Penalty Pub

A Little Bit Earlier

The woman's question startled Ramsey. Turning her head, the teen saw a brunette about ten to fifteen years older than herself standing behind her. She shivered as the wind picked up further, sending the light snow down at an angle. Finally, with an impatient gesture, the brunette nodded at the entrance.

"Oh, sorry," Ramsey apologized.

Opening the door, the sports bar's din hit her eardrums. Taking several steps inside, Ramsey's brain disseminated the origins of the racket. Loud chatter got overrun by louder televisions. Occasionally, a cheer or curse broke the commotion based on a game's play. An overwhelming smell of fried food caused her nostrils to twitch.

Once Ramsey caught up with the new experience, she immediately began scanning her surroundings. On her left was a small alcove with three round tables. Just past that was the establishment's long bar. Moving her gaze clockwise, she spotted a back room with what appeared to be at least two billiards tables. Ah, this was once two storefronts. The current or previous owner must have spent a considerable amount on the renovation. Ramsey surmised this as she noticed a half-wall with columns separating the bulk of the seating area on the right side of the bar. A two-step drop to get to the sitting area helped confirm her hypothesis. Seemingly everywhere, large flat-screen televisions played sporting events, most of them the annual New Year's Eve college football bowl games.

"Need to see your ID."

Disturbed from her observations, Ramsey turned to see a heavily built man getting up from one of the round tables to her left. Unsure what he said, the teenager's expression revealed her confusion.

"Need to see your license or ID," the bull-necked man repeated in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

"Oh, right, sorry."

The eighteen-year-old slid her hand down to her pocket, but her pocket wasn't there. At once, Ramsey's gaze dropped down to see the wrong colored coat. Oh, no! I'm wearing Norah's coat. I don't have my license...and I'm not old enough to be in here, anyway.

Panic began to set in as Ramsey looked up and then over at the large guy. She'd never been in a bar like this before, so she didn't know how he'd react. Putting on an act, she began patting down the jacket's pockets, buying time to think of what to do.

"Let her in, Travis. She's with me."

The voice and its content startled Ramsey. Wha...Darn it! How did I forget that she was behind me? While criticizing her lack of awareness, Ramsey **** a smile as the bear of a man backed off his demand.

"Sure, no problem, Peg."

The teen watched as Travis glanced at the giant television before sitting down again.

"Thank you. I...I must have forgotten to grab my wallet with everything tonight," Ramsey lied, showing off a sheepish expression.

"Whatever you say, honey," Peg replied before leaning in closer. "You'd better find the man you're in here for before the wolf packs notice you."

As Peg walked toward the bar, Ramsey gave the room another scan. Of the several dozen people inside, she now realized that only about half a dozen were women. One table in the front-right corner already seemed to have noticed her, as the guys nudged each other while checking the teen out.

Feeling uncomfortable, Ramsey knew she had a decision to make. She could turn around and leave or search for the man in the leather jacket. A good journalist doesn't back down in the face of an awkward situation. After telling herself that, Ramsey walked further into The Penalty Pub. Yet, it wasn't a confident movement as she still felt like a fish out of water.

Water! Perhaps I should get a drink, Ramsey mused. She'd noticed before that one thing that made a person stand out in situations like parties was not having a beverage in their hand. Speculation led the teen to assume that a bar might resemble one of the house parties Lacey and Whitney often dragged her to.

Slowing down near another gap in the wall and a small stair drop to the seating area, Ramsey lingered as she considered heading over to the bar. Glancing that way, she noticed Peg leaning over while conversing with a young female bartender. Assuming the bartender's nod was about a drink request, Ramsey hesitated. The ice had already been broken with Peg, leading the strawberry blonde to worry about Peg striking up a conversation if Ramsey came over while she waited for a drink.

No, I don't need questions to which I don't have answers. Maybe I should act as if I'm looking for friends in the seating area until Peg moves along. Yes, that is probably my best course as--Ahh!

Ramsey's fright came from missing the "No fucking way" and "Holy shit!" that rang out from behind. So when a hand reached out to grab her wrist, it caught her by complete surprise. And when it tugged her awkwardly down the stairs toward a table, the action scared her.

Oh, no! I've been caught!

"Well, holy fucking shit! It is Swift. I knew it!"

"Who?" a second voice asked.

"It's Ramsey! You don't know her?"

After nearly falling over after the tug down the two steps left her unbalanced, Ramsey regained her composure. With that accomplished, the inquisitive teen immediately turned to face the man still holding her wrist. Seated with three other men at a table, the junior reporter didn't need to access her internal Who's Who photo album as she swiftly recognized the man who had accosted her. Unfortunately, he wasn't high on the list of people she liked.

