Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Obi-Wan had never felt as…giddy as he was now. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d never felt giddy in his life. He’d slept like a rock last night with Zita in his arms. And this morning, after a few minutes of awkwardness, things had smoothed out and he felt closer to her than ever.
They’d repeated their visits to Sunny Side Up and Grinders, then once again made the drive out to the set.
It was a much more pleasant day, because not only did they get done way before the sun set, Obi-Wan had been able to spend some time with Zita.
She wasn’t avoiding him today, and in fact, the shy smiles she sent his way were encouraging.
His cock was half hard all afternoon, and it took all his focus to keep it from getting out of control.
The only problem was Silas Graves. He still stared at Zita way too often and with way too much interest. He didn’t attempt to talk to her, but that didn’t make Obi-Wan feel any better.
At one point that afternoon, he was going to go confront the man and ask what his problem was, but he’d been interrupted by a question about the chorography with the choppers.
Something was up with the bodyguard, and with the way the hair on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck was standing up, he wanted to get to the bottom of the guy’s issue before the end of the week.
But for now, he and Zita were headed back to Fallport.
Instead of fast food, she’d asked if they could eat at The Cellar.
From everything Obi-Wan understood, the pool hall had undergone a transformation in the last few years.
It used to be a pretty seedy place, where only the roughest locals hung out.
Even though it was still owned by the same person, things had changed, and now it was more respectable.
There were pool tournaments, dart enthusiasts met up there regularly to play, and couples even went on ax-throwing dates in the establishment.
Edna, the motel owner, had suggested it was now a good place to eat and have a beer at the end of a long day, if that was their thing. So tonight, Zita had asked if they could eat dinner there before heading back to the motel.
As Obi-Wan had admitted to her the day before, he found it almost impossible to deny her anything. But then again, taking her back to the motel too early wasn’t good either, because it was becoming more and more difficult to keep his hands off her.
They pulled into the parking lot in the back of the line of buildings along the square, and he saw that The Cellar was indeed a popular place, if the number of cars in the lot was any indication.
As they walked toward the back door, Obi-Wan saw a line of boxes along the wall of the building.
When he got closer, he saw each one had a tiny door.
“Oh my gosh! Do you know what those are?” Zita exclaimed.
“No clue.”
“They’re cat boxes! Like, strays can use them to stay warm in the winter. That’s so cool!”
It was cool. There were six of the little boxes, and now Obi-Wan noted there was straw in each one. Whoever had put them there was obviously a cat lover, which was kind of awesome.
He held open the door for Zita, and they were greeted by music, laughter, and the sound of many conversations going on.
Looking around, Obi-Wan was impressed. The bar was dim but not dark.
He could easily see the four pool tables on a raised platform toward the far side of the bar.
There were also three dartboard “lanes” set up on the opposite wall, in a position where it was unlikely anyone would be hit by a stray dart.
Then there were two “cages” where people were throwing axes at large bullseyes.
Again, he approved of the safety measures the owner had set up to keep bystanders and patrons safe.
All in all, Obi-Wan liked the place. He’d been in his share of dive bars over the years, in various countries, and The Cellar was definitely on the higher end of the ones he’d seen.
“Oh, it’s cute!” Zita exclaimed.
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he’d describe it as “cute,” but he didn’t contradict her.
They saw several familiar faces from the film crew but decided to sit at a high-top table for two, instead of joining some of the other men and women.
A waitress immediately arrived to take their drink order and drop off a pair of menus.
Instead of the prerequisite skimpy outfits found in so many dive bars—low-cut blouses and short skirts, or cut-off shorts that barely covered a woman’s private parts—their server wore skinny jeans and a fitted V-neck T-shirt that bore The Cellar’s logo.
Sexy but without having to be practically naked.
Obi-Wan ordered a bottle of beer, and Zita ordered a lemon drop martini, which she admitted to wanting to try after seeing how much Mandy had enjoyed hers at Anchor Point.
They looked over the menu, and Obi-Wan was impressed with the variety of offerings.
Everything from burgers and fries, to healthier fare like salads and grilled chicken and fish.
He saw from the menu that food service ended at ten-thirty, but the bar was open until one.
