With my rifle in a bag up on my shoulder, I moved through the turnstile and jumped on the next Red Line train. I had a ways to go before my stop, and I found myself a seat near the back of a car, facing forwards. I hated it when there were only backwards-facing seats available. Sideways was all right, but riding backwards made me want to puke.
I really did hate that feeling.
Two nuns in traditional garb got on the train at the next stop, and I watched them carefully. I had been raised by nuns, and though most of them were pretty decent, the ones in power were just as corrupt as the powerful in any organization. It was a lesson I had learned firsthand at a very early age.
“You are turning into a charming young man, Master Arden.”
“Thank you, Mother Superior,” I reply with a smile. I feel no love for this particular woman, but I have a plan I intend to see carried out. “You know I have so many questions for you…”
It had taken months, but I had eventually worn her down. Found her collection of sex toys and ultimately convinced her to let me out of that hellhole as an emancipated teen. It was either that or I tell everyone about the Harley-themed vibrator in her top dresser drawer.
The thing was totally frightening.
These nuns didn’t even sit down but got off the L at the very next stop and went on their way. Having them off the train made it easier to think of something else. I watched them walk off, which was when my eyes spotted something round and shiny down by the door.
A quarter.
Though I rarely admitted such things to myself, I had been doing a decent job of keeping a certain abandoned-in-the-desert brunette out of my thoughts. As long as I kept myself busy, I was fine, but every time I saw a fucking quarter, it was like it all came rushing back to me.
“Not going to do it,” I told myself as the urge to pick up the coin washed over me.
A couple of college kids glanced at me and quickly looked away again.
Fucking awesome. Now I was talking to myself right in front of other people. I stood up and got off the train at the next stop, walked twelve blocks, and then hopped on a bus instead. By the time I got back to my place, Odin was looking like he might actually piss on the carpet.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I can’t even blame work this time – I was just fucking around.”
He sneezed once and then stood by the door as I grabbed his leash. I took him out, then spent a few minutes rubbing his head before I left to meet Jonathan at the bar.
Sweetwater Bar and Grill wasn’t my kind of place at all – big sports bar with a hundred TVs all around and guys with baseball caps serving your drinks. It was packed both with tourists and locals pretty much ninety percent of the time, which meant the bartenders never really had a chance to talk with anyone. They were quick with the drinks, but the place was just too crowded.
Jonathan loved it, but he was seriously into football.
It was the most convenient drinking place to my apartment, though, so I was there often enough. I recognized the bartenders immediately – a girl I liked and a guy I hated. I couldn’t remember the dude’s name. I knew since the day the place opened he was far too busy to do anything other than smile politely and make sure whatever you asked for was poured efficiently.
Okay, so that was basically his job, but I liked a little more effort.
The chick was dark-skinned and had a huge mound of braids all over the place. I couldn’t remember her name – only that it started with a “T.” She was a lot friendlier than the guy, and her smiles more genuine, but it was still the same “I’m too busy” vibe I got from the rest of them.
It was also a total meat-market.
Jonathan got up to smoke on the porch, and I held onto our ill-gotten table.
“Hi there!”
I only glanced at the girl as she sidled up to the booth where I sat. There was a huge line at the door, and I had seen her come in as I was entering. Of course, Jonathan had used some app he wrote on his phone to hack into the waiting list, and his name was up front as soon as a table became available, so we didn’t stand at the door for very long.
She peeked over the back of the booth, probably making eye contact with the blonde who came in with her before focusing back on me. Her red-lipped smile only annoyed me as she moved closer, leaned over, and made the tops of her boobs stick out of her shirt a little more.
“Watching the game?”
“Not a fan,” I answered. I picked up the pint glass of whatever microbrew had been on tap and took a sip.
“What do you like?” She tried to give me what I assumed was her version of bedroom eyes, but I just couldn’t be bothered. I wasn’t looking to get laid tonight. If I was, and it was going to be her, I’d end up having to buy her drinks all night and spend nearly as much as I did with Bridgett.
“Go wait for your own table,” I muttered just as Jonathan was getting back. The girl glared at me before stomping off.
“Hey, dude – she might have had a friend!”