Chapter 2
2
ELLIE
“ D o you remember what it smelled like?” The rounded edge of the wooden bar pressed into my forearms as I leaned closer into Janice’s personal space, desperate to catch her every word. I needed her to recall every sense from that moment, hoping I could imagine myself smack in the middle of the memory she was reciting for me.
“Smelled like?” She took a long sip of the white wine spritzer, her signature drink, which I had just refreshed yet was already looking low. “Well, now, Ellie, I don’t remember the smell. That was a long time ago, dear.”
I nodded with a fake smile to hide the disappointment that I didn’t have that one sense to add to the story. She was right, her honeymoon to California was over forty years ago, and asking her to recall the smell of the redwood trees was asking a lot. The woman was sixty-ish, after all. Well, that was how old I assumed she was. And it wasn’t like I could ask to see her driver’s license to verify she was over twenty-one to drink—she was clearly well over the legal drinking age.
Unlike the two kids who still sulked at the high-top way in the back, nursing the Cokes I served them, sans the Jack Daniel’s they asked to have added. I shook my head at the two pouting boys and turned my attention back to Janice, who had now moved on to venting about the leak her husband found in their duplex.
Bar towel in hand, I nodded along as I listened to her complain about the landlord and the terrible living conditions she was forced to put up with while I wiped down the worn bar top. Janice wasn’t wrong about the undesirable living conditions of her place, but that could be said about most of the affordable places to live in our small town. It wasn’t known for its spacious and modern apartment buildings. We were known for something far more ominous, which drove tourists who were too curious for their own good to our town.
If they knew what went on behind those gates, maybe they wouldn’t be so obsessed with The Church. It was located only four miles away, just under the overpass for the highway, but it might as well be a different world once you turned off the main road.
Why cults and their secrecy held such fascination was something I couldn’t comprehend. Four miles away from The Church and still I didn’t get why tourists made Orin a destination stop. Maybe I didn’t understand because I knew firsthand what it was like to live behind those miles of fences and domed homes.
From my perspective, at least. And mine held some weight since I was born into that life and lived it for what I assumed was over twenty years.
“Ellie?”
“Hmm?” I said, shaking off the sense of foreboding thinking about The Church always brought over me.
“I said I brought you something.”
I paused and turned from where I’d moved halfway down the bar as I cleaned. The single postcard between her fragile, wrinkled fingers now held my full attention. I tossed the rag into the sink and moved back down the bar, the rubber soles of my Doc Martens squeaking against the nonslip mat Carl installed behind the bar last year with each quick step.
“My granddaughter went to Australia with her school for some international study, and she sent me this and a key chain”—she slid the small metal object across the bar toward me—“to give to you.”
Teeth digging into the edge of my lower lip, I wiped my damp fingers from the cleaning rag on my snug black jeans before plucking the card from her fingertips.
Towering snowcapped mountains and a quaint little thatched-roofed town at the base with a river running through the middle covered the front of the card. I studied each inch, imagining what it felt like to be standing at the base of those mountains, to walk along the streets bundled up to fend off the cold, or even stand at the peak of either mountain looking down at the world below.
If I imagined hard enough, I could feel the damp cold, the cobblestone street beneath my steps, and smell the….
I frowned. That was the one sense I could never imagine when picturing myself anywhere other than this small town.
With a sigh, I flipped the card over.
Ellie,
Wish you could be here too. One day.
PS - It smells like fresh rain. Clean and bright with hope of a fresh start.
A smile pulled at my lips as I recited the words in my head, studying the picture once again.
A cold hand patted mine that was balled into a tight fist resting along the bar. “One day, Ellie girl. One day.” Janice gave my hand a squeeze until my own relaxed against hers. “You’ll see it all.”
“I’d settle for seeing Austin,” I muttered.
The card stock was smooth beneath my fingertip as I traced the outline of the small houses. A ball of pent-up emotion lodged in my throat. I cleared it and forced a bright smile as I looked up at Janice, whose face was full of concern.
