Chapter Two

“Lily Pierre said that?” Linh asked incredulously, placing a tray of empties on the polished bartop. “And you’re saying Mister Growly Grunts is nothing special in the looks department…”

“Not even slightly!” Georgia confirmed, grabbing the beer glasses and dunking them into the soapy rinse bucket. “Vince looks as plain and exciting as vanilla ice cream but Lily was all over him like white on rice.”

“But Lily is super hot…” Linh’s almond eyes narrowed like she was trying to solve a complex riddle. “Maybe she has a thing for older guys? Her father left while she was pretty young, I think.”

“He’s not that old.” Georgia snorted back a laugh and about half a head full of snot, “I’d be shocked if there was more than a five year age gap between the two of them.”

“Truly?”

“Ladies, I need one of you pouring drinks and the other taking orders.” Their manager Sammy called from down the bar where she was working the ancient cash register. “There are customers waiting.”

That was a bit of a stretch. It was a Thursday night and that meant student night for the Latest Edition; a sketchy little pub at best trying to pull in the younger set by virtue of being on the same subway line as the local community college.

The curling wallpaper had faded long ago and the wainscoting still bore the patina of smoke stains from countless cigars back when it had been named the Cuban Club. That was over a decade earlier. The bar and timber tabletops were all polished bright but the upholstered stools and booth seats were threadbare and fraying from years of neglect.

Some wise-ass had scribbled “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” in permanent marker above the mens bathroom door and nobody had seen fit to scrub the damning words away. Maybe because whichever employee landed the unenviable job of hosing down the urinals and mucking out the stalls after closing time invariably agreed with the sentiment.

A random hodgepodge of memorabilia cluttered the walls in no particular theme or fashion. Framed rockabilly vinyl records were hung beside colorful Mexican sombreros. Dusty New York street signs pointed the way to tanning reprints of signed hockey team photographs over twenty years old.

“Sure thing, Sammy.” They said in practiced unison and Linh shot Georgia a cheeky grin as she grabbed a clean serving tray and wandered back out into the mostly empty bar.

They both liked Sammy. The battle worn ex-waitress had bought up the bar from the previous owner for a song, or so she thought at the time. But the recent economic crisis had resulted in a sharp downturn in local employment figures and an up rise in national interest rates that hit the struggling business and its blonde mid-thirties owner hard.

They both liked Sammy enough to keep showing up on nights like tonight when the only barflies in attendance were the few hard-bitten regulars sinking glass after cheap glass of draught beer as though trying to drown themselves. Not to forget the young German backpacking couple who must have been lost and the weekly meeting of a group of hipster college juniors who seemed to lap up the depressing ambiance that oozed from kitschy decor like a nearly physical miasma.

Linh had named them the soon-to-be dead poets society.

They fit the bill with their lank hair, obligatory skinny jeans and a gross excess of droopy tribal print scarves. Three girls and a tall rail-thin guy. Each carrying yellow legal notepads filled with their incomprehensible chicken scratchings and who all looked one bad break up away from cutting on themselves.

“Three glasses of red for the Emily Brontes and another draught for Hemingway.” Linh said, popping back into view with a playful smirk. “He’s been staring at your tits all night. You wanna deliver the drinks and schmooze up a decent tip?”

Linh’s idea of work attire was a light one-size fits small v-neck shirt that flashed a hint of her soft cleavage and a plain denim midi skirt. Nothing too daring but enough to attract the eye without inviting grabby hands. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a simple pony-tail and what little makeup she wore was sparing but accented her pretty Asian features well enough.

“You know I don’t do that. It’s not dignified and he smells like too much cheap cologne.” Georgia grumped then sniffled again. The bin under the bartop was fast filling with cocktail napkins that were pulling double duty as nose rags.

“Then make those clogged up sinuses work for you, girl.” Linh insisted. “You can’t eat dignity and you’re looking hot tonight.”

Georgia didn’t feel that hot. She felt like a pale snuffling mess with her barely there tits stuffed into a black Metallica baby tee and a studded leather biker skirt hanging off her bony hips. She only wore the damn skirt because Sammy had asked the girls to show a little more leg after watching Coyote Ugly (urgh) one too many times and they both felt like their overworked manager deserved any small edge they could offer.

That and they really needed this job. No matter how shitty the pay and conditions were. At least it was within walking distance of their apartment building.

“I could go over there and sneeze all over him. How hot do you think that would be?”

“Honestly, I’d take fifty-fifty odds that he’d be into it.” Linh snickered then turned serious when she noticed Georgia frozen and staring at the door. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s him.” Georgia hissed under her breath nodding towards the entry. “He’s here and not alone…”

Vince had just wandered off the darkened street in a pair of bulk-standard blue jeans and gray flannel button-up that had a splotchy orange stain on the front where he had spilled food on himself. His radiant aura of utter forgettability was still firmly in play but Georgia must have been missing something judging by the adoring looks the woman practically dangling off the young man arm was giving him.

