"Hey, can I get you anything?" the waitress looked down and tapped her foot
impatiently.
Oz was sitting at one of the last tables in the furthest corner and it was the first piece of luck he could consider receiving in a long time. Counting one's blessings had become exceedingly difficult lately. "A bottle of Keith's."
She nodded and picked up a few more orders on her way to the bar. Oz watched her progress without much interest. He had been driving for days and this was where he had run out of gas. That was the sort of game he liked to play. Drive until the van dropped from lack of gas and work for a couple of weeks to finance the next batch of connecting highways. Usually the driving coincided with the need to clear his head of disturbing thoughts and nothing did the trick like rolling asphalt.
The waitress placed the beer on the table and Oz handed her the blue bill, which he had only recently stopped thinking of it as Monopoly money, and received his handful of change.
"Hey mister, you got a light?"
When the waitress turned away, he noticed the girl looking at him expectantly. Actually, she looked like she was the same age as him, dressed in black with minimal make-up, long black hair. Not the usual barfly fair. He nodded and produced the lighter from his pocket, handing it to her. She pulled the chair opposite to him out and sat down.
"Hey mister, you got a smoke?"
"I don't smoke," Oz said, shaking his head.
She smiled, "Neither do I but it's a bar and it seemed like a good enough opening to take your other seat. that is, unless you were holding it for someone?" When he didn't answer right away, she cut in. "You don't have to answer that one either. I knew that you weren't waiting for anyone. You've got that look and don't even glance at the door when it opens like you should if you were waiting for someone."
Oz did a quick glance around, slightly worried that some Initiative-like organization had actually caught up with him, no matter how improbable. "What do you want?" he whispered to her with an edge of a growl.
"Hey?! Don't worry, Sport, your honor is safe with me. I just want the seat." She gestured toward the other tables with a light flick of the wrist. "As you can see, all the other tables are full and this is the best seat in the house for seeing the stage. I just come to hear the band and then leave."
"Oh," he took a drink and looked down at his hands.
Sighing, she stood up and handed him his lighter back. "Look, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'll leave and you can be alone. I hope you enjoy the show."
Oz reached up and grabbed her hand instead of just the lighter. "Stay," he was looking at her face for the first time for more than two seconds. She looked like someone he should know but her skin was too pale to be from Southern California. The straight long black hair that fell to her back didn't seem to fit either.
She cocked an eyebrow and said in a teasing voice, "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on some major brooding time. I know how important it can be to some guys." He just shrugged his shoulder in answer as she sat back down and extracted her hand from his. Signaling to the waitress, she ordered the same drink Oz had.
Oz was looking at his beer, not knowing what to say to the person sitting across from himself. He sneaked a peak and she was staring intently at the guys on the stage as they were putting the finishing touches on their equipment. She looked back from the stage almost wistfully and caught his eye. "The name is Neria. What's yours?"
"Oz."
"Like the wizard?" He looked up and opened his mouth to explain but noticed the mocking glint in Neria's eyes.
"Yeah, Frank and I go way back."
Neria smirked, liking his willingness to play along. "The next time I see the Baum-man, I'll check to see if he remembers you." She cocked her head, taking in his appearance. "You just passin' through?"
Oz just shrugged his shoulders, not really wanting to get into it. He had had this conversation way too many times. Each time, you either told them something slightly fictional or was just plain rude. He felt too tired to do either so decided to change the subject all together. "What do you do?"
"I work for Satan. The hours are terrible but the benefits package is phenomenal." She said as the band had finally decided that they would be as ready as they were ever going to be. Neria leaned over and the music began to play, "Keep your eye on the guitarist, he's really good."
Oz watched the band put everything they had into each song, admittedly not their own songs, but the crowd was really appreciative. The whole scene reminded him of the Bronze, down to the college/high school crowd and the slight stench of vomit. Devon was the only person from Sunnydale that seemed to comprehend he still existed. Now and then, Devon would email and would routinely finish every letter with the question on when he was going to come back home. Oz never answered that one but would send whatever new song he wrote to keep in Devon's good graces.
