Page 36 of The Bones We Break
I’m in a state of ecstasy.
My imagination is running wild, conjuring up scenarios of me with the green eyed man. Scenes flick across my vision as I dip my fingers into my core, the sensitive skin comes alive under my touch and I arch my back, pushing my breasts into the cold air as the erotic feeling fires through my heavy limbs. Raw, detailed images flash behind my eyelids like an old film.The man is on his knees before me, begging and pleading for me to give him the release he desperately needs. The power and control I have over the situation is euphoric, mixing with the building tension in my lower belly as I circle my clit, turning it into a potent cocktail of yearning and lust. Slowly, I dip two fingers inside my pussy and cry out. Heavy, loud moans bounce around the room, reverberating off the walls, and I can feel my insides beginning to tighten around my fingers, my thumb continuing slow torturous circles around my clit.
I’m sending myself into a tailspin, my stomach flipping and spinning at a million miles an hour as white lights burst behind my eyelids, the oxygen sucked out of my lungs as my orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in its wake. My chest heaves, gasping for breath as I float back down to earth. The aftermath alone leaves me shaking and exhausted but I need to get ready for work, so that’s exactly what I do, closing the lid tightly on the visions I witnessed. Locking them away forever.
Whilst on my search for a place to live I came across a small clothing shop just outside of town. Since living out of a holdall bag I needed to buy new clothes so I could wash the ones I’ve been recycling, so after stopping at the quirky shop that was packed to the brim with eccentric clothing, flannel shirts, jeans and mountains of band and horror t-shirts I felt like I’d hit the jackpot once again. A place where my true character could shine, where no one could tell me not to wear something and that I’d look better inwhite. There wasn’t an inch of white in that little shop, it was refreshing. Plus, I know if I kept on wearing the tattered sweatpants everyday it wouldn’t be long before they fell to bits, which would then lead to me digging out the trousers and blouses I was forced to pack, immediately putting a target on my back for Ricky to see.
After I stumbled upon a local bar in town needing extra waiting staff, I applied on a whim. What else did I have to lose?
Shelly the owner looked at me like I was an alien from another planet, rocking up to the Dive bar in cream trousers and a silk blouse. I stood out like a sore thumb against the dark and gloomy interior, the floors sticky with a layer of beer. Even the permanent residents looked like they could eat me alive, but she gave me a chance after I pleaded my case with her. She gave me a hard stare instead of looking at me like I was an injured dog and I was grateful. The only thing she asked of me was to burn my blouses in a bonfire and yeah, I couldn’t agree more.
I’ve been at the Runaway Fox for two weeks, the name I felt was very fitting to my current situation. The hours were long but I needed to keep busy to stop my mind from wandering into dangerous waters and drowning in my heavy thoughts. The money was pretty good too so I can’t complain. It keeps me in this apartment and that’s what matters.
I slip my legs into the jeans I chose, pushing my feet into my boots and pull on a long sleeve Metallica t-shirt, the material soft against my tortured arms before running my fingers through my hair, the lengths now reaching the middle of my lower back. Grabbing the burner phone from the bed, slipping the switch-blade into my back pocket and my car keys in the small kitchen of my apartment, I flick off all the lights and set the alarm system, then close the door behind me, making sure to double check the lock before heading down the short hallway to the stairwell which leads to the main front door of the building. Pushing the heavy door open I’m met with a warm breeze, the sky still light, washes of pink and orange cover the clear sky in what looks like a watercolour painting. Even on the outskirts of town the small streets are busy with people enjoying the brighter nights.
Stepping onto the path a spike of anxiety washes over my skin, like needles pricking me all over, my gut telling me something isn’t right, like I’m not alone. I put my hand over the back pocket of my jeans, feeling the switch-blade inside as I spin around on the spot to scan my surroundings, noticing nothing out of the ordinary in the busy street. People stroll along the sidewalk, conversation jumps in and out of my hearing, and cars drive slowly down the road but nothing strange. I calm my erratic breathing and do a double take of the environment, convincing myself it’s just my mind on overdrive. Walking towards my car that’s parked on the sidewalk, I unlock the door and slide inside, immediately flicking the internal locks behind me. Starting the engine I do one last check around me, even looking in the backseat before pulling away from the curb and towards the main street into Rockford.
After the thirty minute drive I arrive outside of the Runaway Fox, the music already deafening, the sound vibrating throughout the car. I smile to myself, knowing the tips from tipsy customers will come flooding in tonight. The Runaway Fox has weekly weekend openings for live bands which really brings in the customers and by the sounds of it, one has already started. Checking the clock on the dash seeing I’m ten minutes early I use that time to calm myself, the uneasy feeling still rushing through me from before but I quickly convince myself it was nothing and exit the car.
Walking up to the double doors of the bar, the neon red lighting from the sign above it illuminates the gravel floor outside and the overwhelming collection of cigarette butts scattered on the ground. Pushing open the heavy door the instant stench of tobacco and sour beer hits me like a semi truck, my feet already sticking to the blue carpet. The heavy bass from the band that stands on the stage to the left of me throbs inmy chest, like a huge weight is constricting me. Moving further into the bar, a handful of wooden tables line the open space of the room, various patrons either standing or seated around them all.
