Faces of Beth, page 14
Andrew put his booklight on the dullest, faintest setting and
settled in to read a fantasy novel. He wasn’t in the mood for the
action-packed world of Orphan X tonight . He wanted to be swept
away to a world that wasn’t so much like his own. He needed ogres,
elves, and dragons. Mystical creatures that could help him suspend
his belief for a little while.
Even with all the evil in those worlds, he often thought he would
rather spend his time in a place with dark mages, goblins, and orcs
than here in his hometown. He could carve out a nice home in the
side of a mountain and spend the rest of his days with Beth. Without
the real world to interfere with their dysfunctional family of sorts, life
might be okay.
He could watch Alex dance with faeries, fish in a magical pond
with Peter, fuck Ruby by campfire, use wooden swords to spar with
Gore, and sip tea with Beth on the front porch of their cottage. If they
were truly alone, none of it would matter. Not in a fantasy world.
If he could will them into another world, he would. Let Gore run
around the hills and plains, attacking otherworldly beasts instead of
strange men at nightclubs. Let him be a warrior assassin instead of a
demented serial killer.
What it must be like to be the inventor of these kinds of stories.
To be the writer of an epic fantasy.
It often dazzled him how authors were able to put fingers to a
keyboard and build a dimension or a faraway land that never existed
before their say-so. How could a man or a woman live in a regular
world like this one and go to work, meet up with friends, drive
around, shop at the mall, eat at restaurants, and perform all the other
mundane functions of this boring world and then retire to their
computer, flip a mental switch, and be in an entirely different
headspace?
So many worlds.
So many characters.
All within one person’s head.
Like Beth.
It occurred to Andrew that Beth wasn’t so different from these
world creators. She’d built her own characters. She’d built her own
home inside her head where each of her characters lived inside his
or her own room and only came out when it was their turn.
What if Beth could learn to harness that energy in a different
way? What if she was meant to be an author but lost sight of how to
control her characters?
Would the world’s authors all have dissociative identity disorder if
they couldn’t write? If they had no gift of the written word, would all
their multiple personalities be stuck inside their heads?
It was an interesting thought. Andrew wondered if Beth had ever
tried writing. Maybe she would be an outstanding author. Alexandra
and Peter would make a great coming-of-age novel. Ruby would
probably fit an erotica storyline. Gore would definitely be suspense
thriller and Father Dennis – horror.
As that thought came to mind, Andrew glanced over at the bed
and saw that Beth, Ruby, was gone. All that remained was the
crumpled up sheet and comforter. How could he have missed her
getting up? He hadn’t heard the bathroom door close. He hadn’t
heard the bedroom door open. She’d simply vanished.
Andrew dropped his book and booklight into his chair, climbed
onto the bed on all fours, and patted her empty spot with his hands,
like she might actually be there and his eyes were only playing tricks
on him.
She wasn’t there.
“Beth?” he called out.
“You were thinking of me,” came a deep, hoarse voice.
Hands grabbed hold of his hips and suddenly Andrew felt himself
being dragged from behind, lifted up into the air, and launched
against the wall. He smacked the hard surface with his back and slid
to his ass on the floor.
The dark, shadowy figure of Father Dennis reached down,
grabbed hold of Andrew’s shirt, and hoisted him up where he
slammed him against the wall.
Andrew was lifted higher than Beth’s body should have been able
to handle. Not only because of the strength it would take but
because she was too short for this. Yet, Father Dennis was tall, at
least 6’5”, and had driven Andrew so far up the wall his head was
nearly touching the ceiling.
“You should be ashamed,” Father Dennis barked.
“Beth,” Andrew squeaked out as Father Dennis’s hands wrapped
around his throat and squeezed.
Andrew wanted to kick out, but he didn’t want to hurt his wife’s
body. But the closer he looked through his watering eyes, the more
he became convinced this wasn’t his wife at all. He couldn’t see the
face of this thing clearly because of the wide hat the old man wore.