She was tall, slender and very beautiful.

Dressed like a cheap floozy. Heavy on the black mascara and bubblegum lipstick. Clad in a shiny white scanty bustier stretched over her big bolt-on boobs and equally reflective crimson booty shorts clinging for dear life to her taut swaying ass.

Trashy but beautiful.

She was giggling at something he had said and her long peroxide locks were spilling across his narrow chest as she snuggled her stunning face up under his chin. Stuck fast together–she of the four inch sparkly knife heels and Vince in his customary scuffed sneakers–they wandered up to Sammy’s end of the bar.

“Really, that’s Mister All-Night-Long?” Linh gasped, radiating confusion back at Georgia. “Are you certain?”

“Why don’t you go ask her.” Georgia murmured in reply, staring meaningfully at the scantily clad woman trying to nibble on their upstairs neighbor’s ear. She was so much taller than Vince that she had to stoop to do so. “She seems to know something that we don’t.”

“Perhaps he’s a secret millionaire slumming it for kicks?” Linh suggested but looked skeptical. “Should we say something to him? About the nightly noise level, I mean.”

Sammy had grown unusually still as the scruffy young man spoke to her in tones too quiet for anyone else to hear. Their boss usually had a very stern no-nonsense attitude when it came to the dubious sorts that occasionally graced her beloved establishment. It was born of years of spirit-crushing wait staff experience.

But as Vince spoke to her–incidentally batting his mewling companions wandering hands away from his belt line–Sammy just stood there silent and nodding along with wide eyes and a slack-jawed look on her face.

“I’m going to talk to him.” Linh decided, squaring up her shoulders with resolve. “He has to learn that a girl needs her beauty sleep.”

“No, don’t go.” Georgia hissed but her roommate was already gone, marching down the length of the bar with her fists balled up at her sides. “Linh, come back here!”

Something was happening. She couldn’t put her finger on it but Georgia would have guessed that if the First Edition still had a working jukebox–which it absolutely didn’t–the record would have scratched the moment this unlikely pair stepped over its threshold.

It seemed to wash out from the two of them like a slow ripple in a pond of cold molasses.

First Sammy, then the regular trio of bitter muttering ex-municipal workers drinking away their benefit checks fell silent as they gave Vince and the bottle blonde furtive worried glances.

The youthful German couple was next. The smiling well-built man with his sandy beard suddenly staring hang-dog into the only lager they had on tap while his buxom chestnut-haired partner transmitted longing glances at Vince. Squirming prettily on her stool and gnawing at her plump lower lip.

Whatever it was must have washed straight past Georgia because the soon-to-be dead poets society had hushed their usual inane natter too. Two of the smoky eyed Emily Brontes looking away with blushing cheeks and the third scribbling furiously away on her legal pad with an intense stare locked directly onto Vince.

Hemingway looked like he wanted to slide under the table and evaporate.

Even Linh had a stutter in her step as she closed in on the fawning duo. Her body language broadcasted uncertainty, where only moments before she had been on a legitimate warpath.

Georgia watched her roommate slow to a languid hip-swaying sashay until she was only standing a few feet from the sex pervert from upstairs, fidgeting with her fingers held in close to her waist.

“Hi…” Linh peeped out, she sounded nervous and Georgia toweled off her wet hands ready to intervene. “I’m Linh… I–ummm…”

Georgia cocked her head to one side and frowned. Linh was usually little Miss Social with a quip for every comment and a mouth that could reach speeds upwards of a mile a minute. Sammy, Vince and Tits Galore all turned to look at her expectantly but that seemed to be all they were getting.

“Hi Linh, my name is Vince and this is Peppermint.” He said with a small nod to her. “I was just complimenting…”

He trailed off and looked at their boss expectantly.

“Sammy.” Sammy eagerly interjected, then blushed.

“...Sammy here on her lovely hair.” He continued smoothly and Sammy turned a few shades darker as she toyed with the hem of her apron. “It’s such a fetching golden color.”

“Viiiince~... you like my hair too, right?” The unlikely named Peppermint whined as she plastered herself to his side and pulled at his flannel like an attention hungry toddler. “You told me I was pretty back at the club.”

“You are pretty, Sweetheart.” Vince mollified her by resting his hand on one toned ass cheek and giving it a little pat. “I love how long and soft your hair is.”

The bar had grown deathly silent. The men looked squeamish and the women hung on his every word as though he were preaching the holy gospel. Georgia couldn't make sense of any of it, so she waited. Giving Linh her chance to dress the quite literally noisy fucker down.

