Chapter 3 Brielle #2
Though the pub is vast, what with it being three stories high, it feels so welcoming.
The ambiance envelops you, with low lighting, small candles aligned in the center of the long rectangular tables that adorn the center of the pub, each seating ten to twelve individuals.
Smaller circular tables that seat four individuals surround the outer portions of the bar as well as the second floor.
The bar is an elongated L shape on the farther left side of the establishment, painted black with various embellished bottles of fancy liquor.
Mirrors adorn the back of the bar, allowing the environment to seem more open.
The only windows are located near the front of the building, on either side of the double doors.
The second story has a glorious balcony overlooking the first floor.
The atmosphere vibrates as even more individuals socialize.
Leading up to the second story is a wooden Victorian staircase with encircling snakes delicately carved into the posts.
“I’ll buy us a round of drinks! Everyone likes whiskey, right?” Amanda shouts.
We settle around one of the circular tables just as Amanda comes back with her hands full of whiskey-filled glasses. I stare at my drink, contemplating what to do, considering I hate alcohol and all its ties to earlier memories.
Tilly shares a small toast to nursing as they begin sipping their drinks.
I fake some small sips as we get dragged into a conversation about Anice’s dating life.
Time goes on, and the girls don’t realize my drink hasn’t budged an inch.
The pub begins to feel more constrictive as more and more individuals come in to seek services.
Amanda and Tilly gawk at the three-piece-suited men and their matching hats.
Two gentlemen stop by our table and I freeze with recognition as bright blue eyes peer at me from beneath familiar pale white-blond hair .
“Angel?” Bobby’s familiar face lights up and he cracks a handsome smile.
The girls snap their heads toward me in shock. The other gentleman with green eyes and black hair looks surprised at our interaction.
“You know one another!?” Amanda asks.
Bobby’s smile widens as he lifts his hand and scratches his bottom lip with his thumb. “You could say she saved me.”
All three girls gasp in disbelief.
“I didn’t save you. No, I just was doing my job.” I try to swiftly regain control of the conversation, but Bobby juts out both hands and shakes them along with his head.
“No, no. You call sewing up my stab wounds just your job ? You saved my life. That’s why I call you ‘Angel’!” Bobby places one broad arm over my shoulder and I freeze with the contact. Though he means no harm, it is hard for my body to not recoil from the past.
Luckily no one notices, so he doesn’t take offense.
He begins telling the girls about the night of our meeting with such passion and detail that he really captures their attention. Reliving the details reminds me of my last fateful night in London.
The pain.
The fire.
The screaming.
My face begins to heat and old emotions threaten to break through.
Not here.
Not now.
I try to compartmentalize and distract myself.
Luckily, again, no one notices, so I figure I could excuse myself to the restroom.
“Pardon, I need to use the restroom,” I murmur.
Before I leave the table, Bobby grabs my bicep. “Hey, I actually need to talk to ya, angel.”
“Yeah?” I curtly ask, as I eye the pathway to the restroom, anxiety creeping up the back of my neck.
“I think we could use your expertise, angel. We need someone like you, a nurse. If ya wanna make some extra money.” His bright eyes ease as he makes the offer and he slips a card from the inside of his jacket.
“Either stop by the pub the next time you’re free and ask for me, or gimme a call here.
My address is on there too.” He gives me a wink and pats my bicep.
“Yeah, I’d be real interested in the extra money. Thank you.” I give him a small smile.
The other girls make muffled noises of disbelief and jealousy.
“If you need another nurse, let me know!” Tilly states.
Anice scoffs. “If you want a better nurse, you’ll wanna hire me!”
Tilly slaps Anice in the back. “That’s enough drinks for you!” she snarks back.
“Ah, sorry, loves, but this one is my guardian angel.” He gives me a small hug before I escape to the restroom. I dump the whiskey down the drain and watch the liquid swirl.
I recollect the card and imagine the “on-call” nurse position he may be referring to.
It would be wise to take it for the extra cash.
I could get to my goal quicker.
As I think of the future, I fill my glass with water and try to breathe through a panic attack.
I need air.
Clutching my drink, I walk back to the table, but as soon as I see the men swarming it, the anxiety coils underneath my skin and I feel as if my lungs are crushed.
Everyone is having fun, flirting, laughing and talking, but it all seems too much right now.
Rain has begun to pour outside the Den, so going out for fresh air isn’t the best option without an umbrella.
I climb the stairs to the second floor, spying the influx of individuals gathered there.
This will not do.
I take a deep breath in through my nose and exhale from my mouth, finding my hand has begun to shake.
I peer up a staircase to my right that leads to the third floor, hoping that there isn’t a flock of individuals up there as well.
I carefully walk upstairs, easing up each step in fear of potentially tripping in my dizzy state.
After what seems like an hour, I reach the top of the stairs, take several deep breaths and brace for what I will find.
Nothing.
I find that no one is up there. In fact, the top floor is rather dark .
Only a couple lights are on and chairs are turned upside down atop the tables. I find a small circular table in the back corner of the room and take a seat.
As I take a couple small sips of water, I outstretch my arms, feeling the cold wood under my forearms, then rest my head on the table.
After a few moments and some deep, soothing breaths, I feel the anxiety recessing to my legs. I’m hopeful I’ll shake the feeling out shortly.
As I peer up from the table, I startle in fright and the room suddenly feels cruelly cold.
A man is standing in front of the tiny table I have claimed.
His tall stature towers above me, as his hands rest in his pockets. His pale white hair is arranged neatly atop his head. Haunting amber eyes stare back at mine.
His head is cocked to the side as he looks me up and down.
“Why, pray tell, is a woman like you sitting here?” he asks.