"Nope."

"Wait, what's her name? Is she one of those uppity bitches with a hyphenated last name?" a third guy asked, appearing confused by the two names he'd heard.

"Wha? No, she's not married! She's Ramsey Swift. Hangs out with some of the same high school girls as Jax's slutty sister," Tate Durrant explained, turning to give Ramsey a lookover.

"She doesn't look like fun."

"Nah, Ramsey's a good girl. I bet she's even a virgin still. Aren't you, sweetie?"

Ramsey cringed as Tate moved his hand from her wrist to her waist. The co-owner of J&T's Auto Repair with Caterina's older brother, Durrant, had a questionable reputation around town. Although Ramsey didn't care much for Cat and her opinions, she'd called Tate a creep on many occasions. And by the way he groped her waist, Ramsey felt that even Cat could be correct occasionally.

"Uh, hi, Tate. Um, Happy New Year. Are you guys doing anything special tonight?" Ramsey inquired, struggling to make small talk as the men's eyes explored her body. While she wore Norah's coat, the younger teen was smaller and less busty, which made the jacket highlight the strawberry blonde's curves.

"Looking at it," one guy grumbled. One friend elbowed him to shut up.

"Maybe. You looking for some fun?' Tate questioned, leering at the teen. "Sucks to be lonely on New Year's Eve."

"Ooh! I'm, uh, here meeting a few friends," the eighteen-year-old replied hurriedly.

"Anyone I know...wait, you're too young to be in--shit, girl, you got a fake?"

"Huh?"

"A fake ID," Tate clarified in a whisper while leaning into Ramsey further.

"No! I mean, they just let me inside," she replied.

"Guess they like your look as I do," Tate stated, his gaze locked on her chest.

"She looks like she's from the 50s," one of the guys commented.

"More like a time traveler," another cracked.

"Um, well, it was nice seeing you, but I need to find my friends," Ramsey said, pulling the hand off her where it had slid down to her butt.

"Aw, don't leave yet. Maybe we can hang out with your friends," the fourth guy at the table suggested, finally speaking.

"Yeah!"

"Um, thanks, but I really need to find them," Ramsey said. She started to back up but bumped into a person. Then, turning around, she flinched.

"Friend of yours, Durrant? She looks awfully young to be in here," remarked the man in the leather jacket, only he was now jacketless. "You've been warned about this before."

"What? My friend? No way, Kroy! I barely know her," Tate denied, throwing his hands up. "She's friends with Jax's little sister. That's how I know her--slightly!"

Suddenly concerned, Ramsey shot Tate a glare. Despite his creepiness, she could've used their acquaintance as an excuse for being inside the sports bar. Instead, she watched as the man Tate had called Kroy held out his hand.

"I'm going to need to see your ID, miss."

"My ID? Why?"

"I understand that you weren't carded earlier," Kroy stated.

"Um, well, let me find it," Ramsey replied, performing her pat-down act again. Finally, after a few long seconds, she attempted an escape. "Huh. I guess I forgot it. But that's fine. I think I mixed up where to meet my friends. So, I'll be leaving."

"Nice try, but no," Kroy said, blocking her way up the small stairway.

When Ramsey turned to head down the other route, she saw Travis' big body lumbering toward them. Before she could think of another way out, Kroy took a firm grip on her forearm.

"Let's go," he ordered, leading Ramsey not to the front door but to the rear of The Penalty Pub.

Despite a string of protestations and excuses, Ramsey couldn't talk him into letting go of her arm. Even worse, the arm being held was on the same side as the pocket with her phone. So she couldn't call for help.

Eventually, after passing the rear room with the billiards tables, they took a sharp left down a hallway. Ramsey saw the restrooms as they passed them, then noticed a door ahead with an Exit sign above it, leading her to believe for a second that she might be thrown out through it. However, about ten feet before reaching it, Kroy opened a door on the left side of the hallway, shoving Ramsey inside.

A slightly portly man with gray hair looked up from the desk he was seated before. Half-leaning on the desk was Peg. She looked up at Ramsey with a less friendly face this time. Ramsey started to open her mouth, but her words were cut off as Kroy pushed her to a chair against the wall.

"Take it easy! She's just a kid," the older man warned.

Ramsey estimated him to be in his early fifties with a second look that was more extended. She also speculated that he owned The Penalty Pub based on his occupancy of the desk and the way the other two reacted to his command.

