To Syr, my silver grizzly.
SSW
~~~~~~~
The first time I saw her in my bar, I thought she was one of the guys.
But she was far from it.
Having grown up in my dad's place--Charlie's Tavern--and now running it for the past 11 of my 32-years, I'd seen all kinds of clientele. Mostly men. Sometimes women. Rarely children.
The men were usually rough and shoddy looking. Tired and dirty. But always hard workers. Like linemen. The guys who did whatever was needed to keep your power and phones running when you saw the orange "men working ahead" signs. Street workers. The blue-collar crews.
There were the occasional businessmen, but those lofty jobs were in skyscrapers further uptown. Up by the more reputable and newer bars and eating establishments.
Down here near the old Chicago meatpacking district, we didn't see too many suits unless they were bigwigs meeting with bosses for jobs. Construction and the like. Or detectives and beat cops looking for information or taking a pitstop while trying to solve some crime.
The group at the only circle table were the demolition crew from the job site across the street. They'd started putting up barricades and fencing last week. Posting safety notices. Woke me up bright and early Saturday morning after a late night. No rest for the wicked, I guess.
I remember my dad telling me about how his father was a toddler when they erected the building now scheduled to come down. There had been a big to-do with how it would bring jobs to the area just building it. Then all the different businesses that would be located within. People turned out in droves when they lifted the first beams into place. To watch the men in their death-defying walks high above the ground as they installed each rivet. The neighborhood was so proud.
Then the second war came. Construction stopped with four floors done. There were at least double that still planned. But all the steel was diverted to the war effort to build planes, tanks, ships, and other munitions.
After V-Day, work didn't continue for many years. The initial plans for whatever it was going to be were abandoned. Along with the prospective jobs. It was eventually finished and went through the stages of being offices for whatever and whomever wanted to lease the space. Even apartments at one point. But there hadn't been any activity there for the past decade. Until now. Soon, it would be another vacant lot instead of a vacant building.
I sighed and wiped down the bar while eavesdropping on the two men complaining how the noise would be intolerable once they started pulling down the walls. Personally, I thought we could do with a little legal excitement these days. Not the occasional bums sleeping off their hangovers in the alley or the high-speed cop chases after teenage punks on a joyride.
Courtney, one of my two daytime waitresses, was making her rounds to check on the customers. She'd just approached the demolition crew when the one worker with silvery-white hair turned in his seat.
And I realized he was a she.
The same she from the club last Friday night. And she wore the same perpetual "don't fuck with me" non-smile that had been highlighted by the flashing disco ball lights.
But that's not why I remembered her.
===
"The usual, Bo?"
I shook my head at Brad behind the bar. He was the only male in the whole place besides the DJ, which was a bit laughable because Maggie's catered solely to the female clientele who all batted for the same team. "Jack tonight. Straight."
He raised an eyebrow but set a lowball glass in front of me and started to pour. "Who are we trying to forget?"
"Not who. What."
"Okay, I'll bite. What are you trying to forget?"
"My lonely existence. Better make it a double."
We exchanged paper green for liquid brown, and I turned in my barstool to scope out the nightly crowd.
This was my home away from home. Whenever I could catch a break from bossing everyone around my own establishment, that is. Thankfully, I had a good staff I could rely on to keep the place from burning down in my absence.
It had been a few weeks since I'd been by, but nothing had changed. The same stage with DJ equipment overlooked the rest of the room scattered with mostly-occupied low tables and chairs. And although the space in front of the stage was currently void, it would be full of ladies bumping and grinding once the music started.
As if right on cue, the lights dimmed and a heavy beat cut through the air, quickly joined by a techno rhythm until it rose above the indecipherable chatter.
I sipped my firewater and watched as the couples trickled to the dance area, illuminated by the colorful overhead lights bouncing off the walls and the disco ball. By the time the song changed a second time, I'd finished my glass.
When I turned around, Brad filled it without question. I swallowed it in one gulp. He shook his head, refilled my glass again, and then lifted his chin toward the growing crowd.
With an eyeroll, I took my fresh drink. And the hint.
For several minutes, I lingered on the outskirts of the moving wave of people. Sipping and swaying. Slowly easing closer to the stage as the alcohol eased all the tension in my body. Before I knew it, I was swallowed by a wall of new couples who'd had the same idea.
I let the music take over. Filling my head. Moving my body. My heartrate matching the base.
Several different women took turns dancing with me face to face and back to front, as they too became one with the music. Hands touched my hips, my back, my shoulders, and I leaned into them. My own free hand brushed other women's appendages and body parts.
One in particular, a skinny blonde with an ample chest, stood out from the rest. Her dark eyes focused on mine as she gyrated in front of me.
Her pixie style haircut reminded me of Lisa, my ex. But that was where the similarities ended, thankfully. Because she was fucking hot in her denim mini skirt and sparkly black tank top that showed off long legs and arms while accentuating her curves. Femme wasn't really my type, but I wasn't picky tonight. I just wanted to drink and dance. And if that led to other kinds of dancing and drinking, I wasn't going to object to what type of lesbian she was.
I was imagining our limbs intertwined when she draped one tanned arm over my shoulder. My body automatically drew closer, though I kept a few inches between us. I was horny, but I didn't want to appear to be too desperate. Make her work for it.
As we danced, we drank from our respective glasses. She had some fruity cocktail based on the yellow hue and the floating wedges of citrus. I could smell the sweetness on her breath when she leaned closer to my ear and whispered, "I'm Brandi. You're sexy."
