Written for my monthly short story writing group. Theme: Simultaneous.
Bar 49
“I’ll take a whiskey sour”
Smoke swirls around the bar, streaks of it catching in the light each time someone opens the door to come in. A painful reminder of the outside world to everyone. The bartender slowly leans toward me resting his crossed arms on the bar “You’re not from around here are you?”
“Detective Regino” I say, placing my badge on the bar.
“We have Shock Top,” the bartender slams a down a bottle “or Budlight” and another. Each bottle is coated with a fine mist of condensation much like the sweaty bartender across the bar from me.
“I’ll take a Shock Top” I put away my badge and pull out a photo “Have you seen this man?” I trade him the picture for the beer.
He looks down at the photo and his eyes lock on it for a while before he hands it back.
“Ya, I’ve seen him around here a few times”
“When was the last time?”
“He doesn’t come by often, maybe a few weeks ago.”
“Did you ever talk to him?”
“He was usually busy talking to someone else” He says gesturing towards the other end of the bar where a woman with long black hair and an empty bottle sat.
“I was hoping I could buy you a drink?” I sat on the stool next to her.
“Is that all you were hoping for?” she asked.
“Well I was hoping you could tell me the last time you saw this man” I put the photo down on the bar between us and gesture for another beer from the bartender.
“Jay? He’s a creep” she looks down at the photo with disdain.
“Well he’s missing and his last known whereabouts were here in Redwood” I take the photo back.
“Well I haven’t seen him in a week or so”
“Did he mention any plans? Places he was going, people he planned to see?”
“He’s known to hit up every bar on this road in his big ol’ Impala, so his next stop would probably be Lone Pine”
“Thanks” I place a few bills on the bar and turn to leave. On the way out I stop to notice a corkboard tacked with missing fliers of women with long dark hair.
Lone Pine
The sun is finally starting to set as I pull up to Lone Pine. This bar has a better selection and I finally get my whiskey sour. It also has better leads.
“Ya, ya I know Jayby”
“Jayby?”
“Ya, he’d always come in when he was sad,” she continues, sipping the lemon drop I bought her
“To drink his problems away?”
“Ya, and find some company” she tilts her head back, sipping the last drop from her drink “everyones lonely in here, it’s in the name.”
“Can you tell me more about the kind of company Jay kept?”
Instead of giving me an answer she gives me her empty glass.
While waiting for my drink I notice a familiar collage of flyers behind the bar. “What’s the story behind that?” I ask the bartender.
“You’re not from around here are you?” he responds.
“Fill me in”
“Girls go missing around here. Some of them are probably just runaways but recently one of them turned up underground, with nothing not with her but her shoes”
I stare at the collage of flyers. Some older and more worn than others.
I slide the cocktail down on the table and no sooner does she scoop it up, “Jay liked the ladies” she continues.
“So he was a ladies man?”
“I never said they liked him,” she laughs “He was a bit of a pest, when they’d get sick of him at one bar he’d move to the next.”
So like Jay, I get back in my car and continue down the road.
The Hitchin’ Post
It’s pitch black except for the occasional pair of blinding headlights. The only reminder that I’m not completely alone on this road. I’m heading to my last stop. The Hitchin’ Post. It looks like the kind of place that really couldn’t afford the ‘g’. It sat like a pile of wood more than it stood like a building. I don’t bother trying to order anything fancy here. “Whiskey, neat please” When the bartender turns around to make my order I notice a large patch sewn on the back of his jacket saying “I believe” with a white angel. The bartender slides the drink to me. “Believe in what?”
“What?” he asks, confused.
“Your jacket, the back, what do you believe in?” I ask again
“Oh this,” he says turning back around “the lady in white”
“Who’s the lady in white?”
“You’re not from around here are you?”
I sigh and remove the now bent and creased photo out of my jacket “Have you seen this man?”
Highway 49
I’ve driven miles down this long straight road, and yet I feel like I’m going in a continuous loop. Same questions with the same answers. Repeating over and over again.
There are no more headlights of other cars to keep me company. I imagine Jay driving down this road forever too. Just a few weeks ahead in time. He leaves little traces left behind but they’re no longer warm to the touch.
Suddenly a flash of white catches my eye and this time it’s not headlights. A woman walking ahead alongside the road barefoot in the middle of the night. Miles away from anywhere. I immediately pull over to the side of the road. I get out of the car but don’t see her anywhere. “Hello!?” I yell out but no one answers me back. I climb back into my car, fumbling around for a flashlight. I shine it up and down the road cloaked in heavy darkness but uncover no one.
I turn to the only place left, the woods lining the roadside. I slowly shine my flashlight along the tree line until the light catches a faint glint of something. I move closer, looking anxiously all around but never moving my light away from it. I push past brush and pull away branches until I uncover the trunk of a car. An old Impala. I try to open a door but they’re locked. So I cup my hands to the glass window and peer inside to see the inside littered with shoes.