“Beth isn’t here right now,” Father Dennis said followed by a
wheezing chuckle.
“What… are… you?” Andrew managed.
“All your concerns. All your worries. All your nightmares. I am all
there is.”
“I don’t—” Andrew’s words were cut short. He couldn’t breathe.
He was blacking out.
“Ask her about the nun,” Father Dennis said. “She needs to
remember. They won’t let her. But she needs to remember. Ask Gore
about it. Let’s see how angry we can make him.”
“I—”
“Or next time I will snap your neck.”
Father Dennis spun him around and flung him against the far wall
like a ragdoll, knocking him out cold.
14
When Andrew came to, he was alone on his bedroom floor. His eyes
fluttered open slowly at first but then he remembered the assault
from the old priest and jerked fully awake. He slid his ass against the
carpet until his back was against the wall and threw his hands up to
guard his face in case another attack came.
How long have I been out? Where’s the old man?
“Beth!”
He kept his back against the wall where he could survey the
entire room without a sneak assault from the wicked old bastard.
Light shined into the room from the bathroom but only through
the wedged beam of the slightly ajar door. The bed was empty and
so was the rest of the room, but in the doorway stood a shadowy
figure.
Andrew knew that form and hoped this time it was Beth here with
him. As the figure walked into the room, all hope left Andrew’s body.
He could tell from the way the person walked with his arms out at his
sides, so full of strength and anger, that it was Gore.
Beth’s darker version came closer to him, squatted, and with his
face mostly hidden in the shadow of his hood, he reached out and
touched Andrew’s forehead.
“Gore,” Andrew said.
The beam of the bathroom light shined off the side of his face
and Andrew saw eyes he knew so well looking back at him, but they
didn’t contain the warmth he knew from his wife. This glare held a
coldness in it. Gore respected him, he suspected, but there was no
love there. Yet, the tender touch on his forehead was different. This
wasn’t like Gore at all, and for a second, he wondered if this dark
personality of hers cared about him. He seemed… worried.
As if he realized himself that he’d shown too much emotion, Gore
yanked his arm away, stood, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.
Then he turned and started for the bedroom door.
“Wait,” Andrew said.
Gore didn’t slow down.
“Please,” Andrew added. “Please, wait. Are you going out?”
Gore stopped and grunted his answer. He was going out, and
Andrew knew that meant he might be going on the hunt. His head
ached and he was still shaken up from his encounter with the priest,
but he couldn’t stand by and allow his wife to take any more lives,
whether the men deserved it or not.
“I want to go with you,” Andrew informed him.
Gore stopped, with his head down peering at his feet, and
grunted once more. Then, with a wave of his hand, in his deep,
throaty growl, he said, “Fine. Come on then.”
Andrew drove this time, with Gore giving silent directions. Most of
it was through finger pointing to the left and right with each
necessary turn. Sometimes, when Andrew asked a question, the
silent, brooding figure in the passenger seat answered with a shrug,
nod, or one of his grunts. Occasionally, he would say in a low
whisper, “Yes.”
It was so strange to him how his wife could have such a sweet
speaking voice and had the singing voice of an angel, but once she
packed herself into this hooded sweatshirt and jeans, she barely
made more than throaty growls. When she did speak, it seemed
almost painful for her.
“Turn here,” Gore commanded while shaking a finger wildly at the
right.
The turn was coming up fast and the light was green, so Andrew
changed lanes as quickly as he could, cutting off a car in the
process. It honked at him, and he held a hand up to wave as if the
driver would be able to see him through the darkness of the night
and the tinted windows.
He slowed down the best he could and turned right at the light.
“If you don’t want to call any attention to us,” Andrew said, “you
might want to give me more notice before a turn next time.”
Gore didn’t respond until two blocks down when he pointed at an
all-glass structure wedged between taller condominium buildings.
The sign out in front of the club was lit up bright white with purple
neon trim. It read: Platinum. That was all. One word.