Neria was staring intently at the stage and lightly drumming along with the music. She had a ring on her left hand and it reflected a small ray of light Oz couldn't guess its origin since the bar was so dark. It was a solid gold band with a symbol of some sort, something he knew he had seen before. But her hand kept drumming up and down and he couldn't get a fix on the engraving and now it seemed to be moving faster. Oz wanted to look away but it seemed important to figure out what was on the ring. He was so focused on the little piece of gold, the music, the people, had turned into flecks of white noise, buzzing in the background. He tried to reach a hand to stop the ring from moving but he was paralyzed, watching it zoom back and forth in front of his eyes.
"Oz? Oz!" Neria snapped her fingers in front of his face a couple of times.
"Wh-what?" Oz said, snapping his eyes open, feeling disoriented.
"You okay?" Neria asked with a concerned look on her face. "You were really out of it for a minute there."
"Yeah, okay." Oz mumbled looking around. The bar was still dark but the band had stopped playing. "Show over?"
"Intermission. So what do you think of them? They seem really jazzed tonight." She asked conversationally, dismissing his spaced out moment.
"Good. The crowd seems to be in the column of 'like'."
"Yeah, Good Night Eileen is a local favorite. They've only been together for about a year but I try not to miss a show. The lead singer is a buddy from work."
"You both work for Satan?" Oz said with the raise of an eyebrow.
"Well, he's in management so singing the 'Devil's music' helps to keep his edge."
Oz only nodded in response, smiling politely. "You don't believe, do you?" Neria said, challenging him. "Do you want me to prove it?"
Oz's only response was a shrug. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a deck of cards. "You always carry cards there?" Oz asked.
"Hey, you never know when they are going to come in handy." Neria replied with a quick smile, handing him the deck after she and given it a quick shuffle. "Please examine the cards so that you know that this isn't a trick deck."
"Looks fine." He said after a rapid scan through the deck, noting that all the suits seemed to be equally represented. He handed them back and she placed them on the table in front of him.
"Cut the deck in two. What's the card?" Oz looked and showed Neria, "The ace of spades, cool. Place that deck beside the other one and cut the deck again. What's the card?"
"The. ace of spades." Oz said slowly, trying to figure out the trick.
"Do it again."
Oz repeated the same steps again, and again, and still the top card he cut was always the ace of spades. "I would have noticed six ace of spades in that deck. I don't get it."
Neria held up a finger and placed all six piles into one deck of cards again. She quickly shuffled and fanned the cards out in front of Oz.. All fifty-two cards were now jokers, not an ace of spades to be seen. Neria smiled and gave a little chuckle at the look on his face.
"What does this prove exactly?"
"Besides the fact that I love parlor tricks? Not much, but -" she paused as some empty bottles on a nearby table tumbled off and broke with a loud crash when they hit the floor. "Do you mind if we go someplace more quiet so I can do this right?"
"Do wha--?" The bar, the patrons, the music, instantly faded into nothingness and they were surrounded by a big, black void. The table was still between them and the same seats were under them but it was as if the rest of the world fell away. "How?"
Neria gave him a reassuring look, and said in her most assuring voice, "Don't worry, it's all still there. We just have to focus on the topic at hand. All that noise, people, it makes it difficult for me to get into my sales pitch. You see, I want to buy your soul. What do you think about that?"
"I think I'm putting a stop to this here and now." Oz quickly stood up and started walking into the void hopefully in the direction of the door. He didn't get too far when the floor ceased to exist below his feet and he instantly started to fall into the inky black nothingness. Oz screamed as he was free falling without a parachute. He didn't know which direction was up and without a visual reference, he couldn't tell how fast he was falling. His only indication was the wind whipping around his body. The back of his mind was quickly calculating the distance he had fallen in relation to the length of time he had been in free fall.
Oz felt a jolt and opened his eyes to find himself back into the chair across from Neria, grasping for breath and hands firmly attached to the table in front of him.
"It's okay, you can thank me later. I really should have warned you about the drop off there."
