The Bar
“Another martini and not so much vermouth this time,” she ordered, her glassy blue eyes fixed on the barkeeper’s concerned gaze.
“I think you’ve had enough, miss,” he said, wiping the counter in front of her. “I have some fresh coffee, though. It’s on the house.”
Her lips curled in an angry sneer. “Look, I need a drink, not a babysitter. If you won’t serve me, I’ll go someplace that will.”
The bartender laughed. “I doubt you could get off that stool without falling over, let alone navigate your way out of this place and go elsewhere. But you’re free to try. I’m not holding you prisoner.”
She regarded him with the disdain she usually reserved for ex-husbands, but he didn’t appear fazed at all. In fact, his casual smile told her she had met her match for the first time in a while.
She decided to take a different tact. Leaning forward so her scooped blouse dipped seductively in his direction, she smiled and reached out to finger his dark tie.
Instead of succumbing to this old-fashioned flirtation, he gently removed her hand and stepped out of her reach. Her eyes opened wide, first in shock, then in amusement.
“Gay, right?” she concluded, sitting straight again. “I should’ve known.”
“No, I’m not, but I’m glad you’ve proven my suspicions are correct.”
“What are you saying?”
He was getting tired of this banter. “Look, lady, I’ve worked in this hotel for two years now. I’ve seen every ploy, experienced every schmooze, heard every excuse one human could share with another. For what? A free drink or another drink when they are clearly over their limit. And yet, I’ve been swayed by none of them. Do you know why?”
She didn’t reply, but her unfocused eyes made it clear she wanted to know.
“It’s because I know people. I know what they think, feel, want, and need. I know it all. That’s why I’m good at my job. That’s why I tend bar for a living.”
The woman didn’t know how to respond to this. How could he know? Why would he care, even if he did know?
“Okay, I’ll bite,” she finally said. “Tell me about me.”
He laughed. “Are you sure? This isn’t some parlor trick.”
“I didn’t think it was. I’m serious. Tell me the truth. Who am I?”
The bartender sighed. He was about to go down the rat hole yet again, but he had to make sure she understood the risks.
He looked up at the clock. “Give me about fifteen minutes until my shift ends. Then we’ll find a quiet booth and I’ll break it down for you. Deal?”
She nodded.
“But until then, you should get a cup of coffee into you. Okay?”
“If you insist.”
He poured her a cup and pushed the sweetener bowl and cups of cream in front of her, but she just shook her head.
“See, you didn’t know I like my coffee black, did you?” she said, a look of triumph on her face.
The bartender shrugged but didn’t argue. He knew differently, but he felt no need to disabuse her of her notion of his fallibility.
Twenty minutes later, after the relief bartender arrived to take over, he escorted the woman to a booth in the far reaches of the bar and sat down across from her.
“You should drink more coffee,” he told her. Before she could argue, he raised a hand to get the attention of the cocktail waitress, ordering for both of them.
While they waited for their coffee to be delivered, he examined her face. He took his time, noting every line and imperfection that marked her. She sat still for his perusal, a slight smile on her lips.
“Did you get enough data?” she said when he was finished. “Need me to show you anything else?”
He ignored her implied suggestion and said nothing while the waitress placed two mugs of coffee in front of them along with all the fixings. He kept quiet as he watched the woman doctor the coffee. She noticed him staring at her as she did this.
“Okay, you caught me,” she said. “I hate my coffee black. But I couldn’t let you think you were right, could I?”
He laughed. “Couldn’t you?”
She shook her head. “You men think you know everything about women.”
“No, not everything,” he admitted. “But then again, I’m not most men.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, for starters, I readily accept my limitations.”
Her bitter laugh told him more about her than anything she had said or done up to that point.
“Okay, enough foreplay,” she said, taking a sip of coffee. “Tell me about me. And give it to me straight.”
He smiled. “If you insist. But you need to promise me one thing.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
“You’re not going throw your coffee at me,” he replied, nodding at the mug in her hands. “Or won’t get violent or destructive in any other way. If you do, I’m gone. Got it?”
“Does that happen often?
“You’d be surprised. Do I have your word?” the bartender said.
The woman considered this for a time before she nodded her assent.
“Okay, here it is,” he began. “The obvious observations anyone can see.”
“Such as?”
“You’re lonely, Bored. Depressed. Feeling unloved and unwanted. Insecure.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, that’s easy. A single woman getting drunk alone in a hotel bar. I might as well have stepped out of central casting.”
“In a way you did,” the bartender said. He leaned back to gauge her reaction.
