around the borders, a moon and stars at the top of the page, willing the scraps and snippets to fall into order and for the notes to come together for a song to form.
It was remaining stubbornly elusive and was driving me nuts as a result, but I didn’t have time to think about it really, because a plate of food was set in front of me and I looked up – not at the bartender but at who could only be the cook himself.
“Hi,” I murmured.
“Hi,” he echoed in his thick New York accent. “You must be the mystery girl Poe’s got himself involved with. Skids said you were here.”
“We’re not involved,” I said, “but he’s helping me, yeah.”
“That’s not like him.” The cook leaned on the bar heavily and eyed me.
“So I keep hearing,” I said. I frowned slightly. “It’s starting to feel like I have to keep defending myself. I can fuck off if it would make you all feel better. I mean, I know you care about him and that’s good and I know the world sucks and I’m new and –”
He put a hand over mine where it rested on the bar to stop me and his standoffish posture eased. A teasing twinkle entered his eyes and his smile broke the ice.
“Relax, sweetheart. Ain’t nobody leveling any accusations. Yeah, we care about Poe but Poe’s a big boy. You’re all good. Skids seems to like you and Yale wouldn’t have sent yah here if he didn’t. Eat up, and you can go on out and play for as long as you like.
I felt the stiffness in my shoulders melt a little and said, “Thank you.”
“Lotta stigma around street people,” he said and took a deep breath letting it out slow, heaving a sigh that was weighted with a lot of things. I could tell he felt bad for having approached me with his preconceived notions and I pursed my lips.
“To be fair, stereotypes become stereotypes for a reason.”
He looked at me and nodded, looking a little chagrinned and took the forgiveness I extended like an olive branch. If these people were important to Poe, who was going so far out of his way and to his own personal detriment to help me? Well, I really wanted his people to like me. I didn’t want to make waves. I seriously wanted nothing but smooth sailing here.
He shut his mouth and nodded once and said, “That they do, doesn’t mean it’s fair to apply them liberally to people that don’t deserve it. I’m sorry if we made you feel like we did that to you.”
I smiled, nodded and said, “That’s okay.”
He wrapped his knuckles against the bar top and said, “Eat your food before it gets cold, and it’s on the house – we mean it.”
“Certainly do,” the bartender said setting my tea made with brandy on the napkin he’d placed earlier. “Sorry this took so long. Honey?”
“Yes, please.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be right back. Gonna grab my secret stash.”
“You have a secret stash of honey?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, girl we know cultivates honey bees. She gives us several jars at the harvest. We keep it in reserve for special guests and if you’re a guest of Poe’s you’re a guest of ours,” The chef waved over his shoulder and disappeared around the corner and back into the kitchen.
“That’s Reflash,” Skids said with a wink and went down the bar, returning with a mason jar of honey and doled some out with a spoon into my cup. He left the spoon with me and disappeared down the bar and I star
ted in on my chicken fettucine with broccoli and Alfredo sauce.
It was amazing and it took everything in me not to eat to the point that I didn’t have a sizeable portion of leftovers for another meal later on.
I waved down Skids and asked, “Could I please have a box?”
“Sure! You want me to keep it behind the bar here for you while you play?”
“Uh, yeah, that would actually be really great.”
“Was it good?”
“Oh, my God.” I rolled my eyes skyward. “It was heavenly!”
“Glad you liked it.”
“I’m going to finish my tea and get out there.”
“I got you covered, just don’t tell anyone there’s brandy in it.” He winked at me, and produced a paper cup and coffee lid from under the bar, poured the remaining contents of my mug into the cup, slapped the lid on and handed it over.
“Free refills on the hot water and as many fresh tea bags as you want. You just come find me.”
“Oh, thank you!”
“It’s no worries, it’s getting colder out there. Especially nearer the water like we are.”
“Oh, I know, it was the same on Elliot Bay.”
“Seattle’s a fun town,” he said.
“Oh yeah? You’ve been?”
“A few times back in my younger days.” He was summoned down the bar. “Whelp, got to go!”
I smiled and got up, shoving my journal back into my pack and my arms through the straps. I picked up my guitar case by the handle and my spiked tea in the other hand and with a satisfied and full belly went outside. There was enough of a ledge at the bottom of the window about a foot and a half off the ground to set my tea, saving me from having to reach down all the way. I opened up my guitar case and reverently brought out the instrument, putting the strap over my head and jimmying it back and forth to get it to slip down over my backpack.
I kept the strap on my guitar intentionally long to do this. I learned pretty fast as a street rat you never wanted to set down anything you didn’t have to. You set it down, it almost instantly became fair game for any pack poachers or thieves that might be lurking. I had too many important photographs in my journal and in my pack to want to risk it, even though I never kept money or my ID in it. Those were either in my pocket or in my little purse which was also across my chest but kept cinched high against my ribs under my jacket.
I got settled and plucked out a few experimental notes, gave a tuning peg a slight twist here and there and satisfied, tapped my foot and launched into a song and honestly? This was the most relaxed and the happiest I could remember being while playing in a long time.
7
Poe…
“You did what and you want me to do what now?” Yale stared at me hard like I’d lost my fucking mind, and I honestly couldn’t tell him I hadn’t. I mean, what I was doing for Saylor was nuts and could cost me everything. I mean, the rip I would get wouldn’t necessarily be a total career ender, but the trust it could damage with some of the other guys in the rest of the department? That was something you could never get back. You make a big enough questionable decision like this one and you could wind up having every decision questioned.
