Summer❤
I allow my feet to wander the cold dark streets as a numbness continues to wrack my body. Only a few days previous, I looked at the city with wonder and hope, but now, with the secrets that are lingering over me, it just gives me nothing but fear and concern for what’s to come.
As my feet continue to move, I find myself moving towards Dad’s club, standing on the sidewalk, I gaze up at the tall building, I’ve visited multiple times before. Usually, it was during the day, dad would pop in to check on things and make sure the staff had everything they needed for the night, have a quick meeting with the managers, and we would head off to spend the remainder of the day, sight-seeing, catching a show or heading for lunch.
Those great times now feel like a lifetime ago; I wish I had stayed longer or never even left at all. Maybe if I had stayed, things would have gone very differently for both of us.
Lost in nostalgia, I wipe a single tear from my cheek as the icy wind blows through the street. The odd stillness, leaving an imprint on my ongoing sadness. Pulling my coat tighter around myself, I can’t help but shudder. Stealing glances around the empty street, there’s nothing but the occasional passing car or the rustle of the crisp leaves across the concrete floor.
Pulling out my phone, I blink a couple of times realizing it’s only seven pm. The quiet street now makes sense. I guess people don’t go to the clubs until much later. I know the right and sensible thing to do would be to hail a cab back to my apartment instead of wandering the streets alone, but the thought of returning there makes me feel sick. With the fear that Two/Face could have been behind my father’s murder causes the bile to rise in my throat and leaves me feeling lightheaded. But that doesn’t stop the fucked up feelings I have towards the masked man peeking through and tearing me in two. The conflict I have, like as though someone has wrapped my heart and brain in barbed wire and keeps tightening it every few seconds.
I can’t help but sigh as my conflicted brain just can’t seem to move past the strange pull I have towards him. Sweeping my hair from my face, I move towards a small bar that I’ve visited with my dad a few times before, I’ll take a small amount of familiarity from a bar than heading back to a dark cold apartment right now.
Pushing the door open, the warmth instantly pulls me into an inviting hug. I offer a half smile to the bartender as I approach. Glancing around, I see that it looks fairly quiet, mainly small groups of people and couples enjoying a quiet drink after work. Pulling out the barstool, I take a seat and drape my coat across the back as the bartender stands opposite, offering a warm, friendly smile. The sincerity in his chocolate brown eyes compliments his olive complexion. I almost feel myself leaning in before he blinks, and I realize I’ve just sat there staring like a fucking idiot.
Shaking my head a couple of times, I try to laugh it off. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Rough day?” he retorts.
I feel the smile drain from my face while my shoulders sag. Briefly avoiding his eye contact, I finally reply. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Pulling a glass from above the bar, sensing the immediate shift in moods, he pulls a bottle of Jamesons from behind him and pours two measures before sliding one to me.
“To a shit day.” He says, holding his glass in front of me. Lifting it, we both clink and knock our drinks back simultaneously.
As soon as the hot amber liquid travels down my throat, my face contorts before leaving a small amount of warmth in my stomach.
“Same again?” he asks.
“Please.” I smile, sliding the glass back over to him.
As he pours another measure, I catch him stealing small glances my way. Knowing he’s been caught looking, he eventually asks the lingering question that’s been on the tip of his tongue since I walked in.
“So, you’re not a regular here, so what brings you to this little bar?” he asks, placing his elbow on the bar, lowering himself to my level.
Swirling the second drink in its glass, I get lost in the orange liquid as it flickers in the dimly lit surroundings. Looking back up, his intense gaze is still fixed on me. Shrugging, I finally answer his question. “I’m here for a funeral.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Was it someone close to you?” Taking a sip of my drink, I just nod as my eyes stay fixed on the bar in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I lift my head, meeting his eyes once again.
“My dad.”
As his eyes widen in surprise, he takes a couple of steps back. “Shit, I’m really sorry to hear that.”
I smile, taking another sip. “Thanks, but it’s not necessary.” Trying to move past the awkward pity he’s offering.
“I thought that murder down the road was bad….” Before he can finish the sentence, the bartender senses the uncomfortable shift between us. I halt as the glass stops mid-way to my lips. He throws his hand over his mouth, shaking his head slightly.
“Summer?” he asks curiously as my eyes snap to his. My brows knit together slightly as the usual uneasy feeling rises in my gut. I can only nod my head before the surprise takes over his expression.
“Shit, sorry! That was rude…I .. I knew your dad.”
“You did?” I ask curiously.
He nods, offering a small smile before busying himself, wiping a small spill from the bar. “Yeah, he’d come in here a couple times a week for lunch, getting away from the office. We’d chit-chat here and there.” He hesitates for a moment before continuing, “I’m sorry we met like this. I was really shocked to hear what happened. Your dad was a good guy. I’m Alex, by the way.” Extending his large hand out to me, I accept. Giving it a small shake as my small hand gets lost in his.
Feeling the tears fill my eyes, I blink a couple of times and let out a small laugh, trying to shrug off my emotions. “Thanks, he was the best.”