“This,” I said, nodding to the postcard, “is perfect. Please tell her how grateful I am. It truly means the world to me.” Careful to not crease the edges, I placed it and the key chain on the back counter for safekeeping until closing.
A click of a tongue had me turning back to my best customer. “You deserve so much more than you got in life. You’re sweet, beautiful,” she paused, her lips pursed as she inspected my new hair color. “Despite this month’s choice in hair color.” Yeah, this out-of-the-box jet-black wasn’t my favorite either. “You worshipping the devil now or something?”
A real laugh burst from me at her narrow-eyed scan from the top of my newly dark hair to my black long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans. It was funny because only Janice would ask such a question. Old people were the best with their zero filter. It was refreshing instead of the others who knew my background and clammed up around me, not sure how to act.
“No, no devil worshipping here. Just trying out a new look. Guess you don’t like it?” I arched a blonde brow in her direction and leaned back against the counter.
“Your natural color is so beautiful. Why do you keep changing it?”
Thankfully before I could come up with an excuse—every time she asked that, I came up with a new one, never the true answer—the front door swung open. A burst of cold, damp air blew through the stuffy bar, alerting everyone to the newcomer.
A man I’d never seen before stepped inside, shaking out his black coat as he closed the door behind him. Dressed in nice-looking slacks and a button-down shirt, he moved through the cluster of tables, past the pool table, and sat down on a barstool down the bar from where Janice and I stood gaping.
Okay, I was gaping. Janice was slurping to suck the final drops of her drink.
“Who’s that?” I whispered as I pushed off the back counter. Elbow on the bar, I rested my chin on my knuckles, blatantly staring at the stranger as he shrugged off his coat and laid it on the empty barstool to his right. When he was situated, he scanned the length of the bar until his gaze landed on me.
I held back the gasp of surprise when those ice blue eyes locked with mine. All the walls I’d built over the years crumbled, the restrained emotions I hid daily from others on full display with a single look from this mystery man. He held me in a trance, never glancing away as he seemed to read every memory, detail, and emotion from where he sat several feet away.
Janice’s voice was hollow and sounded far away even though only the bar separated us. He wasn’t the normal cult junkie who stopped in every now and again looking for details on what happened across the highway. No, this man was different in more ways than his casual good looks and piercing stare.
“I’ll be right back,” I muttered to the still talking Janice. My soles squeaked with each step. At the sink, I dunked my hands into the tepid water and retrieved a new bar towel.
I twisted the coarse rag in my hands as I continued my approach, moving slow to take in as much about him as I could. A sad smile lifted the corners of his lips, a sadness I understood. It was mixed with loneliness and maybe a hint of exhaustion, three emotions I knew all too well. That same gaze stared back at me in my own reflection daily.
Yet even with the sad smile, he was striking with his lean, scruffy cheeks, strong nose, and full lips. With the dim lighting and the almost buzz cut of his hair, it was impossible to determine the color. Add his good looks to the confident air about him and that all-seeing stare, and I was at a loss for words.
My lower belly twisted and tingled when I stopped in front of him. Beads of perspiration that weren’t there before he entered the bar dotted the back of my neck and turned my hands clammy.
Maybe someone turned on the heat?
I chanced a glance at the thermostat that was on my side of the bar, behind a plastic box that was secured with a lock.
Okay, maybe someone didn’t turn up the heat. But then what would cause this sudden hot flash and dry throat?
“Hi,” the man said as he interlaced his fingers and placed them palms-down on top of the bar.
“Hello.” The coarse weave of the rag scraped between my fingers as I nervously wove it between them beneath the bar.
Nerves had my gaze bouncing from him to the few other locals scattered throughout the small dive bar. Everyone had paused what they were doing, their attention on the man in front of me. One of Farmer Ben’s sons was still bent over the pool table, cue ready to strike a ball, frozen in place as he watched our interaction. His playing partner, one of Brett’s friends, had his eyes narrowed on the newcomer while he spoke into the phone glued to his ear.