“What about me?” Her roommate suddenly asked, shyly toying with her own long dark hair.

“You sound awfully thirsty for a barmaid.” Peppermint snapped, staring daggers at Linh and dragging Vince’s skinny arm deep into her barely concealed cleavage. Her breasts barely shifted despite the furious motion, both as solid and spherical as silicon packed cannonballs.

“Well, your hair is nice, I guess.” Vince conceded, craning his head a little to give the petite Asian a slow appraising up and down. “You have lovely dark eyes but your ass is better. It looks so tight and pert.”

Georgia fumed. This was blatant objectification. Harassment even. Sammy was right there and saying nothing as this nobody wandered in off the street with a goddamn stripper on his arm and started throwing about his chauvinist opinions like it was his god-given right.

He was clearly making everybody uncomfortable.

Well… the male population, at least. Linh had started bouncing excitedly on her tiptoes and fussing at her midnight hair for some reason.

“Hey, you leave them alone.” Georgia challenged, throwing her dish cloth on the bar and stalking towards them. “Nobody came here tonight looking for your validation, scumbag.”

The women gasped and the men all flinched as she stormed over to face him across the width of the bar. Backing up Sammy who was staring down at her own feet.

“Scumbag? Who–Do I know you?” Vince looked puzzled then glanced about defensively. “I mean, they did ask…”

“Georgie, it’s okay.” Linh piped up unexpectedly, “He was just being friendly.”

Friendly.

Yeah, guys were always just being friendly when bothering a girl who was just minding her own business. The creep’s hand was still on the fake blonde's skinny butt, squeezing it now. For fucks sake. Well, Mr Apartment 10a could go and be friendly somewhere else. Preferably somewhere with thick walls and good soundproofing.

“Nobody seems to mind--”

“I mind. So you can either buy a drink and sit down or get out.” She snapped, looking to her boss for support.

Sammy had shuffled a few steps away from her as though trying to distance herself from the conflict. It was as though the manager's usual bad ass bitch attitude had drained out through the soles of her sensible shoes. So much for solidarity among the laboring masses.

Then Georgia sneezed and covered her face with a hand as she felt her nose burst like a snotty hoover dam.

“I do know you.” Vince exclaimed, pointing at her with the hand not currently mauling the exotic dancers tooshie. Georgia grabbed up a handful of napkins and turned away to mop at her face. “Hey, let me apologize. I didn’t come in here to cause trouble. Honestly, I was just looking for a bathroom.”

“Oh, it’s just over there.” Sammy said, finding her voice at last as Georgia swabbed at her lips and chin with her back turned to the crowd. “Sorry about her, Georgia is feeling a bit under the weather. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Thanks, Hon but maybe next time.” His reply came and it at least sounded a bit sheepish.

Good.

Then he was gone and Sammy placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I think you should call it quits early tonight, Georgia. You look tired and you’re clearly not feeling well.”

“You’re taking his side?” Georgia couldn’t believe what she was hearing, Sammy was usually a staunch defender of her staff. All two of them.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m telling you to care about your health.” Her boss said in an infuriatingly calm tone of voice. Sounding like Georgia's mother. “I can see you are getting worked up but all he did was pay me a compliment.”

Behind them, the men of the bar were performing a mass exodus. Hemingway led the charge and the young German pulled his girlfriend with him. The brunette looked undecided if she wanted to leave or not.

“He called you Hon!”

“I’ve been called a lot worse names in my time.” Sammy told her with a gentle smile. “Now go home and get some rest. I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

Georgia looked to Linh, who in turn was staring at the door to the mens bathroom and licking her lips. The cute bartender gave a start when she noticed Sammy and Georgia staring at her.

“What? I thought he was nice.”

“Fine.” Georgia sagged in defeat and untied her apron. “I’ll go but I still think there is something weird about that guy.”

“I’m sure everything will appear a lot clearer after a good night's sleep.” Sammy reassured her.

“That’s half the problem.” Georgia muttered heading for the door and stepping out into the warm downtown humidity. “How am I supposed to sleep with…”

Looking about the empty street she slowed. Where was Spearmint or whatever her name was? She hadn’t been in the bar just now…

With a growing sense of unease Georgia peered back through the grimy window with the name the First Edition stenciled across the double glazing in peeling gold leaf.

Inside was a ghost town with only Sammy, Linh and the three Emily Brontes staring silently at the door to the mens bathroom with an unreadable mixture of expressions on their blushing faces.

Above it the scrawled graffiti read like an ill omen.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

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If you want to read advanced chapters or want to support my writing consider buying me a coffee. Cheers and happy reading!

Note: A kind soul has pointed out to me that an almost identical title by Mind Control legend Limerick already exists. Check out The Man in Room Ten if you want to read how a seasoned veteran does it.