Andrew was unfamiliar with the place but thought it looked like it
might be an overpriced strip club where the dancers would probably
prostitute themselves out but would insist they were escorts, not sex
workers.
“What are we doing here, Gore?” Andrew asked.
“You’ll see,” Gore replied.
Andrew wasn’t dumb enough to park in the business lot. There,
they would encounter bouncers, valet parkers, and anyone who’d
exited the building to get a breath of fresh air and drown it in
cigarette smoke. No, they needed to park somewhere they could
easily escape, and nobody would remember seeing their car.
His goal tonight was to stop Gore from hurting anyone, but if he
failed, he wanted them to be able to make a clean getaway.
Gore barely waited for the car to stop before he hopped out and
walked toward the club, leaving Andrew to hurry and follow. The
bouncer at the door barely paid them attention other than to hold out
his hand and accept the twenty-dollar cover charges which, of
course, Gore failed to mention beforehand leaving Andrew to fork
out a fifty to which he was informed he would not be getting change.
This message was delivered by way of the bouncer pointing at a sign
that read: $20 cover per person. Exact change only.
Inside, the crowd separated as the entry corridor branched off
into two hallways. A neon sign above the left showed a naked lady
on a stripper pole, swinging around it, with the pole between two
enormous tits. Gore pulled Andrew in that direction, ignoring the
other option which led to a hallway beneath an electric sign with a
naked man swinging his hefty dick around like a helicopter propeller.
Andrew was glad they’d veered left. With Gore, they could have
gone either way.
As they entered the club, Andrew noticed most of the men and
women patrons were dressed as if they’d come over straight from a
business meeting. In his polo and khakis and Gore’s jeans and
hoodie, they were way underdressed until a group of what appeared
to be college kids showed up. Now, Andrew felt like one of their
professors.
“You look like you could do bad things to a good girl,” a blonde
with her hair in a messy bun stepped in front of Gore and eyed him
up and down. She seemed to notice she was addressing a woman in
men’s clothes and then changed her tune. “Or maybe we can join
together and do bad things to your man.”
Andrew’s eyebrows shot up and he had to stifle his laugh. He’d
never considered having a threesome. He had his hands full with
Ruby and when his wife was playing the part of the seductress, he
was perfectly content.
Gore looked over at him as if wondering what he thought of the
woman’s proposal and for a second, Andrew thought this might be a
trick. He wondered if Beth was in there waiting on his answer,
checking to see what he thought of bringing another woman into
their bed.
“No,” Andrew said, finally finding his voice. “No thank you.”
“You look like you might change your mind,” the blonde said. She
turned her attention back to Gore and added, “Maybe you can talk
him into it. If not, if one of you wants a lap dance, I’ll be at the bar.
And if you want to buy a girl a drink…”
She didn’t finish but walked away.
“Seems she liked you,” Andrew said, giving Gore a nudge to his
ribs.
“We’re not here for her,” he said.
Andrew scanned the rest of the club and saw many other women
like the blonde, all dressed in skimpy clothing. At the center of the
club was a T-shaped stage, but it was empty. Instead, the dancers
walked around the main bar area and tried to solicit customers. He
wondered if Gore had gone to bed with any of these women during
his nightly rendezvous. Surely, he couldn’t be murdering someone
every time he went out.
When he was younger, Andrew went to quite a few strip clubs.
None were as nice as this one. Here, it seemed the women were
classier. Not so much in the way they spoke, as evident by the
blonde who’d approached them, but their style and overall look was
more refined. This wasn’t the kind of joint he’d visited in college.
“Come,” Gore told him as he made his way toward the back of
the club.
Andrew followed him until Gore sat down at a round table placed
to the side of the stage. Once they were seated across from each
other, Gore said, “Order us each a beer.” His eyes, Gore’s eyes,
were faintly illuminated by an overhead purple light and Andrew
found himself glued to his gaze.