“What do you want?” I asked, nervously wiping along the bar.
Like a switch was flipped, that sad smile changed, now full of humor like he was in on some inside joke I was left out of.
“You might want to work on your greeting skills.”
Pausing my wiping, I brought my other hand up to rest on my hip as I leaned against the dark wood of the bar. “Excuse me?”
“Your greeting. It needs work.” I arched a brow. Even though I should’ve been annoyed with his words, they were light with humor, holding zero animosity or anger. He gave me a quick once-over that left me feeling exposed. “You’re very hostile.” His damn smile grew when I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did I offend you…?”
I watched as his gaze dipped lower, this time more slowly, like he was memorizing every inch of my neck and chest. When his eyes stayed glued to my full chest, I subconsciously hunched my shoulders to make my large breasts seem smaller.
Panic flashed behind his eyes, which were now a bit frantic. “No, sorry. I wasn’t looking there, at your—” He waved a hand at my chest, which made me even more self-conscious. “—that. Shit. Sorry, I was looking for your name tag, but you’re not wearing one.”
“Because everyone knows who I am,” I responded, relaxing a fraction at his explanation.
“Benefits of a small town, I guess.”
I shrugged. “Benefit or detriment. Depends on the day, I guess.”
“Clever.” He sighed and slid both hands along the bar, spreading his arms out wide. “I’m in desperate need of a drink. Can we blame my earlier behavior on exhaustion? Hell, I might be sleepwalking right now.”
I dipped my chin with a small smile. “Wish I looked that good exhausted,” I muttered under my breath as I tossed the bar towel into the dirty rag bucket. Inhaling deeply, I steeled my spine and rolled my shoulders back to stand at my full five-foot-five height. Even with him sitting, he towered over me from his spot across the bar. But for some reason it didn’t intimidate me. No, instead it made me… sick?
Sick wasn’t the right word. Nervous, but a good nervous that made my stomach go all twisted. Or I was getting sick. That had to be the explanation. I’d never had as much as a single heart race or flash of excitement from a man. The flu or a cold was much more likely an explanation for my sudden onslaught of symptoms.
“Not a problem,” I said, wearing the fake smile I reserved for nosy outsiders. “What can I get you?” His lips parted, ready to give his order, when I held up a hand to stop him. “I will warn you that I don’t mix drinks unless it has two ingredients, such as vodka tonic or rum and cola, and even then I’ve been told they’re not great. Your best bet is a beer, or I make a killer white wine spritzer per my friend Janice.” I inclined my head down the bar where Janice sat clearly listening in.
She raised her empty glass and nodded. “And I’ll take a refill of that drink when you can.”
I nodded before turning back to the man with an expectant look.
“Beer. Budweiser in a bottle if you have it.”
I nodded and slipped the opener from my back pocket. The heavy metal twirled easily around my index finger as I made my way to the cooler.
“So you’re a bartender who doesn’t know how to make drinks?”
I snorted at his comment and immediately froze at the unconscious slip. Heart racing from the sudden bolt of panic, I stood as still as possible and closed my eyes. Grounding myself to the here and now, I focused all my senses on what surrounded me. The clatter of the pool balls, the low mumbled voices, the smell of bleach and yeast flooded through me as I absorbed the world around me. I was in the bar, not behind those gates with him. No one was here to punish me for that little slip. No one here cared if I snorted or laughed without permission.
A hand wrapped around my bicep and tightened, not to the point of pain but just enough to snap me out of the little cocoon of self-preservation I’d slid into. Opening my lids, I slowly shifted my focus to the man who was leaning half his body over the bar to reach me, his eyes darting between my own, searching for something.
“Hey, you okay?” Those searching eyes and the concern in his lowered voice shredded through my normal defenses.