“What are you saying?” she demanded, her voice shrill. She shifted in her seat as she eyed him.
“You know how Shakespeare said we all play a role in life?”
“Yeah, so what? You’re saying I’m just playing a role.”
“Calm down, it’s no insult. We all are.”
“So what role are you playing?”
He chuckled. “I was wondering when you’d ask that.”
“What’s the answer then, smart ass?”
“At the moment, my role is both counselor and soothsayer.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “The counselor part I get, you’re a bartender. That your traditional role.”
“Touché”
“But soothsayer?” she continued, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “You’re saying you can see the future?”
“And the past,” he said with a knowing grin. “Present, past, and future. That’s what I know.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, it’s the truth.”
She leaned forward, a challenge in her eyes. “Fine. Let’s stop beating around the bush. Tell me something about my past.”
“Okay. You’ve been married three times before and were engaged twice more on top of that.”
Her mouth fell open. “How did — ?”
“I told you, that’s what I do.”
She didn’t say anything for several minutes. Instead, she stared into her now empty mug, wondering whether she should press forward.
“I know, you’re wrestling with the pros and cons of knowing the truth,” he finally said. “Few people get father than this.”
She looked up at him. “You do this often?”
He nodded.
“With only women?”
He shook his head. “Men, women, even children sometimes, though obviously not here.”
“Do you ever give them bad news?”
He smiled. “What do you think?”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. Tell me about my present, Mr. Soothsayer.”
“Rob. Just call me Rob.”
“Fine, Rob. My name is Stacey.”
“I know.”
They both laughed at this, though Stacey didn’t know why. He was beginning to freak her out.
“So, go on, Rob. My present.”
“Right. You got some bad news this week, didn’t you?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Yeah, a little.”
“Your mother died.”
She nodded. “That was pretty easy for you, I guess.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. My face is an easy read. My first ex said I should never play poker and I guess he was right.”
Rob tilted his head and regarded her. “But how could I be so specific?”
She didn’t look at him. “It’s just obvious.”
“Well, you and your mother didn’t get along for about ten years.”
“Estranged, I think they call it, right?” Stacey replied, her voice raspy.
“And you regret it, but only now.”
She nodded, willing herself not to cry.
“In fact, her funeral’s tomorrow and you’re still debating whether you’re going to go, even after flying all the way out here.”
Her eyes widened. “Where did I fly in from?”
“Los Angeles,” Rob said without missing a beat. “You flew out of LAX, but you living in Hermosa Beach.”
Stacey slapped her hand on the table. He snapped upright but didn’t utter a word.
“How did you know that?” she demanded, feeling the heat rise to her face. “Did you check the guest records? Because if you did, I’m going to report you.”
He raised a defensive hand. “No, I haven’t checked anything other than to confirm you are staying here so I could charge your room for your drinks. I swear.”
She didn’t appear convinced.
“Besides, how would I know about your ex-husbands and ex-fiancés from hotel records?”
Stacey pondered this for a few moments before she calmed down. “Fine, you’re right. Now tell me about my future. And don’t hold back.”
“I won’t, I promise,” Rob said. “Tomorrow’s the funeral.”
She nodded.
“You won’t decide until the last minute whether to go. But you will go.”
“And then what?”
“Your brother will be shocked to see you as will your stepfather.”
“But…?”
Rob smiled. “But you won’t care. You’ll pay your respects at the church and go to the cemetery and pay your respects there.”
Stacey, who had her eyes closed, opened them. “And that’s it?”
“Then you’re going to come back here, check out, and fly back home.”
She played all this over in her mind for several minutes. Finally, she processed it all and smiled. “So, to prove you wrong, I should just fly home in the morning,”
Rob shrugged. “If you want to live your life that way, it’s your choice. I personally wouldn’t handle it that way, but then again, I’m not you.”
“No, you’re not.”
Rob slid out of the booth and dropped a ten dollar bill on the table. “This will cover the coffee and tip. I’m heading home.”
“Wait,” she said, grabbing his hand.
He looked down on her but said nothing.
“I’m lonely, and a stranger here. You sure you don’t want to keep me company tonight?”
He shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “No, Stacey, you don’t need me. You need to consider your priorities, though.”
Her eyes narrowed and hand tightened on his. “What does that mean?”
Rob extricated himself from her grasp. “Figure it out.”
He walked away before she could utter another word of protest. She watched him disappear through the hallway leading to the main lobby.
Despite her best intentions, Stacey awoke the next morning close to noon, thanks to the insistent pounding on her door by the hotel maid.