Lifting the bottle, he tops up my glass before excusing himself. Glancing around the bar, it begins to get a little busier with men and women dressed in work attire. The soft jazz continues to play as I feel the warmth of the whisky running through my veins. As my heightened anxiety begins to subside, I continue to sip my drink and enjoy an odd feeling of normality in the city. The warm décor of the bar compliments its slight rustic country feel as I smile, watching patrons laugh and joke with each other.
The buzzing in my back pocket pulls my focus away, and as “withheld number” lights up the screen once again, I shake my head and hit the ignore button. Right now, I just want to enjoy a drink in peace without any worries, but that’s easier said than done as the second incoming call appears. Rolling my eyes, I do the same as before. Giving him a swift fucking ignoring as the confidence of the liquor begins to take over.
“Hey, we have karaoke starting soon if you fancy making a night of it?” I look between Alex and the karaoke stand, smiling, but my gut is definitely telling me three drinks was enough.
“I’m good, thanks.” Taking the last gulp of my drink, I place some cash onto the side before reaching for my coat, but before I can turn, I feel the same strong hand grip my wrist. As my eyes snap to his, the person looking back at me, doesn’t have the same warm, inviting smile he had earlier. Right now, it’s drenched in desperation; his wide eyes have a sinister slant, and I feel every hair on my body stand on end.
Trying to pull away, his grip gets tighter with each tug, but he doesn’t let up. We stay fixed in a deadlock, with the burning sensation on my skin beginning to sting.
“Let me go.” I speak through gritted teeth, refusing to back down.
Alex shakes his head as a deadpan look creeps across his face.
“I can’t let that happen, Summer, I’m sorry.”
My face contorts into that of confusion.
“Sorry for what?” I ask, but I follow his gaze towards the bar”s main door; in that moment, I know I’ve walked right into a trap. As my breathing becomes heavier, sweat forms all over my body, leaving me feeling like I’m on fire. My eyes dart around me, looking for the source of the trap. A loud bang pulls our attention to the main doors as they burst open.
“Finally, there you are!”
Relief washes over me entirely as Detective Strode enters the bar, a large jolly smile on his face as he approaches us.
“We were meant to meet down the road, Summer!” he says smiling before turning his attention to Alex, who now luckily loosened his grip enough to allow me to slip away and move towards the detective.
Eyeing the money on the bar, he looks to Alex. Even with a smile on his face, his tone is full of authority as Alex begins to sink slightly behind the bar.
“Well looks like we’re all squared up here. Have a good evening.” He politely nods, not allowing Alex to interject. Pulling the door open, the suffocating I feel begins to fade as we step into the street. Gripping my elbow tight, he begins leading me in the opposite direction towards a car parked on the sidewalk. With his phone in one hand, he holds it close to his ear whilst scanning the area around us.
“I think Harry’s got to the staff at O’Reilly’s bar. It’s about fifty yards from Michael’s club. I’m taking Summer elsewhere. I’ll call you when we arrive.” without even questioning, I pick my feet up and match his pace with my heart rate rapidly increasing at his voice”s urgency. Approaching the car, I finally speak as detective Strode opens the passenger door.
“What’s going on?” I ask, finally turning to face him.
“Get in the car, Summer, I’ll explain on the way.” As he pushes me into the car, I don’t have a chance to argue before the echoing of gunshots rings through the car. Ducking out of sight, I throw my hands over my head as the bullets ricochet off the bumper and bonnet. Unable to see where they’re coming from, I try to throw the door open, hoping to see Detective Strode, but it’s no use. The spray of bullets is relentless as I lie across the two seats, huddled into a ball.
The sound of tyre’s screeching, a black car tears past without acknowledging the carnage in its wake. As my whole body shakes, I hesitantly peer above the dash as a crowd of people move cautiously towards us from the nearby bars. Kicking open the passenger door, I manage to sit up before my eyes land on the crimson liquid soaking into the concrete. Throwing my hand over my mouth, a blood-curdling scream escapes my mouth as I fall from the car, landing on the street with a thud as I crawl over to Detective Strode.
“SOMEONE PLEASE HELP! CALL 911 PLEASE!” My screams bounce off the tall buildings, “HELP!....HELP!” sobs rack my body as I throw my hands across his torso, trying to stop the bleeding. “The police will be here soon, I promise.” I whisper as the light in his eyes begins to fade. I continue to shout and plead with people and eventually begin to move quicker as they catch sight of us lying in the street.
As people begin to approach, I feel someone pull me away as they continue to stop the bleeding, but my eyes move to Alex. My cold stare meets his as he stands with a wide-eyed expression outside the bar. That fucking prick probably thought he could palm me off to Harry and get paid. My heart is thundering in my ears, but I don’t pull my focus away as he begins to move away from the bar and makes his way towards the end of the street. Before rounding the corner and disappearing altogether. The rage consumes my entire being as I stand in the street, the sound of sirens near us, but I can’t pull my focus from the corner.
I will make you fucking suffer, one way or another.