Chapter Four; Last Stand
The TV slipped into silence
Muting or pausing the broadcast would have been simpler, as the green volume bar on screen dwindled slowly from right to left the not unattractive Female Newsreader started to silently mouth incomprehensible words.
Reaching for the new full bottle of Brandy in front of him the breaking of the screw cap the crack of the caps seal filled the room shortly accompanied by the single ice cube rattling along the bottom of the tumbler to his left-hand side until it was muffled by the dark amber liquid that filled the base of the expensive looking cut-glass tumbler.
Bringing the glass to his lips, he didn't sip he took a long steady slug, the ice cube served no purpose whatsoever other than to rest against his top lip as he drank with a thirst, he'd not recognised he'd had, not the requirements of a thirsty man, the requirements of a man seeking to numb the increasingly heightened levels of anxiety that gnawed away at him.
Anxiety that had grown over seven long drawn-out days. Pouring another heavy measure free hand into the tumbler he picked up the phone from face down on the kitchen counter. Her smiling face looking straight at him, a smile from behind wide dark lensed sunglasses and beneath the shade of a large summer hat. Her wide mischievous smile. He could almost feel the stifling heat of the day he'd taken that photo; could hear the sights of the taverna that overlooked the small port where fishing boats would head out from at break of dawn and return laden with the most delicious fresh fish and seafood just before lunch. Long lazy lunches over glasses of crisp ice-cold white wine. Much happier times, carefree times. In actuality only less than nine months previous but feeling like a lifetime ago.
Pressing his thumb to the front screen the memory faded just as fast as the onscreen image did, replaced with the names and numbers of his most recent call logs. A pitifully short list of four contacts. Ari's personal number the most popular, seconded by her desk number, Jamie's number was the least contacted. The third number the number he'd called regularly since connecting the phone in November was Hetti's. Calling her simply to hear the seventeen seconds of a solitary answerphone message, seventeen seconds in which he could hear her voice.
Logan hit redial on Ari's mobile only to be diverted after a half a dozen rings or so to her own voicemail. "Hey it's Ari.... leave me a message for me to ignore"
Before the networks automated assistants voice offered patronising instruction, he cancelled the call and set the phone back down. He was sure she'd have heard the news he'd just seen. After all shit was getting far too serious, far to real, with the government enforced announcement that Pubs, Clubs, Restaurants and Entertainment Venues were to close doors with immediate effect. Draconian measures issued ridiculously on a Friday evening aimed solely at stifling the rise in infections from the virus, and to ultimately control the spiralling numbers of deaths across the country. The Dark Star wasn't immune. Logan's mind casting back the swathes of bodies that would cram the venue of a Friday and Saturday night. He could appreciate the breeding ground of an air born virus in the human soup the venue would become. Not from tonight though. From tonight as with all venues across the county the doors would close, the old girl would fall silent in the face of a growing Pandemic.
It was well over a year since he'd properly last visited his old club at full capacity. The Club he'd left to Ari, in albeit a crippled financial state having drawn down every penny he could to finance his new life and new start. He'd known Ari would, even without experience, keep the place alive and functioning and access the Mancini money to tidy her over would assist. From what he understood the place had never been so prosperous, so alive.
Reimagined slightly but maintaining its ethos, he could see her own passion for the premises her pride and sense of achievement when she spoke about the venue. She always referred to The Dark Star as his Club, but he knew, as did Ari, that the Club categorically belonged to her.
Coupled with the events of the last week on a personal level Logan realised the enforced closure would remove the positive distraction that the hands on and time-consuming business offered. He'd been genuinely shocked that by Saturday of last weekend Ari had found the resolve, had covered her bruised and battered body and made her way to the Club for the biggest night of the week.
She'd amazed him as much as she had concerned him, burying far too deeply and far too quickly the unknown, to him, traumatic events that befallen her at the hands of Hector Salazar and the patrons of his vile private members establishment. The Collective.