After sending her away, she called the front desk to make arrangements for another night’s stay so she could keep the room and then headed into the shower. Her flight was scheduled to depart at 3:35 PM and she had no time to waste.
While she was toweling her hair dry, she replayed her previous night’s debauchery which ended with an infuriating conversation with a know-it-all bartender instead of a tangle of sheets and limbs as she had planned on.
One thing she had to admit, though, was how spooky it was that Rob knew so much about her that couldn’t be dismissed as lucky guesses. He had some sort of physic power, Stacey concluded, but the truth didn’t make it less frustrating knowing she was so easy to read.
She sat in front of the vanity mirror and carefully applied her makeup, all the while keeping an eye on her watch. No way was she going to miss her plane if she could help it!
The Uber arrived in front of the hotel on time and she climbed in, taking one last look at the hotel before closing the door. As far as she was concerned, this chapter of her life was over.
“There’s an accident on the main route to the airport,” the driver said. “But I know a detour.”
“I’m running late,” Stacey replied. “Will you get me there on time?”
“Don’t worry, I got this.”
Stacey sat back and looked out of the window as the car zipped out of the hotel proper and onto the adjoining thoroughfare. She soon lost her bearings, but she blamed that on the alcohol still sloshing inside her.
Fifteen minutes later, the driver made a turn down a long unpopulated street.
“Is this the shortcut?” she asked, a bit panicked.
“Yep,” the driver said. “It’s fine, we’re making good time.”
Soon he made a series of other turns until they came to a small bunch-up in traffic.
“Shit,” the driver muttered.
“What’s wrong? Is something going on?”
Instead of replying, he pointed. There to the right sat a stately church and a long line of cars double-parked in front of it.
“Wedding or funeral,” the driver said in a morose voice.
Stacey looked at the sign in front of the building and sighed. “It’s a funeral.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m supposed to be here. Let me out, okay?”
“But — “
“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for the whole trip to the airport and give you a good tip to boot.”
He grinned. “Sounds good to me, lady.”
The driver stopped the car and waited until Stacey got out with her suitcase.
“Damnit,” she said as she trudged up the stairs to the front door.
Stacey stood away from the others as they milled about the gravesite, saying their goodbyes. So far, she had managed to avoid speaking to anyone. Once or twice, her brother and stepfather glanced over her way, but each time they did, she looked elsewhere.
Finally, the remaining mourners had walked to their cars, leaving behind the cemetery workers to complete their tasks. She thought about walking over to her mother’s casket one last time but decided to leave well enough alone.
As Stacey turned to walk to the exit, she spotted a lone figure watching her. She took off her sunglasses and saw Rob standing there, a placid smile on his face. He headed toward her.
“Okay, you were right,” she said. “I don’t know how you knew, but you guessed it.”
“It wasn’t a guess, but believe as you wish,” he replied. “How are you doing?”
She shrugged. “Torn. Sad, yet relieved in a weird way. You know?”
He nodded. “Deaths will do that. It’ll leave you thinking about her for a long time.”
“Perhaps forever. She was a very complicated woman.”
“As are you.”
She looked into his eyes to see if he chose that moment to be biting, but saw no guile there. He was telling her the truth, unvarnished and all.
“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said after a while. “I hope you meant it that way.”
Rob didn’t reply but turned his head toward an approaching figure. Stacey looked in that direction and inhaled sharply.
“Whatever is, is,” Rob said as Stacey moved cautiously forward.
“Steven,” she said to her brother.
“You came,” he replied, reaching for her, but dropping his arms when she didn’t reciprocate. “But why? You told me on the phone you didn’t care.”
She swallowed. “I wanted to pay my respects.”
“It’s a shame.”
“What is?”
Tears came to Steven’s eyes. “That you waited until she was dead before you did that.”
Stacey tried to dismiss his words, but knew deep in her heart they were what she deserved to hear.
“You were right, Rob,” she said as she wiped her eyes and turning in his direction.
Steven looked at her, puzzled. “Who’s Rob?”
She spun around but didn’t see him. “He was just here. Didn’t you see him?”
Her brother shook his head. “You were standing alone the whole time.”
“How is that possible? He was talking to me like you are.”
Steven gave her a quizzical look. “I think you’re imagining things, Stacey.”
She smiled a sad smile. “Maybe you’re right.”
Steven turned toward the lone black car parked alongside a row of graves. “Dad would love to see you. Want to go say hi?”
Stacey looked in the same direction and nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.”
The siblings walked across the cemetery grounds as Rob watched from a nearby gravestone. He waited until the car pulled away before jogging away in the opposite direction.
Off to another bar, another patron. Another life.