21. Jay
CHAPTER 21
JAY
I glance up at the TV mounted on the wall of The Rusty Oak and catch the tail end of a severe weather warning. A severe storm is heading our way, expected to make landfall by evening.
I frown. I pull my phone out of my pocket and google the warning so I can get more information.
Apparently, from seven p.m. to ten p.m. will be the most severe.
The usually calm town of Maplewood isn’t prepared for this kind of weather, and I can’t help feeling a little worried. The Rusty Oak is more than just a business to me; it’s my second home.
As the news turns to a feel-good story about dogs being adopted from shelters, I turn down the volume and look around. It’s been a while since I prepped The Rusty Oak for a big storm, but I know what needs to be done.
I head to the back room to see if the wooden boards I used to cover the windows last time are still there. I find most of what I need in the storeroom and decide to get started.
As I begin hammering wood over the windows, I wonder if I should go ahead and close the bar for tonight or if I should stay open. People might come and end up sheltering in place during the worst of the storm.
I imagine selling double my usual number of drinks for a Wednesday night, and I decide to leave it open. Besides, my employees are counting on the income, and the storm might not even be that bad.
I’ve been working on the building for a good hour when I hear my name from the parking lot.
I turn around and see Fiona, one of my waitresses. She’s standing in the parking lot, a few feet away from the bottom of my ladder. She crosses her arms and cranes her neck to look up at me. “Did you hear about the storm?”
“Yeah, I just saw the warning.” I climb down the ladder, being careful. The last thing I need is a broken ankle so I can’t finish securing the bar.
“So, am I still working tonight? I wasn’t sure, and you weren’t answering your phone. I was downtown anyway, so I just decided to stop by and see.”
“I’m still planning on being open. After I go through this storm prep list, The Rusty Oak might be a safer place than a lot of the homes here. Do you mind starting your shift now?”
“Now? It’s only two. We don’t open until four.”
“I know, but we need to start securing everything. I don’t want to take any chances. I’ll pay you time and a half to help me get this place ready for the storm.”
Fiona doesn’t take long to think it over, and I’m grateful for someone to help me. I want the preparation done by the time the bar is supposed to open so I can focus on the customers who do come.
“What do you need me to do?”
“I’m almost done with this window. But then, I want to bring in the outdoor furniture. I think there is enough space in the storage room, or even part of the kitchen. If something doesn’t fit there, I’ll take it upstairs to the loft. Then, I want to make a list of supplies just in case.”
“Good luck. I was just at the grocery store, and there was no bread left.”
I wave that away. “Who needs bread? I’ll take canned beans instead, healthier for you anyway. Canned chicken and tortillas. That could keep me alive for a good week.”
“I hope it’s not that serious,” Fiona comments as she stacks two of the outside chairs and heads toward the doorway of the bar.
I finish up the last window, then climb down the ladder and put it away behind the bar. Then I help Fiona gather the furniture from the patio.
The sky is already turning a threatening shade of gray, and the wind is picking up, making our task all the more urgent. Fiona and I work quickly. She brings the furniture inside, and I take it up to the loft.
“Thanks for helping. I don’t think I could’ve done this alone. Do you mind if I send you to the store with a list of things to buy. I’ll give you the bar’s credit card.”
“A store and plastic ?” Fiona asks, laughing despite the gravity of the situation. “Sure, go ahead.”
I send Fiona on her way and stand outside the doorway of the bar. I’m not a worrier by nature. I’ve always been the kind of guy who goes with the flow and doesn’t think about the terrible things that tomorrow could bring. But right now, I can’t help it.
I decide to seal the edges of the windows with heavy duty tape. One article online suggests doing that, just in case a window breaks despite the wood covering it. So, out comes the ladder again. I climb up and get the tape in place quickly. Fiona is just returning with a trunk full of groceries when I climb down.
As I bring the groceries inside, the bar is eerily quiet, the usual background chatter replaced by the howling of the wind outside.
It’s just opening time now, but I’m not sure if we’ll have any customers. I finally find my phone where I left it under the counter and find that Jerry has already called out, saying he doesn’t want to be out in the kind of weather we’re having tonight. Another waitress has too. It will just be Fiona, Violet, and me, assuming Violet is planning to show up. Oddly enough, I don’t have any messages from her.
I’m just about to text Violet to let her know she doesn’t have to come to work if she doesn’t want to when the lights flicker. “Great. Let’s make sure we’ve got flashlights and batteries handy.”
Despite the fact that it’s the middle of the afternoon, without the lights on inside, it’s going to be pretty dark.
Fiona follows me to the storage room, where we start rummaging through shelves. The storm seems to be moving faster than predicted. Maybe it’s going to hit here at five rather than seven. The other alternative is that we aren’t even close to the worst of it yet. Fiona and I find a couple of flashlights and a stash of batteries, which I place on the counter for easy access.
“I think we’re as ready as we can be,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
“Let’s just hope it passes quickly,” Fiona agrees. I can tell that she’s feeling some of the same worry that I’m feeling.
We head back to the bar area, and she starts organizing some of the supplies for better access in case we end up working with flashlights.
I usually have a customer or two wandering in by now, but no one has come. Maybe trying to keep The Rusty Oak open despite everything was a bad idea. I check my phone for updates and see a text from Violet, letting me know she’s on her way. I’m relieved; having her here makes me feel more secure somehow.
I just want to know that she’s okay, and I want her to arrive and be out of the storm before it really starts.
The wind outside is growing louder, rattling the windows despite my efforts to secure them. I turn to Fiona, who’s standing close by, and we both jump when the front door suddenly swings open, blown by a gust of wind.
Fiona practically leaps into my arms, and I put my arm around her shoulders, squeezing her to my chest.
But then, I realize that the door didn’t just blow open. There’s someone standing there. Her red hair is whipping in the wind, despite her best effort to put it in a ponytail. She stares at us with wide green eyes, and I smile at her, glad to see that Violet has made it safely.
But why is she just standing there? “Come in. Close the door!” I call, the wind taking my voice and throwing it in the opposite direction.
Her eyes widen at the sight of us, and I realize how it must look. Fiona and I are pressed close together, both of us a little disheveled from the preparations.
I step back as casually as I can from Fiona, trying to put a little distance between us. “Violet, hey. We were just securing the place against the storm. I think we’re ready for business though.”
Violet’s eyes flicker between the two of us, and I can’t quite read her expression. There’s a mixture of surprise, maybe even hurt, but I don’t get a chance to address it before she turns her attention to the bar.
“Not sure what kind of business you’re ready for. I just came to work, but it looks like there isn’t anything that needs to be done.”
I hesitate, feeling a sudden awkwardness in the air. “We’re just waiting for customers now. The windows are taken care of. We have light and supplies. Come sit with us!” My invitation is overly loud and overly eager.
Fiona and I weren’t doing anything, but I could understand how Violet might think we were messing around. At the same time, we just agreed to a no-strings-attached relationship, so doesn’t that mean that Violet gave up her right to be jealous?
I feel a pang of guilt. I hadn’t meant for Violet to walk in on a situation that could be easily misunderstood. Fiona gives me a sympathetic look as she sits across the bar from where I stand.
I want to talk to Violet, but there’s something about her face that says I shouldn’t dare.