It was late and I was tired. All I wanted was to get in my truck, go home and curl up on the screen porch with a good book. As I started the truck I realized that there was something tucked under the windshield wiper. I got out, pulling the paper from beneath the blade and unfolding it. As I read the words I felt a chill. It was an address, nothing more, but I knew exactly what it meant. I looked around the darkening parking lot even though I knew that he wouldn't be there. I got back in the truck and lit a cigarette, knowing what I should do, yet there was a part of me that couldn't I couldn't convince to ignore the note.
The phone rang a few times before my husband answered lazily. "Hey babe." He said, sounding as though he may have been sleeping.
"Hey." I replied, a bit unsure. "Sandy called a while ago. She and the girls are going for drinks and wanted to know if we would join them."
"Oh yeah?" he replied, thinking it over. "Do you want to go?" he asked.
I could tell from his voice that he wasn't in the mood to go out. I couldn't blame him. His long hours and early mornings left him wanting to do nothing more than crash once he returned home from work.
"We don't have to go." I said quickly, saving him the trouble. "I just thought it would be a nice break."
"Well," he said thoughtfully. "Why don't you go ahead; I'm pretty wiped."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "I won't be too long, just stay for a couple and then head home."
"Go ahead, babe." He said, happy to have been let off the hook.
I smiled a bit. I love my husband to death, but he can be rather predictable.
"Okay." I sighed. "I'll see you later on. I love you."
"Love you too." He responded as he disconnected the call.
I sat in the truck looking at the note. I should go home now and stay out of the trouble that was surely at the location on the paper in my hand.
I took out my Blackberry and logged into my Yahoo account. Sure enough, he had left a note earlier in the day.
"Andrea, I'll be in town later. You'll know where to find me if you want to.
I'll be there as soon as I can. Geoff
I turned on the GPS and entered the address from the note. As soon as I read the detailed directions I knew where he was sending me. I was excited and sick to my stomach all at once. It was a biker bar, and a seedy one at that. I'd never been inside, but I had driven by many times, and wondered what went on behind the darkened windows. There were always plenty of bikes in the lot, but in all the times that I'd passed by, I had never seen anyone entering or exiting.
The tires of my truck crunched on the asphalt as I drove into the parking lot. It was only 7:30, but it was overcast and already dark. I looked at the collection of bikes in the lot around me. I couldn't remember what Geoff's looked like. I probably wouldn't have found it anyway for all that were there. I thought about staying in the truck until he showed up. He obviously remembered what I drove. I wondered how he had found my office, but then realized that I wasn't in a big city, and there probably weren't too many accounting firms with green trucks in the parking lot. It probably hadn't taken him too long to find me. I supposed that if he left the note, then obviously he was already in town and already at the bar waiting for me. If he wasn't inside, I would have to wait alone for him; not a thought that I cherished. He set me up but good, knowing that I had a fantasy about biker bars. The line between fantasy and reality however, was a bit too definite for me to cross on my own. I'd known plenty of bikers in my time, and though some were just as pleasant as can be, others were rude, crude, and socially unacceptable. I didn't relish the thought of having to share the company of the latter while awaiting Geoff's arrival.
After fifteen minutes I still hadn't seen anyone enter or exit the bar. "Surely he's already inside." I thought, only half convincing myself. I touched up my make up in the rear-view mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. I stuffed my wallet in the back pocket of my Levis and opened the driver's door. "How bad could it be?" I thought. I reminded myself not to ask that question under any sort of alarming circumstances and headed for the bar.
It was smoke-filled and a bit loud inside. The juke was blaring biker bar appropriate tunes; Stevie Ray was lamenting about the sky crying. "At least the music was good." I thought as I crossed to the bar. I looked around the room as I chose a stool far away from the other patrons. I was not lucky enough to find Geoff waiting patiently at a table. There were only about ten other people in the bar, and to my dismay, they were all men, all big and scary looking, and all looking at me.
I took a seat on the bar stool and looked at the bartender who smiled back at me yet made no move in my direction. I nodded, he stared, we smiled, and I knew I was in it up to my bootstraps.
"Hey." I said, trying to sound like a bit more than a mouse. "Think I might get a beer?"
I lit up a cigarette, hoping like hell that my shaking hands weren't too visible. I looked back at the bartender who simply stared at me some more. After another moment he walked toward me and then continued on as though I wasn't there. He came from behind the bar and walked to a door across the room. He knocked, waited a moment, and then, apparently given permission to enter, opened the door and disappeared. After a few minutes another man came out. He looked in my direction and headed toward the end of the bar. Perhaps only he could serve women. Perhaps I had offended the previous man. Perhaps I was ready to leave before it got worse than it was already.
"You're a dumb-ass for even coming here alone." I told myself.
I watched the new guy walk behind the bar and was relieved to see that he was smiling as he walked the length of the bar and stopped directly in front of me. Maybe I'd been too quick to judge.
"Evening'" I said, returning his smile. "Could I get a Newcastle please?"