"But you said-"
"The bar is still there, I just didn't tell you where we are." She folded her hands in front of her and looked serenely at home. Neria was about to go on when an errant thought came to mind. "And no, this isn't the Matrix. Just because a movie makes over hundred million at the box office, doesn't make it gospel."
"What about Star Wars?"
She leaned forward, "I'll give you episode four and five but don't get me started on the others." Neria slowly leaned back, looking at him slyly. "You are trying to distract me and interesting choice, I could talk about movies all night. But intermission can only last so long. So what will it be? Money, fame, a shiny new car? I've got deadlines to meet."
Oz seemed to take the whole experience in stride, his breath evening out. This place was starting to feel a little like Sunnydale except with a lot more snow. A small voice in the back of his head chanted a calming mantra, 'I've dealt with weirder. I've dealt with weirder. I've dealt with weirder.'
"I'm just a quota to you, aren't I?"
"What are you talking about, baby? All my customers are special to me." Neria put her best car salesman pitch in her voice.
He didn't answer, hoping she would quickly get bored and start hassling someone else.
She giggled at his stoic face, knowing this guy would be a tough nut to crack. "Listen, I'm just good at spotting people who are looking for something and I can get you that something."
Neria tilted her head to one side trying to read what that was. "I feel that you're an artist. Poet or perhaps writer. I can get your books published or that record deal you have always wanted. Perhaps the ability to play like Hendrix, loved like Elvis. Am I close?"
"Those are all nice, if not disturbing, options but I'm not selling you my soul."
"Oh, Oz, just think of all the good you can do if you were a millionaire. Help the needy, toys for tots, humanization training for yuppies. You name it, you could do it." Neria watched as he continued to shake his head in disagreement and she smiled her most achingly innocent smile.
She knew what he wanted long before she snagged the chair from his table or even walked into the bar. It was the only constant thing that had been on his mind while he was sitting across from her and every mile of his cross- country trek. That thing was a little red headed girl named Willow Rosenberg.
And before this night was through, Neria would bring those two together. It never helped a girl's cause to act too eager.
"Oh, oh, I know! Dirt bike racing! You could be killer on the motor-cross circuit." She still didn't receive any verbal response. "Horticulture?"
End of Part One
Oz was sitting at one of the last tables in the furthest corner and it was the first piece of luck he could consider receiving in a long time. Counting one's blessings had become exceedingly difficult lately. "A bottle of Keith's."
She nodded and picked up a few more orders on her way to the bar. Oz watched her progress without much interest. He had been driving for days and this was where he had run out of gas. That was the sort of game he liked to play. Drive until the van dropped from lack of gas and work for a couple of weeks to finance the next batch of connecting highways. Usually the driving coincided with the need to clear his head of disturbing thoughts and nothing did the trick like rolling asphalt.
The waitress placed the beer on the table and Oz handed her the blue bill, which he had only recently stopped thinking of it as Monopoly money, and received his handful of change.
"Hey mister, you got a light?"
When the waitress turned away, he noticed the girl looking at him expectantly. Actually, she looked like she was the same age as him, dressed in black with minimal make-up, long black hair. Not the usual barfly fair. He nodded and produced the lighter from his pocket, handing it to her. She pulled the chair opposite to him out and sat down.
"Hey mister, you got a smoke?"
"I don't smoke," Oz said, shaking his head.
She smiled, "Neither do I but it's a bar and it seemed like a good enough opening to take your other seat. that is, unless you were holding it for someone?" When he didn't answer right away, she cut in. "You don't have to answer that one either. I knew that you weren't waiting for anyone. You've got that look and don't even glance at the door when it opens like you should if you were waiting for someone."
Oz did a quick glance around, slightly worried that some Initiative-like organization had actually caught up with him, no matter how improbable. "What do you want?" he whispered to her with an edge of a growl.
"Hey?! Don't worry, Sport, your honor is safe with me. I just want the seat." She gestured toward the other tables with a light flick of the wrist. "As you can see, all the other tables are full and this is the best seat in the house for seeing the stage. I just come to hear the band and then leave."
"Oh," he took a drink and looked down at his hands.
Sighing, she stood up and handed him his lighter back. "Look, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'll leave and you can be alone. I hope you enjoy the show."