Logan's thoughts were suddenly rudely distracted by multiple pairs of heeled feet descending the stairs into the main hallway. He heard the cacophony of voices but could not make out, or for that matter care, for what they said such was their collective din. Sienna and a group of friends. Their laughter and excited shrieking filled the hallway into the kitchen on twisted slightly grating echoes. The front door eventually slamming shut behind them, silencing their caterwauling. Immediate solace returned around him. The mockery the group of girls made of the civil enforcement attempted to be being enforced nationally, all for the sake of one last night
Efforts to sidle up to and embrace the existence of Siena Mancini had not been working out, not in the least because of the random schedules adopted by the twenty-year-old. He'd been unable to engage with her himself purely from a lack of exposure to the youngster. Tonight, a prime example of the lifestyle led but equally to the contempt and respect she showed, having turned up at the house with a handful of friends around two hours ago. A noisy home invasion Logan had opted to avoid in the main so far but there was no doubt they'd all be returning at some point in the night. An entente cordial was barely maintained under the roof of the vast property; Logan's ability to ignore and hide away from situations and Ari's headlong dive into the positive distraction work provided were only delaying what he sensed was the inevitable. Perhaps Ari's distraction by work wasn't a bad thing after all.
He swilled the Brandy around the tumbler, the contents offered no genuine resolution.
Consuming enough would do though, if only in the short term.
Picking up the bottle and leaving his phone on the counter he slipped from the kitchen looking for a spot to become comfortably numb.
**********
Taking a deep inhale through the blunt of the hand rolled joint he felt the heat of the glowing ember on his lips.
Stubbing out the last of the spliff, his second of the night, into an ashtray fashioned from a little white ramekin he exhaled the thick long billow of smoke across the room.
His mind everywhere but on the film he watched. The effect of the weed dulled his senses but tinged his thoughts with paranoia as he tried to concentrate on the film, he'd already seen several times before. Thousands of films to stream and he couldn't find a thing to watch.
He felt a stir of hunger only then realising he'd not properly eaten since lunch and that had been an all too basic tuna salad Ari had prepared, which constituted little more than a can of tuna and a bad of prewashed lettuce. Rising from the comfort of the dark grey leather single recliner seat in the Cinema room he paused the on-screen image and made his way towards the double doors that led from the room.
Opening the doors, he immediately heard the excited shrieking voices coming from the direction of the Kitchen. 'Fuck' he wasn't in the mood for having to deal with people, let alone shrieking excitable people, but his need for nourishment was greater. 'Suck it up Logan' he thought to himself while continuing along the hallway a little fuzzy headed, the stark lights a little too invasive to his blood shot eyes as he entered the kitchen from a side door.
The four of them stood there around the kitchen breakfast bar which appeared to be littered with the contents of the drink's cabinet. Siena with her back to him stood with her arm around the shoulder of a blonde dressed in a black tight dress with thigh length black suede boots. A blonde with shorter hair stood the opposite side of the counter passing a rolled note to a dark-skinned girl in a leather vest top that barely covered ample breasts. Taking the note, she lowered herself over the counter and without hesitation inhaled a line of, presumably, cocaine from a mobile phone screen.
"Shit me," she gasped her hand to her significant chest on seeing that he'd entered the room "That's some pure shit there."
"Don't mind me girls," Logan said aloud as he walked into the room, in no way fussed by the narcotics that the girls did their best to hurriedly try and hide.
Muttered statements and dropped eye-lines roundly ensued from all four of them, bringing a wry smile to Logan's lips. What were they expecting to be chastised like naughty schoolgirls? Logan's only thoughts were that he was actually a little bitter not to be partaking. Figuring he couldn't ask and that they wouldn't offer.
The side unit was covered in a plethora of bottles of both spirits and mixers, alongside of near every glass from the cabinet and a bag of ice split open that slowly melted across the counter. No doubt their idea of an attempt at wiping down after themselves.
Headed to the fridge Logan grabbed a loaf of white bread, a pack of sliced chicken and a pack of ham, alongside a pot of Mayo and English Mustard. There was salad left in the bottom tray of fridge but in his current state of mind he viewed such foodstuff as simply empty calories.
"You're back early," he stated in their general direction looking in part to reaffirm no harm was caused by their presence as he busied himself.
"Everywhere was shutting early," Siena offered on a hint a little awkwardness