He chuckled. He reached into the beer cooler and brought out a Budweiser. He popped the top and placed it on the bar in front of me without a word. I should have known better than to ask for an import here. I thought as I reached for the bottle. The bartender watched as I took a hesitant sip before returning the bottle to the bar. He smiled at me and turned away.
I looked around, taking in my surroundings. It was a typical dive, smelling of smoke, stale beer, and testosterone. At the far end was a small stage area. On the stage was one of the most beautiful bikes I'd ever seen. Unlike everything else around me, the bike gleamed under the glare of the lighting. The chrome had surely been polished with a loving hand. It seemed an odd piece of artwork to sit upon a stage, but then I was in the company of men who often treated their bikes better than the women that they claimed to love. I could understand it. I'd never given bikes much thought until somewhere around my thirtieth birthday. I was enthralled with them now, wanting more than anything to be able to feel that power as I rode through the wind. I could only imagine the freedom that came with riding. My husband was fond of telling men that I got wet any time I heard the purr of a motorcycle these days. He'd think me insane for even entering a place like this, but he would understand it all too well.
I turned back to the bar to find the bartender staring at me. There was a shot of amber liquid next to my beer. I looked around, expecting to see Geoff, thinking that surely he had been the one to purchase the drink for me. He was nowhere to be seen. "Great." I thought. "Now I've picked up an admirer." I looked at the bartender, my eyebrow raised in question. From the steady glare, I could tell that his reply would not be forthcoming. He raised his eyes over my shoulder and grinned. I looked over his shoulder into the grimy mirror and saw what he was grinning at. There were three men standing behind me. Lost in my own thoughts I hadn't heard them approach.
"You looked thirsty." The bartender spoke. "My friends thought you might need a drink."
I was almost surprised by his words, having thought that perhaps he was unable to speak since he had been silent until now. I turned, looking at the men behind me.
"That's awfully nice of you." I said with a smile "but I'm waiting for someone."
I turned back to the bartender to find the man no longer smiling. He pushed the shot toward me. It was apparently not in good form to refuse a drink in this joint. I watched the mirror over his shoulder as the men behind me stepped closer. I could hear them breathing now. I reached for the shot, my hand trembling slightly. Raising the glass to the bartender I took it in one gulp, immediately feeling the burn as the liquid hit the back of my throat. I heard a chuckle behind me as I nearly gagged from the foul liquid. I prayed that I wouldn't vomit on the bar. I swallowed, nearly tearing up as my system fought to refuse the bile. I immediately reached for the beer to chase it down. The Bud tasted like Crystal compared to what it followed. I managed to somehow keep it down. I turned to the men behind me, smiling, and nodded my quick thanks, unsure if an attempt to speak might result in a sickening mess. When I turned back to the bar the shot glass had been topped off again. "Shit, shit, shit!" I thought, kicking myself for ever wandering into this place unescorted. I swore to give Geoff a piece of what might be left of my mind whenever he had the nerve to show his face.
"I really appreciate the drinks." I tried, looking again at the bartender. "But I'm meeting someone here."
"Drink up." said a voice so close behind me that I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I turned to see a face at my shoulder, grinning. His breath smelled of cigarettes and liquor. His smile, or perhaps I should call it a leer, was a little too close for comfort. He reached for the shot glass, his face perilously close to mine, and handed it to me. I took the glass and smiled nervously. Wishing that I could pinch my nose shut I brought the glass to my lips. The smell hit me first, sending my gut into spasms of rejection. I drank. Since the first shot had apparently burned away my taste buds, it really wasn't as bad the second time around. I fought to keep it down. Setting the empty on the bar, I murmured a thank you in the direction of the face that had appeared over my shoulder.
I took another long swig of beer, hoping to quell the fire that seemed to be burning my throat to ash. I fumbled in my pocket for my cigarettes. "Fight fire with fire." I thought to myself. The lighter trembled in my hands as I tried to light the cigarette. The bartender grabbed my hand and steadied it; bringing the flame to the unlit tip. He caught my gaze as I inhaled deeply. "Now you're really fucked." I thought to myself. I suddenly regretted having worked through lunch. Perhaps I'd have been alright if I hadn't skipped breakfast as well. My head was fuzzy as the poison in my stomach began to leech its way into my system.
"Ready?" the bartender asked, pushing the shot glass toward me yet again.
"Thanks, but I think I'll pass on this round." I said, smiling.
"It's rude to refuse a drink from the owner of the establishment." said a raspy voice from behind me.
I turned around to find the source standing at my shoulder. I nearly fell off the stool as I backed away in surprise. He was too close for comfort, and his eyes were too dark to be human. He reached out and grabbed my arm as I tried to catch myself on the bar. He steadied me on the stool.
"Careful little girl." He snickered. "You might get yourself hurt."
I felt my stomach drop at the thinly veiled threat. His fingers dug into my arm like a vice. His smile wasn't that of a gentleman. I pulled my arm back and stepped down from the stool.
"Thanks for the drinks." I stammered, grabbing my cigarettes from the bar. "I really should get going."
I pulled my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans and turned to the bartender. I tossed a credit card on the bar.