“Yale, I know –”
“I don’t think you do know Poe!” He went to his office door and shut it and I stood there feeling three inches tall compared to the prosecutor’s five-foot-five even though I was well over six feet. I looked down at him as his gaze smoldered in my direction and a muscle in his jaw ticked.
“Hey, none of you were really like this with Youngblood,” I said with a nervous laugh and his eyes blazed.
“One, Youngblood knew Chrissy. Two, Chrissy was gainfully employed with a degree, and with a roof over her head. She wasn’t some unknown street musician making poor life decisions driving across the country to live with some sight unseen internet boyfriend!”
“Okay, so maybe she was having a solid blonde moment – I mean, she is a blonde but I’ve already agreed to let her stay for a couple more nights.” I was hedging on the timeline hard, but Yale was smokin’ hot and acting more like my dad than my equal and brother. The only reason I wasn’t telling him to go fuck himself right now was that I could see how worried he was and truthfully, I got that.
If my best friend Blaze had come at me with this shit, I probably would have blown a gasket of my own, but there was just something about Saylor Grace and it wasn’t something I could explain. It was something that had to be experienced, and I thought that it was too damn convenient that she was parked outside Yale’s office at lunch and I figured if I could get Yale on my side, the other brothers would follow.
Yale was, after all, one of the toughest nuts out of all of us to crack. That, and I knew, if he just met her – even for only a few minutes – Saylor Grace would have him on her side and she could use every ally she could get in this city on her new start.
“I’m just asking if you could drop this off to her at lunch. If I did it, I’m gonna be late for my shift.”
He breathed in slow, in through his nose and out and grated out, “Fine, but only because I want to have a look at this girl so I can judge for myself and you had better be at church tonight.”
“Whoa, hey,” I said handing over the key on its key chain. “This isn’t club business.”
“Really?” he asked, holding up the fob with the key with the club crest on it. “You’re part of this club, Poe, and being part of this club means we look out for you as much as you look out for the rest of us.” He took a seat on the edge of his desk and I suddenly felt like I’d been called into the principal’s office. I tried not to smirk at the mental image. Now was totally not the time.
“That means, when it looks like one of our members is about to go off the rails it’s our duty and responsibility to get him back on track.” He fixed me with a hard look.
“Look, Yale, I know it sounds completely batshit fucking crazy, but I swear. She’s a good girl. She radiates it.”
“You run a background on her?” he demanded.
I smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Might not be up to your exacting standards but she’s got a couple of old charges in Seattle. Juvenile ones, so the records are sealed. I know she’s been a street kid since she was fifteen. She told me. I imagine it was vagrancy, maybe marijuana possession. Seems to be the thing out there with the recent legalization.”
“But you don’t know.”
“Not for sure, no – but I know her type, and I’m telling you, bro. She’s good people.”
“I really hope this doesn’t end with an ‘I told you so,’” he said with a reluctant sigh.
“Just hook me up, give her the key and judge for yourself. I swear to God, it will only take a couple of minutes.”
“I already agreed, didn’t I?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You did. Thank you.”
“I’d better see you tonight.”
“You will, I promise. As soon as my shift ends. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. I’ll get my ass directly to the 10-13.”
He looked calculating for a second.
“Fine. See you tonight.”
“See you tonight,” I echoed and left, I had to get to work.
I called up my best buddy, Blaze, first though. I didn’t want him finding out from the rest of the guys about this sudden turn of events. Plus, I hadn’t talked to him in a few days and didn’t want to be that kind of a dick.
He answered on the second ring and was like, “Yo!”
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
“I don’t know, you’re the one that called me.”
“Yeah, about that… I kind of did a thing.”
“A thing?” He laughed. “What’d you do, adopt a puppy?”
“Not exactly…” I filled him in and I swear the line went dead.
“You did what now?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you fucking serious, bro?”
“I wouldn’t joke about some
thing like this.”
“You two fucking?” he asked.
“Dude, no, it’s not like that. I’m seriously not trying to be a creeper. I’m just trying to help her out.”
“How long has this been going on?” he demanded.
“Two nights, that’s it, I promise.”
I shifted on the seat of my bike, the traffic going by on the street and Blaze said, “Man, you aren’t even close to forty yet, its way too fucking early to be starting a mid-life crisis.”
I laughed. “It’s not a crisis man. I’m good, I swear. I honestly don’t know how to explain it. She’s… she’s just different. A different kind of vibe, man.”
“You smoking something?” he asked.
“Seriously?” I demanded.
“What? You’re the one picking up stray homeless chicks off the street and moving them into your place without knowing a damn thing about them.”
“Okay, true. Okay, fair – but I’m pretty much asking you to reserve judgment until you meet her.”
Blaze let out a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone and said, “This isn’t you, man. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, man. I mean, I think so.”
“Not exactly a rousing endorsement, there, buddy.”
“I know,” I said. “I know this isn’t like me and I’m not sure what made me do such a big thing on such a whim… I guess I’m just stuck in a rut. Sick of trying to help and not really making a difference, you know?”
“Ahhh, I think you might be onto something there, man.”
I nodded slowly.
“I think so too. Thanks, brother.”
“What the hell did I do?” he asked laughing.
“Dunno, but talking to you tends to get me out of knots like this one sometimes.”
“Good deal. So when can I meet her, and what was her name again?”
“Uh, maybe this weekend? And her name is Saylor. Saylor Grace.”
“Pretty name. Different,” he mused.
“So is she, man. So is she.”
“I look forward to meeting her.”