"She's a snooping brat," Peg declared.

"And you're paranoid," Kroy replied, shaking his head at the slightly older woman. Ramsey estimated him to be in his early to mid-twenties.

"And you're oblivious!" the brunette shot back.

"Hey, what's going on?" the blonde bartender questioned, entering the room from a side door that Ramsey kicked herself for not noticing already.

"Your damn fool of a brother let a teenager tail him here," Peg responded.

"You're so full of shit," Kroy shot back. "I wasn't followed. Especially by a little girl!"

"I followed her the whole way here. She clearly followed you," Peg stated, rolling her eyes.

"Geez, you let her follow you?" Karen questioned, emphasizing her. "Way to ruin the Turner name."

"Shut up, Karen!"

"I'm not the one who got caught on the job by a kid."

"I didn't get caught!"

"Both of you shut up!" Peg ordered, clenching her fists.

"Well, who is she?" Karen asked, ignoring the older woman.

"Finally, a good question," the gray-haired man said, finally speaking. "What's your name?"

"You can't treat me this way. I've done nothing wrong," Ramsey argued rather than offer her name.

"I heard Durrant call her Ramsey, Sig," Kroy recalled.

"Ramsey, huh? What's your first name, girl?"

"I'm leaving. He had no right to manhandle me, nor do you have a right to keep me in here," Ramsey proclaimed, standing up.

Kroy immediately shoved her back down.

"Girl, I'm Sig Wiberg, owner of this bar. I don't need any demerits on my liquor license because of an underage drinker. So hand over your ID," Sig demanded, but in an affable tone.

"I...I forgot it."

"Kroy," Sig said, leading the young man to start searching Ramsey's pockets despite her protests and slapping his hand.

"Phone," Kroy announced, tossing it at Peg. "Ah, wallet," he added, pulling it out.

"Hey! Give that back," Ramsey ordered Peg.

"Password protected," Peg scowled after swiping on the screen.

"Well, looky here, an ID," Kroy announced, pulling it out of the wallet. "It says...Norah Almond."

"And you heard Ramsey," Karen mocked her brother.

"That's what I--Hey! This isn't you," Kroy declared, with an incredulous expression as his gaze alternated between the driver's license and Ramsey's face.

"Let me see," Sig ordered, holding his hand. He quickly studied Norah's ID before returning to the teen. "This girl is sixteen. I'm guessing that you're not that young. Still, using another person's idea at a bar is something the police frown upon."

"The police?! I've done nothing to warrant a police response," Ramsey argued.

"Talks like an old lady rather than a little girl," Karen chuckled. Then, she turned to speak in hushed tones with a person behind her.

"And how would you know what the police aren't interested in?" Sig queried, fishing for information.

"Don't lie either. Sig's a retired cop," Kroy warned, earning a dirty look from the older man for revealing that information.

"Trav says that Tate called her Surf. So, Ramsey Surf? What kind of a screwy name is that?" Karen asked in bewilderment.

"Ramsey Surf? Is that Travis?" Sig asked, peering around Karen. "Both of you get back to work. I don't need the regular staff getting suspicious and asking questions."

"Maybe it's Smurf."

"Like the cartoons? Gawd, Kroy, you're an idiot," Peg scoffed. "Those steroids have turned your brain to mush."

"Hmm," Sig sounded, watching Ramsey. "So, is that your name?"

"My name is none of your business," Ramsey declared, folding her arms under her chest. It was a move that she'd seen Whitney perform countless times. Copying her confident friend seemed like a good call in this situation.

"We'll see," Sig responded. Then, after a long minute, he turned toward Kroy. "You said that Durrant knew her? Alright, then go ask him her name."

Ramsey's poker face fell momentarily. Then, it switched to contemplation when Kroy exited via the same door they'd entered through. Ramsey began to consider the odds of her making a break for the door and fleeing through the nearby door with the Exit sign.

"Hmm," Sig sounded again, drawing Ramsey's attention to his studying of her face.

"Something up, boss?" Peg asked.

"Can't say...but her face seems familiar."

Ramsey began to fidget under the intense scrutiny. The strawberry blonde didn't like how Sig's eyes narrowed at one point. Nor did she like how he kept mouthing her name during his inspection. And she hated when the nod came after almost five minutes of examination.

"You recognize her?" Peg queried, also catching the head nod.

"Ramsey isn't a unique first name, but it's also not common. So that led me to think it's in honor of a relative," Sig began. "There aren't any Ramseys in Honey Hollow that I know of."