Her gaze.
A glimmer of hope washed over him as he thought about the
woman seated across from him. He knew it wasn’t Beth, but for a
second, he chose to believe he was on a date with her. His heart
broke a little at the realization that he so rarely got the opportunity to
take her out for a night on the town. They didn’t often get the chance
to sit across from each other at a restaurant or go out to the movies
or rent a hotel for the night like most couples.
“Can I get you two something to drink?” a waitress asked, pulling
him out of his thoughts.
“Umm, yeah,” he said, his eyes still on Gore who was staring at a
group of people sitting on a wall-length couch on the other side of
the stage. “Two beers, please.”
“Two beers, got it, sweetie,” the waitress said and then
disappeared.
Andrew hadn’t even gotten a look at the woman. He’d been too
lost in his thoughts. In the sadness his marriage had brought him.
He’d been so in love with Beth. He still was. But this life was so
fucking difficult.
You won’t give up on her. You love her too much.
“Beth,” Andrew said, thinking there might be a chance that she’d
shove Gore out of the way and show up right now to share a drink
with him.
Gore whipped his head to the right and glared at him. “Don’t.”
Andrew nodded.
The waitress returned with the beers, set them down, and as she
was about to walk away, Gore grabbed her wrist, causing the woman
to stop and glare down at him. The bouncer standing next to a door
on the far wall noticed and stepped toward them.
Andrew’s heart skipped a beat.
“Got any coins left?” Gore asked.
The waitress smiled and held a hand up to stop the advancing
bouncer.
“You’re in luck,” she said. “We’re down to only four. I’ve got one
on me, but I can get another if you’re interested.”
“We are,” Gore said.
“Twenty each,” she said, “I’ll be right back.”
She walked away and Andrew leaned forward in his chair. “Are
you fucking crazy? That bouncer was about to come over here and
knock both our heads off.”
Gore scoffed. “He could have tried.”
“And what’s this about twenty each? She better not mean dollars.
I already lost fifty getting in this place. I don’t have another forty. I
settled in to read a fantasy novel. He wasn’t in the mood for the
action-packed world of Orphan X tonight . He wanted to be swept
away to a world that wasn’t so much like his own. He needed ogres,
elves, and dragons. Mystical creatures that could help him suspend
his belief for a little while.
Even with all the evil in those worlds, he often thought he would
rather spend his time in a place with dark mages, goblins, and orcs
than here in his hometown. He could carve out a nice home in the
side of a mountain and spend the rest of his days with Beth. Without
the real world to interfere with their dysfunctional family of sorts, life
might be okay.
He could watch Alex dance with faeries, fish in a magical pond
with Peter, fuck Ruby by campfire, use wooden swords to spar with
Gore, and sip tea with Beth on the front porch of their cottage. If they
were truly alone, none of it would matter. Not in a fantasy world.
If he could will them into another world, he would. Let Gore run
around the hills and plains, attacking otherworldly beasts instead of
strange men at nightclubs. Let him be a warrior assassin instead of a
demented serial killer.
What it must be like to be the inventor of these kinds of stories.
To be the writer of an epic fantasy.
It often dazzled him how authors were able to put fingers to a
keyboard and build a dimension or a faraway land that never existed
before their say-so. How could a man or a woman live in a regular
world like this one and go to work, meet up with friends, drive
around, shop at the mall, eat at restaurants, and perform all the other
mundane functions of this boring world and then retire to their
computer, flip a mental switch, and be in an entirely different
headspace?
So many worlds.
So many characters.
All within one person’s head.
Like Beth.
It occurred to Andrew that Beth wasn’t so different from these
world creators. She’d built her own characters. She’d built her own
home inside her head where each of her characters lived inside his
or her own room and only came out when it was their turn.
What if Beth could learn to harness that energy in a different
way? What if she was meant to be an author but lost sight of how to
control her characters?