Oz reached up and grabbed her hand instead of just the lighter. "Stay," he was looking at her face for the first time for more than two seconds. She looked like someone he should know but her skin was too pale to be from Southern California. The straight long black hair that fell to her back didn't seem to fit either.
She cocked an eyebrow and said in a teasing voice, "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on some major brooding time. I know how important it can be to some guys." He just shrugged his shoulder in answer as she sat back down and extracted her hand from his. Signaling to the waitress, she ordered the same drink Oz had.
Oz was looking at his beer, not knowing what to say to the person sitting across from himself. He sneaked a peak and she was staring intently at the guys on the stage as they were putting the finishing touches on their equipment. She looked back from the stage almost wistfully and caught his eye. "The name is Neria. What's yours?"
"Oz."
"Like the wizard?" He looked up and opened his mouth to explain but noticed the mocking glint in Neria's eyes.
"Yeah, Frank and I go way back."
Neria smirked, liking his willingness to play along. "The next time I see the Baum-man, I'll check to see if he remembers you." She cocked her head, taking in his appearance. "You just passin' through?"
Oz just shrugged his shoulders, not really wanting to get into it. He had had this conversation way too many times. Each time, you either told them something slightly fictional or was just plain rude. He felt too tired to do either so decided to change the subject all together. "What do you do?"
"I work for Satan. The hours are terrible but the benefits package is phenomenal." She said as the band had finally decided that they would be as ready as they were ever going to be. Neria leaned over and the music began to play, "Keep your eye on the guitarist, he's really good."
Oz watched the band put everything they had into each song, admittedly not their own songs, but the crowd was really appreciative. The whole scene reminded him of the Bronze, down to the college/high school crowd and the slight stench of vomit. Devon was the only person from Sunnydale that seemed to comprehend he still existed. Now and then, Devon would email and would routinely finish every letter with the question on when he was going to come back home. Oz never answered that one but would send whatever new song he wrote to keep in Devon's good graces.
Neria was staring intently at the stage and lightly drumming along with the music. She had a ring on her left hand and it reflected a small ray of light Oz couldn't guess its origin since the bar was so dark. It was a solid gold band with a symbol of some sort, something he knew he had seen before. But her hand kept drumming up and down and he couldn't get a fix on the engraving and now it seemed to be moving faster. Oz wanted to look away but it seemed important to figure out what was on the ring. He was so focused on the little piece of gold, the music, the people, had turned into flecks of white noise, buzzing in the background. He tried to reach a hand to stop the ring from moving but he was paralyzed, watching it zoom back and forth in front of his eyes.
"Oz? Oz!" Neria snapped her fingers in front of his face a couple of times.
"Wh-what?" Oz said, snapping his eyes open, feeling disoriented.
"You okay?" Neria asked with a concerned look on her face. "You were really out of it for a minute there."
"Yeah, okay." Oz mumbled looking around. The bar was still dark but the band had stopped playing. "Show over?"
"Intermission. So what do you think of them? They seem really jazzed tonight." She asked conversationally, dismissing his spaced out moment.
"Good. The crowd seems to be in the column of 'like'."
"Yeah, Good Night Eileen is a local favorite. They've only been together for about a year but I try not to miss a show. The lead singer is a buddy from work."
"You both work for Satan?" Oz said with the raise of an eyebrow.
"Well, he's in management so singing the 'Devil's music' helps to keep his edge."
Oz only nodded in response, smiling politely. "You don't believe, do you?" Neria said, challenging him. "Do you want me to prove it?"
Oz's only response was a shrug. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a deck of cards. "You always carry cards there?" Oz asked.
"Hey, you never know when they are going to come in handy." Neria replied with a quick smile, handing him the deck after she and given it a quick shuffle. "Please examine the cards so that you know that this isn't a trick deck."
"Looks fine." He said after a rapid scan through the deck, noting that all the suits seemed to be equally represented. He handed them back and she placed them on the table in front of him.
"Cut the deck in two. What's the card?" Oz looked and showed Neria, "The ace of spades, cool. Place that deck beside the other one and cut the deck again. What's the card?"