The waitress returned with their drinks and they ordered dinner. Grilled chicken sandwich with a side of fresh fruit for Zita, and a double bacon cheeseburger for Obi-Wan.
After the server had left, Obi-Wan turned his attention to his companion.
Zita looked tired but happy. A little rumpled, but like the girl next door. She was smiling at him, and he couldn’t help but reach for her hand. She gladly wrapped her fingers around his.
“Are you looking forward to the day after tomorrow? To the scenes with the helicopters?”
“Absolutely. I haven’t met the pilots yet, but the birds themselves look good. And the costumes for the pilots are almost exactly what my friends and I wear.”
“The movie’s gonna be a hit, I can feel it,” Zita said, taking a sip of her drink.
“Agreed. I also heard that Grubbner, even though he was upset he couldn’t talk to the real-life pilot Logan’s portraying, has promised a portion of the box office proceeds will be donated to mental health resources for veterans in the Air Force.”
“That’s generous of him.”
“He’s very particular, and a hard task-master, but I can’t deny he gets shit done,” Obi-Wan said.
“And yes, he seems to be generous, and well aware of how hard the people who bring his films to life are working. From the A-list actors and actresses to the extras, and even down to the caterers who supply everyone with food during the shoot.”
Zita nodded. “I agree. I’ve worked with a lot of directors, and he’s definitely one of the best. I’ve heard it was his idea to have base camp here in Fallport, and he was the one who insisted on using the local motel instead of the chain hotel out by the highway.”
“And we appreciate the business,” a gruff-looking man said as he neared their table.
He had a rag in one hand and a stack of empty glasses in another.
He had black hair that was a little too long, stubble on his cheeks and chin, and a hard look in his eyes.
He also had a scar that disappeared into the collar of the plain black T-shirt he was wearing.
Obi-Wan held out his hand and introduced himself.
The man put the stack of glasses on their table, wiped his palm on his jeans, then shook Obi-Wan’s hand. “Whip Johansen. I own The Cellar.”
“You do? We love it!” Zita said with a huge grin.
Whip glanced at her and nodded his head respectfully. “Thanks. Honestly, it hasn’t always been this way.”
“Really? Because it seems extremely popular,” Zita told him.
“Yeah, well, that’s because of my wife.” Whip looked back toward the bar, and Obi-Wan followed his gaze to see a tiny slip of a woman behind the bar.
She looked like an actual fairy—not that he knew what the hell fairies looked like, but she had hair so blond it was almost white.
She was slender and petite, and she wore a long-sleeve pink shirt with a scoop neck that showed off her collarbones.
She seemed almost fragile, and he wasn’t surprised a man like Whip kept her behind the bar.
It was probably the safest place for her.
“That’s your wife behind the bar? She’s beautiful,” Zita said, sounding sincere in her compliment.
Maybe that was why Whip continued to stand at their table and chat. Because Zita had a way of drawing people in. Encouraging them to tell her all of their secrets.
“She is. And I have no idea why she’s with me, but I’ll fuckin’ kill anyone who dares put their hands on her or look at her sideways. I can deal with a lot of shit, but two things I will not tolerate is abuse of animals or women.”
“Oh, you must’ve put the cat boxes out back,” Zita said with a huge smile.
“I did. We’ve got a bit of a stray cat problem, but the vets in the area are doing their best to help with that. They spay and neuter them for free.”
“Cool.”
“I met Angelica here at The Cellar. Back when it was a hangout for the not-so-good citizens of Fallport. I admit, this place was a shithole, but I honestly didn’t care at the time.
I was angry at the world, and I actually liked when fights broke out, because I could take out my aggression on the assholes who thought it was perfectly okay to pull out knives and fight right here in the middle of the joint.
Honestly, I didn’t care for Fallport either, or for the people who live here. I just wanted their money.”
“What happened? How did The Cellar change so much?” Zita asked, leaning forward, totally sucked into Whip’s story.
“It’s too long to go into before your meals arrive, but suffice it to say, Angel changed my life and made me see things in a different light. Without her, I’d still be the same asshole I used to be.”
Zita was clearly extremely curious about how a man like Whip got together with his wife. Obi-Wan had to admit…so was he. Something big had to have happened for him to change so drastically.