Would the world’s authors all have dissociative identity disorder if
they couldn’t write? If they had no gift of the written word, would all
their multiple personalities be stuck inside their heads?
It was an interesting thought. Andrew wondered if Beth had ever
tried writing. Maybe she would be an outstanding author. Alexandra
and Peter would make a great coming-of-age novel. Ruby would
probably fit an erotica storyline. Gore would definitely be suspense
thriller and Father Dennis – horror.
As that thought came to mind, Andrew glanced over at the bed
and saw that Beth, Ruby, was gone. All that remained was the
crumpled up sheet and comforter. How could he have missed her
getting up? He hadn’t heard the bathroom door close. He hadn’t
heard the bedroom door open. She’d simply vanished.
Andrew dropped his book and booklight into his chair, climbed
onto the bed on all fours, and patted her empty spot with his hands,
like she might actually be there and his eyes were only playing tricks
on him.
She wasn’t there.
“Beth?” he called out.
“You were thinking of me,” came a deep, hoarse voice.
Hands grabbed hold of his hips and suddenly Andrew felt himself
being dragged from behind, lifted up into the air, and launched
against the wall. He smacked the hard surface with his back and slid
to his ass on the floor.
The dark, shadowy figure of Father Dennis reached down,
grabbed hold of Andrew’s shirt, and hoisted him up where he
slammed him against the wall.
Andrew was lifted higher than Beth’s body should have been able
to handle. Not only because of the strength it would take but
because she was too short for this. Yet, Father Dennis was tall, at
least 6’5”, and had driven Andrew so far up the wall his head was
nearly touching the ceiling.
“You should be ashamed,” Father Dennis barked.
“Beth,” Andrew squeaked out as Father Dennis’s hands wrapped
around his throat and squeezed.
Andrew wanted to kick out, but he didn’t want to hurt his wife’s
body. But the closer he looked through his watering eyes, the more
he became convinced this wasn’t his wife at all. He couldn’t see the
face of this thing clearly because of the wide hat the old man wore.
“Beth isn’t here right now,” Father Dennis said followed by a
wheezing chuckle.
“What… are… you?” Andrew managed.
“All your concerns. All your worries. All your nightmares. I am all
there is.”
“I don’t—” Andrew’s words were cut short. He couldn’t breathe.
He was blacking out.
“Ask her about the nun,” Father Dennis said. “She needs to
remember. They won’t let her. But she needs to remember. Ask Gore
about it. Let’s see how angry we can make him.”
“I—”
“Or next time I will snap your neck.”
Father Dennis spun him around and flung him against the far wall
like a ragdoll, knocking him out cold.
14
When Andrew came to, he was alone on his bedroom floor. His eyes
fluttered open slowly at first but then he remembered the assault
from the old priest and jerked fully awake. He slid his ass against the
carpet until his back was against the wall and threw his hands up to
guard his face in case another attack came.
How long have I been out? Where’s the old man?
“Beth!”
He kept his back against the wall where he could survey the
entire room without a sneak assault from the wicked old bastard.
Light shined into the room from the bathroom but only through
the wedged beam of the slightly ajar door. The bed was empty and
so was the rest of the room, but in the doorway stood a shadowy
figure.
Andrew knew that form and hoped this time it was Beth here with
him. As the figure walked into the room, all hope left Andrew’s body.
He could tell from the way the person walked with his arms out at his
sides, so full of strength and anger, that it was Gore.
Beth’s darker version came closer to him, squatted, and with his
face mostly hidden in the shadow of his hood, he reached out and
touched Andrew’s forehead.
“Gore,” Andrew said.
The beam of the bathroom light shined off the side of his face
and Andrew saw eyes he knew so well looking back at him, but they
didn’t contain the warmth he knew from his wife. This glare held a
coldness in it. Gore respected him, he suspected, but there was no
love there. Yet, the tender touch on his forehead was different. This
wasn’t like Gore at all, and for a second, he wondered if this dark
personality of hers cared about him. He seemed… worried.