I blinked, not sure how to respond. Aggression, sympathy, annoyance, I could handle that coming at me, but genuine concern from a stranger? That was a new one. “Yeah, sure, fine.” I shook out of his hold and stepped back until I hit the counter, making the shelves of liquor rattle. “Just lost in thought, I guess.” Those blue eyes narrowed, almost like he saw straight through the lie. “I’ll get you that beer now.”
Reluctantly he withdrew to his side of the bar and took his seat, that penetrating gaze never leaving me as I bent to pull a beer from the cooler. The cold glass slipped in my hand as I held the neck to pop the cap. I set it on the bar and gave it a soft push. A line of condensation trailed its path as it slid down the bar right into his waiting hand.
“At least you have that down,” he said with a tight smile before taking a long drink. His Adam’s apple bobbed with each deep swallow, the sight doing something strange to my breathing.
“The drink thing is more about me not knowing what it tastes like. I either make them too strong or too weak,” I explained. “Never really liked the stuff.”
“Yet you’re a bartender.”
I shrugged my thin shoulders and started working on Janice’s white wine spritzer. “Carl was hiring, needed help with a few closing shifts a week so he could go to Waco to see his kids.” And agreed to pay me under the table in cash. “And no one around here orders anything fancy, so I haven’t bothered to study the drink book that he leaves beside the register. Pretty sure it was published in the seventies and its fanciest drink is a Manhattan.”
“Carl the owner?”
I nodded and left our little bubble to deliver Janice’s new drink. When I returned, he’d slipped back into that sad state, the hint of happiness we’d danced around earlier gone.
“Why are you so sad?” I whispered. Well, meant to whisper. By his reaction, the mystery man heard the random, inappropriate slip of the tongue. Clearing my throat, I gave a fake laugh. “I mean exhausted.” No I didn’t. I meant sad because it was radiating off him now, and for some reason I wanted to fix it, wanted to make him happy.
He kept his face downturned. “Work. Life. Destiny.”
Tongue to the roof of my mouth, I let out a low whistle that drew his attention. “That does sound exhausting. Tell me, why worry about destiny when it’s nothing you can change?”
That had him perking up. He leaned forward, the empty beer bottle held between both hands. “You don’t think you can change your own destiny?”
“I know you can’t.” At least I can’t , I said in my head but kept to myself. He didn’t know my background, and that was the way I wanted it.
“That’s interesting….” He raised both brows. I narrowed mine, not understanding what he was getting at. “Your name. What’s your name? Or I’ll have to find a nickname to start calling you.”
This time when I snorted, I held the swift race of panic deep down so he wouldn’t see just how broken and fucked-up I really was. Not sure when his opinion of me began to matter, but for some reason it did.
“A nickname? You don’t even know me.”
He tapped his bottom lip with the beer bottle. “I’m sure I could come up with something appropriate. How about ‘dark and mysterious’?”
“There is nothing dark and mysterious about me.” Well, the dark part, sure, but how would he know that unless he really could see through me to the black spots that were left behind from years of neglect and abuse?
“I disagree,” he said, that genuine smile returning. Something brightened in my heart at seeing the sadness washed from his features. “Dark hair, black clothes, and an edge to you that I can’t figure out. ‘Dark and mysterious’ fits from my perspective. And it’s kind of what I do, so in my honest but accurate opinion, I say I’m right about the nickname.”
“Your honest yet accurate opinion? Who says that?” I huffed out a laugh and bent forward to grab him another beer from the cooler. This time I popped the cap and walked the few steps to stand in front of his barstool.
“I heard a preacher say it one time, and it was so absurd it stuck. I use it to impress the ladies now. How’s it working?”
A slight burn crept along my cheeks as a full genuine smile grew so wide it hurt. “I’m sure you do just fine on your own, no lines needed.”
“So you’re saying there’s a chance.” At my laugh, a spark flashed behind his gaze, one that wasn’t there when he first walked in. “Your name, please.” He shook his head like he fought some internal battle.