"Me neither," Peg chimed in.

"However, Beakburg once had a small amount of them," Sig said, causing Ramsey's heart to beat faster. "Interestingly enough, they owned the local newspaper for decades. They don't any longer. Still, one of those Beakburg Ramseys had a daughter who married another newspaperman down here."

"Ramsey...Swift!" Peg cried as she put two and two together.

"Yes, that pain in the ass Rollie Swift married a Ramsey from Beakburg," Sig recalled.

"You're Hearst's kid?" Peg asked, staring at the teen.

"No, no. Look at her. She's Hillary's daughter," Sig stated, fully confident with his guess.

"Oh, the kid she had with that basketball player from Moose Point!" Peg remembered. "Although she looks pretty tame to be Hillary's kid."

The door opened with Kroy returning.

"Hey, Durrant said her name is Ramsey Swift. She's Rollie--"

"We know," Peg interrupted.

"Did you also know she's close friends with the Stratton and Diamond daughters?" Kroy questioned.

"Is she?" Sig responded. His hands came together, forming a steeple with his fingers. "Now that's intriguing."

---

Ramsey watched as Sig interrogated Travis. The bar owner had already questioned Kroy and Peg about what they might have noticed at the Witzler Hotel. Now he wanted to see if his bouncer had noticed anything strange about Ramsey's arrival. Having overcome her initial concerns, Ramsey figured she could attempt an escape soon. In the meantime, she'd switched over to her reporter mode. It was better to make the most of this opportunity to learn as much information as possible.

Note: Known names so far: Sig Wiberg, Kroy Turner, and Karen Turner. Incomplete names: Peg and Travis. Facts: Kroy Turner paid individuals to disrupt campaign announcements with eggs, tomatoes, and/or ****. Unresolved questions: Why? Whose side are they on, if any, side in the election? Who is in command? Sig does not seem to be in overall charge of this operation. Who is it that Kroy wants to call?

"You did what?!" Peg shrieked at Kroy. The exclamation caused Sig to dismiss Travis back to his job.

"What's the problem now?" the pub owner asked from the room that connected the office to the small kitchen.

Ramsey saw her opportunity and lunged. Like her name, the teen swiftly entered her password before hitting the redial button for Norah. Then, she held the phone along her left side, hoping to hide it from the others.

"Kroy went all stupid again and called The Cellar," Peg revealed.

"I didn't call The Cellar. I called Butch," Kroy clarified. "And so what if I did?"

"You're the dumbass who got tailed from the job by a teenager. Do you really want to tell Clancy that before we find out what she knows?" Peg questioned, bringing her hand up to her forehead. "I knew I should've gone to Arbor Corners with Loretta."

"You did--Whatever! The damage is done," Sig said in resignation. Then, he walked over to the desk while glancing at Ramsey. A desk drawer opened with another cell phone following shortly afterward.

"What are you doing?" Peg inquired.

"Calling Jethro. I'm not dealing with Clancy's temper," Sig stated, making the call.

Clancy, Jethro, Butch, and Loretta. That's the Klackhurst family! Oh, crap! That's why they hate Lacey's dad.

"Yeah, it's me. We got a bit of a problem. I think your cousin might be coming here. So what? I don't want to deal with his shit. This isn't...yeah, yeah, I know. I didn't say anything. Just get down here."

Ramsey wanted to check whether the call to Norah had gone through, but didn't dare, as Sig watched her while he spoke. Then, Karen came back through the other room.

"We got some uppity bitch complaining about our wine selection. She's demanded to speak to the manager."

"Just kick the bitch out," Peg replied.

"No! I'm not losing any more customers because of your shenanigans tonight. Go deal with her, Peg," Sig ordered, looking weary.

"Why me? Fine, I'll do it." The brunette grumbled while leaving with Karen.

The subsequent development came almost as soon as they left.

"The hell?!" Kroy exclaimed.

"What now?" Sig questioned.

"Somebody's taking pictures outside!"

"So what? It's a holiday. People do that," Sig explained.

"Of the building?" Kroy waited until Sig rushed over. That's when Ramsey leaned over to look into the other room and noticed a row of monitors. "See? Flashbulbs are going off crazy."

"That's in the alley," Sig realized. "Get the hell out there."

Following his order, Sig rushed back to grab the pub's landline. He rapidly punched in Travis' number. Then, while ordering his bouncer to get outside as well, the pub owner turned so his back was to Ramsey. She countered by raising her phone to her ear and whispering Norah's name.

"We're coming," a voice replied. It wasn't Norah.