"The. ace of spades." Oz said slowly, trying to figure out the trick.
"Do it again."
Oz repeated the same steps again, and again, and still the top card he cut was always the ace of spades. "I would have noticed six ace of spades in that deck. I don't get it."
Neria held up a finger and placed all six piles into one deck of cards again. She quickly shuffled and fanned the cards out in front of Oz.. All fifty-two cards were now jokers, not an ace of spades to be seen. Neria smiled and gave a little chuckle at the look on his face.
"What does this prove exactly?"
"Besides the fact that I love parlor tricks? Not much, but -" she paused as some empty bottles on a nearby table tumbled off and broke with a loud crash when they hit the floor. "Do you mind if we go someplace more quiet so I can do this right?"
"Do wha--?" The bar, the patrons, the music, instantly faded into nothingness and they were surrounded by a big, black void. The table was still between them and the same seats were under them but it was as if the rest of the world fell away. "How?"
Neria gave him a reassuring look, and said in her most assuring voice, "Don't worry, it's all still there. We just have to focus on the topic at hand. All that noise, people, it makes it difficult for me to get into my sales pitch. You see, I want to buy your soul. What do you think about that?"
"I think I'm putting a stop to this here and now." Oz quickly stood up and started walking into the void hopefully in the direction of the door. He didn't get too far when the floor ceased to exist below his feet and he instantly started to fall into the inky black nothingness. Oz screamed as he was free falling without a parachute. He didn't know which direction was up and without a visual reference, he couldn't tell how fast he was falling. His only indication was the wind whipping around his body. The back of his mind was quickly calculating the distance he had fallen in relation to the length of time he had been in free fall.
Oz felt a jolt and opened his eyes to find himself back into the chair across from Neria, grasping for breath and hands firmly attached to the table in front of him.
"It's okay, you can thank me later. I really should have warned you about the drop off there."
"But you said-"
"The bar is still there, I just didn't tell you where we are." She folded her hands in front of her and looked serenely at home. Neria was about to go on when an errant thought came to mind. "And no, this isn't the Matrix. Just because a movie makes over hundred million at the box office, doesn't make it gospel."
"What about Star Wars?"
She leaned forward, "I'll give you episode four and five but don't get me started on the others." Neria slowly leaned back, looking at him slyly. "You are trying to distract me and interesting choice, I could talk about movies all night. But intermission can only last so long. So what will it be? Money, fame, a shiny new car? I've got deadlines to meet."
Oz seemed to take the whole experience in stride, his breath evening out. This place was starting to feel a little like Sunnydale except with a lot more snow. A small voice in the back of his head chanted a calming mantra, 'I've dealt with weirder. I've dealt with weirder. I've dealt with weirder.'
"I'm just a quota to you, aren't I?"
"What are you talking about, baby? All my customers are special to me." Neria put her best car salesman pitch in her voice.
He didn't answer, hoping she would quickly get bored and start hassling someone else.
She giggled at his stoic face, knowing this guy would be a tough nut to crack. "Listen, I'm just good at spotting people who are looking for something and I can get you that something."
Neria tilted her head to one side trying to read what that was. "I feel that you're an artist. Poet or perhaps writer. I can get your books published or that record deal you have always wanted. Perhaps the ability to play like Hendrix, loved like Elvis. Am I close?"
"Those are all nice, if not disturbing, options but I'm not selling you my soul."
"Oh, Oz, just think of all the good you can do if you were a millionaire. Help the needy, toys for tots, humanization training for yuppies. You name it, you could do it." Neria watched as he continued to shake his head in disagreement and she smiled her most achingly innocent smile.
She knew what he wanted long before she snagged the chair from his table or even walked into the bar. It was the only constant thing that had been on his mind while he was sitting across from her and every mile of his cross- country trek. That thing was a little red headed girl named Willow Rosenberg.
And before this night was through, Neria would bring those two together. It never helped a girl's cause to act too eager.
"Oh, oh, I know! Dirt bike racing! You could be killer on the motor-cross circuit." She still didn't receive any verbal response. "Horticulture?"
End of Part One