As if he realized himself that he’d shown too much emotion, Gore
yanked his arm away, stood, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.
Then he turned and started for the bedroom door.
“Wait,” Andrew said.
Gore didn’t slow down.
“Please,” Andrew added. “Please, wait. Are you going out?”
Gore stopped and grunted his answer. He was going out, and
Andrew knew that meant he might be going on the hunt. His head
ached and he was still shaken up from his encounter with the priest,
but he couldn’t stand by and allow his wife to take any more lives,
whether the men deserved it or not.
“I want to go with you,” Andrew informed him.
Gore stopped, with his head down peering at his feet, and
grunted once more. Then, with a wave of his hand, in his deep,
throaty growl, he said, “Fine. Come on then.”
Andrew drove this time, with Gore giving silent directions. Most of
it was through finger pointing to the left and right with each
necessary turn. Sometimes, when Andrew asked a question, the
silent, brooding figure in the passenger seat answered with a shrug,
nod, or one of his grunts. Occasionally, he would say in a low
whisper, “Yes.”
It was so strange to him how his wife could have such a sweet
speaking voice and had the singing voice of an angel, but once she
packed herself into this hooded sweatshirt and jeans, she barely
made more than throaty growls. When she did speak, it seemed
almost painful for her.
“Turn here,” Gore commanded while shaking a finger wildly at the
right.
The turn was coming up fast and the light was green, so Andrew
changed lanes as quickly as he could, cutting off a car in the
process. It honked at him, and he held a hand up to wave as if the
driver would be able to see him through the darkness of the night
and the tinted windows.
He slowed down the best he could and turned right at the light.
“If you don’t want to call any attention to us,” Andrew said, “you
might want to give me more notice before a turn next time.”
Gore didn’t respond until two blocks down when he pointed at an
all-glass structure wedged between taller condominium buildings.
The sign out in front of the club was lit up bright white with purple
neon trim. It read: Platinum. That was all. One word.
Andrew was unfamiliar with the place but thought it looked like it
might be an overpriced strip club where the dancers would probably
prostitute themselves out but would insist they were escorts, not sex
workers.
“What are we doing here, Gore?” Andrew asked.
“You’ll see,” Gore replied.
Andrew wasn’t dumb enough to park in the business lot. There,
they would encounter bouncers, valet parkers, and anyone who’d
exited the building to get a breath of fresh air and drown it in
cigarette smoke. No, they needed to park somewhere they could
easily escape, and nobody would remember seeing their car.
His goal tonight was to stop Gore from hurting anyone, but if he
failed, he wanted them to be able to make a clean getaway.
Gore barely waited for the car to stop before he hopped out and
walked toward the club, leaving Andrew to hurry and follow. The
bouncer at the door barely paid them attention other than to hold out
his hand and accept the twenty-dollar cover charges which, of
course, Gore failed to mention beforehand leaving Andrew to fork
out a fifty to which he was informed he would not be getting change.
This message was delivered by way of the bouncer pointing at a sign
that read: $20 cover per person. Exact change only.
Inside, the crowd separated as the entry corridor branched off
into two hallways. A neon sign above the left showed a naked lady
on a stripper pole, swinging around it, with the pole between two
enormous tits. Gore pulled Andrew in that direction, ignoring the
other option which led to a hallway beneath an electric sign with a
naked man swinging his hefty dick around like a helicopter propeller.
Andrew was glad they’d veered left. With Gore, they could have
gone either way.
As they entered the club, Andrew noticed most of the men and
women patrons were dressed as if they’d come over straight from a
business meeting. In his polo and khakis and Gore’s jeans and
hoodie, they were way underdressed until a group of what appeared
to be college kids showed up. Now, Andrew felt like one of their
professors.
“You look like you could do bad things to a good girl,” a blonde
with her hair in a messy bun stepped in front of Gore and eyed him
up and down. She seemed to notice she was addressing a woman in
men’s clothes and then changed her tune. “Or maybe we can join
together and do bad things to your man.”