Conversation weaves through the sound of the classic rock music that plays through the speakers. Across the room, there’s a massive bar lined on the right side, the regulars taking up their spaces at the wooden deck, sipping on their whiskey. The lighting is muted in here, random warm lights hang from the ceiling to provide some luminosity to the otherwise dark room. Every inch of the walls is covered in mismatched prints, newspaper clippings from the town in recent decades, portraits of rock legends and bottle caps. Character and charm oozes from every corner of the room and every time I come to work here, I begin to love it even more.
“Hey! You gonna’ start working or what?” My head snaps over to the bar, quickly zoning in on Freddy. A slim but muscular, blue eyed blonde haired, gay man who will shamelessly flirt with every man for a laugh, shouts over to me, a cheeky grin forming over his innocent face before waving me over. I slip through the crowd with ease and jump in behind the bar, empty beer bottles overspill in the bins underneath the wooden countertop. Freddy wraps an arm around my shoulder and brings me to his side, planting a wet kiss on the side of my hair, a laugh breaks from my lips and I pull away from his overbearing embrace.
“You know babe, If I wasn’t gay. I’d be looking to you for a date.” Freddy’s baby blues shine under the bar lights, his gloriously tanned skin beams against his overly tight white shirt.
“It’s a good thing you’re gay then isn’t it.” I shout over the music, a playful smile on my face. He fakes a shocked expression before sending me a flirtatious wink. I’ve onlyknown Freddy for two weeks but it almost feels like a lifetime. The moment I started to work here he took me under his wing, guiding me, answering any questions I had and never once asked what my story was. He just accepted that I was the new girl and he was going to look after me, he hasn’t failed me yet.
“Can you take over the bar like I showed you whilst I take these bottles out back?” His light voice breaks me from my trance.
“Are you sure? What if I fuck it up?” Slight nerves dance around my system at the thought of serving customers. Freddy has shown me a couple of times what to do and I’d like to think that I’m a pretty fast learner but still, this is all very new to me and I’d hate to fuck it up so quickly.
“Ana, my blackbird.” I smile at the pet name that Freddy has chosen for me. “You cannot and will not fuck this up, I swear. Besides, half of these people are already ninety percent alcohol anyway. Whatever drink you put in front of them, they’ll drink!” He belts out and I laugh at his words, he beams his signature smile at me before collecting the bins to take outside. “I won’t be long. You got this!” I nod at his faith in me and grab the small black apron that’s hung up on the wall and wrap it around my waist, tying the straps at the front, then take my place at the bar.
“Alright, who’s next?”
My back feels like it’s breaking and my arms are killing from picking up and moving mountains of glasses and bottles from the shelves to the bar and back again. Wetting my lips, I quickly fix myself a cold glass of water whilst the bar is relatively quiet, downing the liquid in rapid succession then rinsing the glass and placing it into the dishwasher with the rest of the used glasses. Freddy soon comes back in from outside, his cheeks flushed.
“Everything alright?” I ask him.
“Yeah, blackbird. Some idiot outside decided to cause some shit so I threatened him with a broken bottle, basically told him it would go up his ass if he didn’t leave.” My eyes widen at his threat and I often forget that he’s dealt with these people a lot longer than I have.
“How was the bar anyway? I see no one has complained about the drinks.” He winks. “I managed. I’ve just gotta take this tray over to the far table.” I tip my head and gesture to one of the smaller tables at the back. Two men, one in a flannel shirt and a cap, the other in a denim jacket sit with two bottles of beer between them. Freddy follows my gaze and smirks.
“What are you smiling at?” I say, quizzing him with my eyes.
“I wish I had that table, those two are in here every weekend. Let’s just say, I would let them take me to Paris, if you get what I mean.” He bites his plump pink lip and draws a little diagram on a napkin of the two men standing up, facing each other with another stick figure, who I assume is Freddy, bent over in between them both. Ultimately creating the shape of the Eiffel Tower. My face blanches at this erotic doodle and he bursts out into a full on belly laugh, the sound is infectious. I quickly swipe up the napkin and stash it into the front pocket of the apron, away from prying eyes.
“You’re a menace.” I say whilst grabbing the tray and making my way over to the table. All the while the porno drawing in my front pocket burns a hole through the fabric and my mind.
Balancing the black try on my hand I weave effortlessly through the busy floor, dodging swaying bodies left, right and centre. The music isn’t as loud over here, thankfully, my poor ears are ringing. Successfully, I make it over to the two guys sitting at the table and pick up the two bottles, then place themdown onto the sticky wooden table, an assortment of random stickers covering the surface.
“Here you-”
“Ana?” My words are immediately cut off. The deep forest green eyes I’ve been imagining stare right back at me, penetrating my soul, and I immediately feel every ounce of colour leave my face. Shuffling my heavy feet, I begin to back away, clutching the tray to my chest in an attempt to keep him back.
Dean is here. In this bar. Right in front of me. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see him again, but I now live in a small town. I realise how stupid that thought was.
