40. Annie
Chapter Forty
ANNIE
C offee: keeping me alive. Le Barré: fucked.
I had to search for my staff’s applications to get their phone numbers, then call from the bar’s landline, since my phone vanished along with everything else. Then I went to Philz and got coffee for everyone, where I took my time and read the paper in an effort to remember I’m not the only one in the world with problems. It lifts my mood to see their crazy green bathroom that looks like a magic marker attacked it when no one showed up to clean. But apparently that was a bad decision. I should have stayed here to babysit.
Taryn runs up, her eyes flashing to the debacle of police tape and broken glass. “Annie! I’m so glad you’re okay!”
“I’m great. Le Barré however, not so much.”
She hugs me and I squeeze her tight, too. We turn to the windowless mess.
“The liquor bottles are all gone!”
I sigh. “Yep. And guess what? They were here when I called you. Then I went to get these.” I hand her a latte, three left haphazardly in the cardboard tray. “I guess I was too out of it to imagine someone would take them. Someone’s having one hell of a party; that’s the silver lining.”
Taryn stares. It’s quite a sight. “What are you gonna do?”
I shrug. I’m all dried up of tears, dead inside, everything heavy. “I called the insurance agency and told them what happened.”
“Well, would you look at this mess! I mean, wow!” Laura walks up, her eyes on the disaster. “When you climax, you’re something else! Give a building a warning next time, would ya?”
I roll my eyes. “Funny.”
She purses her lips together, takes the coffee I point to – Americana with Almond Milk – and eyes me with empathy. “Hey kid. Our garage got robbed three years ago. It’s the worst. How’re you holding up?”
“I’ve been better. Shall we go in through our new door? This isn’t something you get to do every day.”
We step through the broken window, the three of us dressed in old jeans, t-shirts and mucked-up sneakers.
Laura quips, “The novelty is appealing.”
“Adventures in bar-owning!” Taryn throws up her fists.
We tromp through broken glass, but the sight of blood on the cement floor stops us cold. It’s dark and awful and there are brownish-red footprints leading out of the largest blotch. With the shadows of afternoon sunlight pouring in through the missing window, highlighting the glass fragments and the dried blood, it looks like something out of a horror movie.
“Oh my God.” I hand the tray to Taryn, walk over and pick up his jacket, an excruciating reminder of a better time. The girls stare at me as I look through the pockets. “His phone is in here.” On the screen are a slew of message and text notifications from Mark, some names I don’t know and Rebecca Wells. Her name knocks the wind out of me. Did I know her name was Rebecca? Did someone say that to me this morning when they assumed I was her? I have no idea. With my hand shaking, I tuck the phone back in the pocket and take a deep breath. Laura and Taryn walk over and lay their heads on my shoulders.
“Hang in there, kid. I brought hard-core cleaner that gets rid of everything. We’ll have this place back the way it was in no time.”
“It’ll gleam like crystals on a sunny day,” Taryn whispers and kisses the side of my head.
They walk to the bar, but my feet are frozen where I stand. My fingers are clutched tightly on his jacket and I stare at his shoes, wondering how this could be happening. The girls are in front of me, but to my left, the door to the storeroom opens. Fear races up my spine. I spin around. Nearly scream.
“Hey Boss,” Manny says, wiping sweat from his forehead. All eyes are on me.
“I guess I’m still jumpy,” I mutter. “I didn’t know you were here.”
He looks from the girls to me. “I got here forty-five minutes ago.” He points his thumb behind him to the storeroom. “I put all the bottles in lock down.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. They were sitting on the shelves like a candy store.” He gives me a sad, lopsided smile. “I didn’t want anyone to take them.”
“Well that’s a relief.” My heart is still pounding and I have to focus hard against it. “Thank you. There’s a coffee for you over there.” I point to where Taryn set down the tray.
The room is quiet. They’re worried and nobody knows what to say. I want to do something, say something that will make them feel safe. I’m supposed to be the one in charge.