I opened my mouth but sealed my lips before I could shout out my name when a nagging thought wouldn’t go away.
What am I doing? This man wasn’t flirting with me, wasn’t in to me. No, men didn’t flirt with me. One because of Brett, and two because everyone in town knew I wasn’t worth it.
Brett’s unrelenting comments about my body came roaring to the forefront of my mind. I was too short, too thin, too disproportionate for anyone but him to find attractive.
This man wasn’t flirting, he was simply being nice, and here I was taking it the wrong way.
Yes, that made more sense. A man like this guy wouldn’t be interested in a nobody like me. What he said about the preacher clicked, and I nodded, understanding now why he was being so nice.
“Oh, I get it. You’re religious.” My fake smile fell into place, replacing my genuine one. “The Church. Sorry, I can’t help you.”
“What?” He choked on the swig of beer he’d just downed.
I held up a hand. “Listen, just be careful with them. They aren’t what they seem.” I hitched my chin to the beer hovering in midair as he continued to stare at me in shock. “Let me know if you need another one.”
As I turned to walk away, my heart heavy with disappointment, he reached over the bar and gripped my elbow, tugging me to a stop.
“What just happened?”
I shook my head, keeping my face toward the floor, not daring to glance up because if I did, he’d see all the emotions this short encounter brought over me.
The awkward silence between us was severed when the front door swung open. It slammed against the wall before rebounding, only for the man walking through the door to hold it back with a palm wrapped around the edge.
Devil’s ball sack. What the hell is Brett doing here?
“Who the hell are you?” he yelled from across the bar, finger pointed at the man still holding on to my elbow. Brett’s furious gaze zeroed in on the contact before I could tug myself free from the other man’s grasp. “Is he harassing you, Ellie?”
Instead of being intimidated, the mystery man smiled. “Ellie. Now, was that so difficult?” There was a lightness to his tone that took out the chiding effect of his words. I immediately missed his touch when he pulled away. Digging into the side pocket of his slacks, he withdrew a wallet, thumbed through some bills, and tossed two on the bar. After taking the final sip of beer number two, he shot me a wink. “No, Ellie, I’m not religious, but I do think I’m done here for the night. Thank you for the distraction.”
“I asked you a question,” Brett said, now standing directly behind the newcomer as he casually slipped on his coat. Chest puffed out, standing as tall as he could, Brett was still several inches shorter than the other man. His confidence wavered when the stranger turned, towering over him, and met his glare head-on.
Tension weighed heavy in the room as the two stayed locked in their stare-off. For the second time that night, everyone’s attention was directed at the man.
“I’m not looking for trouble, just needed a drink. I suggest you step back. I don’t do well with people in my personal space.”
“Get out of this bar, and stop harassing my girlfriend,” Brett spat, pointing across the bar to where I’d scooted as far away from the two men as possible.
The mystery man shot me a quick glance. My heart sank in my chest like a lead weight. Not that I thought I had a chance with the guy, but the idea that I could be with a man like him would’ve been fun to imagine later tonight.
“I was just leaving. Have a good night.”
He didn’t look back. Not once.
When the door shut behind him, I deflated, sagging against the register with his two bills crumpled in my fist. It was too much to hope for anyway; better he left now than for me to get my hopes up.
The hard buttons moved beneath my finger as I pressed in the amount for his beers. It was only then that I noticed the amount he left for the two simple drinks. His total added up to eight dollars, which left me with a $192 tip.
I grinned at the two hundred-dollar bills as I carefully smoothed out the wrinkles I’d caused.
“You all right, Ellie?” Brett’s words went in one ear and out the other. “Ellie, I’m talking to you.”
The annoyance in his tone had me looking up at my ex-boyfriend.
Ex, not current like Brett told the man.
Not that it mattered. I’d never see the stranger again.
Even though the thought made me long for something.
Something I was destined to never have.