In any event, read if you will, comment if you like, but above all...I hope you enjoy.
***
Jack slid across the booth and leaned against the corner, feeling a cold draft on the back of his neck from the window. From his seat, he could see the whole place, including the front entrance and the swinging door that led to the kitchen. The place was crowded tonight – there was a stream of constant movement from families, couples, old folks, and groups of young friends. There were even a few loners like himself. As he watched, he stifled a yawn. He was tired. He’d spent much of the day getting ready for tonight, and he hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours the last two days.
A perky blond came over and gave her eight-hour-shift smile and asked if he wanted to try the baked salmon. He declined, but ordered a Jack and Coke. His friends always laughed at this, ribbing him to order a “Me and Coke.” He hadn’t thought this was funny the first time, or the 900th time they’d said it. Then again, there was precious little to laugh at these days.
As the waitress headed off, weaving between the coats and chairs, Jack ran a hand through his sandy brown hair and shifted in the booth, his jeans squeaking lightly on the vinyl seat. He looked at his watch and then up at the door. She was late.
That stirred up a thousand misgivings and doubts about whether she’d show at all, but he pushed these dark thoughts aside. Of course she’d come. It was early, the place was crowded and well-lit. No reason not to. Everyone knew this was the busiest place in town and she said she lived nearby. As he continued to look absently at the crowds around him, a woman walked in. She shook off the cold as she looked around and for a moment, he thought it might be her. But, she waved and smiled in recognition at a guy at the bar, moving quickly to join him. Jack couldn’t quite suppress the sigh.
The minutes ticked by. The waitress returned with his drink and he sat sipping it slowly, alternatively watching the bubbles in the glass and the door each time the small bell caught his attention above the din. About fifteen minutes after the hour, the door opened for the twelfth time and as soon as he looked up, the woman who had entered looked his way. Somehow, he knew it was her.
She was small; young looking. She wore a long dark coat that must have been tailored, and dark gloves which she was absently-mindedly removing as she spoke to the maitre’d. She unbuttoned her coat, and when he saw the red sweater he raised a hand and nodded to her. She began to head towards him. This was it.
He stood as she approached and held out a hand. She took it firmly in her own and shook it exactly the right number of times before releasing it and sliding into the booth opposite where he’d been sitting. She said nothing. He took his own seat and for a moment, the two merely observed one another. She had reddish hair and dark eyes; her skin was the color of coffee with too much cream. He idly wondered what she thought of his dark goatee and the thin rimmed glasses he’d just gotten. He dismissed the thought and leaned back, waiting for her to break the silence.
“Nice place,” she said in a voice deeper than he’d expected. She looked around, her expression one of approval.
“It serves,” he replied, realizing that her meaning of nice likely had little to do with the ambiance. Then again, neither did his reply.
The waitress came back at this moment and his companion ordered a gin and tonic on the rocks and the waitress bustled off to the bar. They fell back into silence, still appraising, still waiting for the humming tension to break. When it came, she sipped her drink thoughtfully and then took a deep breath and spoke.
“The item which we discussed is of great value to more than myself. You must realize that.” This seemed half a plea and half an admonition. He nodded.
“Of course. How could I not? I’m no expert, but I know enough to realize we’re talking about more than just bones in the dirt.” She coughed delicately and he swore her cheeks flushed faintly. He wondered what he’d said, then mentally shrugged and waited for her to enter into what he knew would be a series of intense negotiations. He did not intend to relinquish his find easily. He cocked his head to one side as she inhaled slowly, as if picking her words carefully.
“Bones, indeed.” She was stalling. He could almost see the gears turning in her head as she looked first at him, and then idly at the crowd around them. When her eyes came back to him, he saw a resolve there. “This is not the place to talk further.”
He raised one eyebrow and looked at her thoughtfully, leaning back against the corner formed by the wall and the booth. It was her who had been insistent that the initial meeting be in a public place. He had been intrigued enough by her tone to forgo the usual channels. As he watched her, Jack felt a vague sense of unease ripple through his awareness – the insistence that something here wasn’t right. Maybe it was the resolute wariness now etched in her features. Or maybe, he thought wryly, it’s nothing.
“Sure,” he said, forcing himself to sound casual as he returned her gaze. “What did you have in mind?”
“Now,” she said, still with the clipped tone of having made a decision that she was now running with. “You have a car?”
He nodded, a faint amusement rapidly replacing the unease from just a moment before. He threw a twenty from his money clip onto the table and reached for his distressed leather jacket. She stood and pulled on her own jacket and waited for him to lead the way.
It had snowed while he was inside and the swirling chill cut through the one drink he’d had while inside. He shuddered once, then led them briskly to the black Jag parked across the quiet street.
You need to follow Jack outside, see where he goes. May be nowhere, may be magical--you won't know until you follow.
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