“You guys? Um…I just want to say how much it means to me that you’re here. You didn’t have to come. This obviously isn’t part of the job description.” I try to chuckle but the sound is false. “You’re on the clock and I will pay you, but aside from that – the fact that I’m not having to face this alone means so much to me.” I pause to work up the nerve to continue. I’m not so great at open shows of intimacy or vulnerability. “Well, I um… opening this bar with you and struggling together… and now you’re here with me during this, it’s a lot. It means a lot to me. I feel like you guys are not just my employees – you’re my friends. So, thank you.”
“We are your friends.” Laura tosses her purse on the bar like she’s just said the most obvious thing in the world.
“You don’t have to pay us,” Taryn adds.
“Oh shush. People get paid for work. This is labor, not a company picnic.” They smile. “Beside, the give/take of energy is important, and money is just green energy. It’s not take/take. There’s a balance.”
Manny heads for the bar, “Well, let’s get going!”
I throw a last long glance at the floor before joining them. Brendan’s jacket gets set on the bar, but I can’t seem to let go of it. I call out to Manny, “Hey Captain Gung Ho, how about pouring us some beers?”
All three of them cheer loudly, which makes me smile. I’m trying hard to loosen up. “You guys can drink as much you want to – as long as I can drink double that!”
Laura beats on the bar like a drum and Taryn swings her hips in a solo dance, singing, “We neeeeeed music!” She pulls her bag off her shoulder and digs in, producing an iPhone with a bohemian-style case. “Oh you guys are going to love me for this.”
I get a push broom from the storeroom and land a smile on the rows of bottles as soon as I see them. Less money to claim for insurance means lower rates. Thank God they didn’t get stolen last night. I guess the police tape was a deterrent. And who knows how long they were here, rubbing for prints and picking up evidence.
Taryn selects a playlist, hits a button, and calls out, “Okay Annie. This is A-Punk by Vampire Weekend. Upbeat and perfect.” She’s not lying.
Five minutes later a police officer appears on the other side of the shattered window. He scans our faces and lands on mine, recognition evident. “Good afternoon, Ms. O’Brien.” He steps over the frame and walks on the glass as everyone watches.
I lay the broom down and walk to meet him halfway. “Taryn, could you turn the music down for a second?”
“Sure, Annie.” She lowers the volume, exchanging looks with the others.
He nods to my staring team. No one’s hiding curiosity. He’s a beefy dude, over two hundred pounds and about 5’10,” with a bulbous nose and smaller eyes. I don’t recognize him, but I know he must have been there from the familiar way he looks at me, and he’s holding my lost purse. “You’ve got a lot of glass to clean up.”
With a quick glance to the floor, I nod. “Yeah. It looks harsher in the daytime.” I motion to my purse. “You found it. Thank you. Is my phone in there, too? And did you find any prints on the door handle?”
His eyes say no before his mouth does. “Your phone is in here, yes, but no prints on the door. He must have wiped them off. We think he wasn’t a first-timer.”
“His hand wasn’t shaking.”
He takes this in. “We’ll need you to come down and file a report.”
“Of course. Can I do it after we’re finished here?”
He pauses. “I think that’ll be fine. We didn’t find prints but there was blood on the ground where he was shot. How did you get the gun from him?”
I explain it, with everyone listening. The police officer’s blown away, but I’m not feeling particularly proud of myself.
“Impressive.”
I shrug.
“You should take credit where credit is due. We could not be having this conversation right now.”
He means I could be dead. A fact that has never once escaped me.
“Yeah. I guess you’re right. It was my dad who taught me basic self-defense. He drilled it into me when I was a teenage. But I’ve been taking Krav Maga classes over on Bush Street ever since I got back to the city, to work off some steam. Some people like yoga. I’m more the throwing punches or bottles type, ” I smile.
His eyebrows rise slightly. Policemen don’t wear emotions on their sleeves. They’d make excellent poker players, I guess.
“Krav Maga is some serious stuff. We train with them, too,” he tells me.
“Really? You know why I chose it?” I look around, including everyone in my explanation. “Because of Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider . She trained in Krav. Such a badass. Wanted to be like her.”
Taryn laughs. “You just said that so seriously.”
“Well, she was seriously badass. Am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong.”
I turn back to the policeman. “Did you see it?”
He shakes his head, his mind on something else. “No, but I’m going to enroll my daughter. If someone as little as you can disarm a man from his gun, that’s a skill she needs to have. Look inside your purse.”
My eyebrows go up.