Andrew’s eyebrows shot up and he had to stifle his laugh. He’d
never considered having a threesome. He had his hands full with
Ruby and when his wife was playing the part of the seductress, he
was perfectly content.
Gore looked over at him as if wondering what he thought of the
woman’s proposal and for a second, Andrew thought this might be a
trick. He wondered if Beth was in there waiting on his answer,
checking to see what he thought of bringing another woman into
their bed.
“No,” Andrew said, finally finding his voice. “No thank you.”
“You look like you might change your mind,” the blonde said. She
turned her attention back to Gore and added, “Maybe you can talk
him into it. If not, if one of you wants a lap dance, I’ll be at the bar.
And if you want to buy a girl a drink…”
She didn’t finish but walked away.
“Seems she liked you,” Andrew said, giving Gore a nudge to his
ribs.
“We’re not here for her,” he said.
Andrew scanned the rest of the club and saw many other women
like the blonde, all dressed in skimpy clothing. At the center of the
club was a T-shaped stage, but it was empty. Instead, the dancers
walked around the main bar area and tried to solicit customers. He
wondered if Gore had gone to bed with any of these women during
his nightly rendezvous. Surely, he couldn’t be murdering someone
every time he went out.
When he was younger, Andrew went to quite a few strip clubs.
None were as nice as this one. Here, it seemed the women were
classier. Not so much in the way they spoke, as evident by the
blonde who’d approached them, but their style and overall look was
more refined. This wasn’t the kind of joint he’d visited in college.
“Come,” Gore told him as he made his way toward the back of
the club.
Andrew followed him until Gore sat down at a round table placed
to the side of the stage. Once they were seated across from each
other, Gore said, “Order us each a beer.” His eyes, Gore’s eyes,
were faintly illuminated by an overhead purple light and Andrew
found himself glued to his gaze.
Her gaze.
A glimmer of hope washed over him as he thought about the
woman seated across from him. He knew it wasn’t Beth, but for a
second, he chose to believe he was on a date with her. His heart
broke a little at the realization that he so rarely got the opportunity to
take her out for a night on the town. They didn’t often get the chance
to sit across from each other at a restaurant or go out to the movies
or rent a hotel for the night like most couples.
“Can I get you two something to drink?” a waitress asked, pulling
him out of his thoughts.
“Umm, yeah,” he said, his eyes still on Gore who was staring at a
group of people sitting on a wall-length couch on the other side of
the stage. “Two beers, please.”
“Two beers, got it, sweetie,” the waitress said and then
disappeared.
Andrew hadn’t even gotten a look at the woman. He’d been too
lost in his thoughts. In the sadness his marriage had brought him.
He’d been so in love with Beth. He still was. But this life was so
fucking difficult.
You won’t give up on her. You love her too much.
“Beth,” Andrew said, thinking there might be a chance that she’d
shove Gore out of the way and show up right now to share a drink
with him.
Gore whipped his head to the right and glared at him. “Don’t.”
Andrew nodded.
The waitress returned with the beers, set them down, and as she
was about to walk away, Gore grabbed her wrist, causing the woman
to stop and glare down at him. The bouncer standing next to a door
on the far wall noticed and stepped toward them.
Andrew’s heart skipped a beat.
“Got any coins left?” Gore asked.
The waitress smiled and held a hand up to stop the advancing
bouncer.
“You’re in luck,” she said. “We’re down to only four. I’ve got one
on me, but I can get another if you’re interested.”
“We are,” Gore said.
“Twenty each,” she said, “I’ll be right back.”
She walked away and Andrew leaned forward in his chair. “Are
you fucking crazy? That bouncer was about to come over here and
knock both our heads off.”
Gore scoffed. “He could have tried.”
“And what’s this about twenty each? She better not mean dollars.
I already lost fifty getting in this place. I don’t have another forty. I
