Kinged(6)

Chapter Three


I got home as fast as I could after work, intent on my plan. I ran up my stoop, unlocked my front door, and threw myself into my tiny studio apartment. My bedroom was my living room, which was also my kitchen, and the only separate space I had was my bathroom and shower. Still, it was in a fantastic neighborhood, and so close to work. I kept the place clear of clutter and very neat, mostly because I had no extra room for garbage. I dropped my keys in a small bowl and made my way into my living room slash bedroom space to get changed.

After debating on my outfit for way too long, I finally settled on a black slinky top that showed off my body and high waisted black shorts. I didn’t want to dress up too much, because I had no clue what that place was going to be like, but my guess was not super classy. I put on dark eyeliner and dark eye shadow and pretended like the makeup was a kind of shield, protecting the real me from whoever had taken over my body. I took a shot for confidence, and ran back out into the street.

I flagged a cab, rode it down toward the address I had, and walked the last few blocks. It was a comfortable summer night, but I felt like I was sweating already. My heart was hammering in my chest as I made my way down the dark sidewalk. When I got closer to the block, I kept wondering what I was getting myself into. I had no idea what the neighborhood was like, let alone how friendly the bar would be. The area looked fine, as far as I could tell, and the streets were pretty clean. I felt like someone had taken control of my legs though, and I was only along for the ride. Just to be safe, I pulled my phone out and typed a text to Amy.

Hey girl, I’m at that bar Drake’s tonight. I hit send, and hoped she wouldn’t take it as an invitation to join me. I needed to force myself to do something outside my comfort zone; otherwise, I’d sink deeper into the rut, and fester. But I realized nobody knew where I was, and thought at least someone should have an idea in case I disappeared. Sane people would take that as a sign to turn around and go home, but I was so beyond sanity that I was ignoring my own instincts.

I turned the corner and saw it. Halfway down the block was a green sign with the word “Drake’s” in script. It looked exactly like what I expected. The front door was dirty and peeling, the windows were fogged over from years of smoke and trash, and the sign was yellowing from age. Sketchy dudes hung around outside the front door smoking cigarettes. It was the definition of a dive.

I felt a deep pang of fear hit me hard. I really didn’t know what I was doing. It was probably a safe neighborhood, but who knew what kind of people were inside that bar. If I had to judge based on the guys hanging around outside, it was probably full of thieves and bikers, or worse. My pulse quickening, I forced myself to keep walking toward the door. As I got closer, the guys looked up.

“Hey there, blondie,” one guy called out. I ignored him and kept walking closer. He was chubby, and wore a tattered short leather jacket and a black T-shirt underneath. His jeans were loose and chains hung around his hips. His arms were covered in tattoos, and one half of his head was shaved, the other half slicked back with oil. I found him completely repulsive, but I just had to get passed him, and then I was golden.

“Blondie, got a name?” he said again as I got closer. His friends laughed and grinned. I gave him a ‘fuck off’ look, and he chuckled softly.

“No name, that’s cool.” I grabbed the handle of the door. It was grimy and slick. “Coming inside, blondie? This your usual crowd?”

I looked at him again and felt myself speaking before I had a chance to reconsider what I was about to say.

“You’re definitely not my usual crowd, I know that much.” I couldn’t believe I had said that. Was I trying to provoke the creepy guy? I felt myself tense up in anticipation of his response.

The three guys were silent for a few seconds. I could feel the tension build, and I braced myself for what was coming next. Suddenly, they all busted out laughing. The two other guys hooted and slapped the chubby one on the back as I slipped passed them and into the bar. Crisis averted, for the time being at least.

Inside, the space was dark, and a thin cloud of smoke hung over everything. There was a long bar on the right side of the room, with a few scattered tables and booths, plus pool tables and a dartboard toward the back. The walls were covered in beer ads and pictures of motorcycles.

Not sure what to do, I made my way over to the bar and found a seat at the end closest to the door. I sat down and looked at the crowd. It was surprisingly full for a Wednesday night. There was a mix of young and old, and most of the guys looked like the same type as the dudes smoking out front. There were a lot of leather jackets, black shirts, facial hair, and tattoos. I felt like I stood out, but nobody was looking my way. Eventually, the bartender, a gruff old guy with a beer gut, asked me what I wanted, and I said a whiskey and coke. When he brought my drink, I sipped it slowly. The warmth spread out into my stomach and gave me a jolt of confidence.