And now, to the bar. Appropriate that I ended up there so quickly, really.
I don't own Skins, but I'd gladly buy it a drink.
Chapter 2 – The Bar (a.k.a. fun with musical fic refs)
Emily
"Holy shit, who is that?" I think to myself.
It's 11 p.m., and we are at the base "bar", or what passes for it. That was Effy's grand scheme for the night - introduce me to the "local nightlife", such as it is. The bar is really just an old Quonset hut hanger with a few salvaged tables and chairs, some low watt overhead lights with scattered bits of fabric and gel to give some colour, and a beat up sound system that looks like it is being run through a re-built computer of some kind. Looks like the generators are working alright here. Nice change, that, for me. The bar itself has a bizarre collection of booze – basically whatever has turned up during supply recon missions, I'm guessing. On the up-side, I can see vodka, beer and tequila, so I'm set at least for tonight. Effy has appointed herself my escort for the night. I think she is afraid I'll get irretrievably lost if left to my own devices. She's not necessarily wrong about that. I still can't figure this bloody place out.
We barely make it inside the bar door when I see a flash of ash blond hair go by, and when I look over, I find myself caught up in the bluest eyes I have ever seen - ice blue and blazing at the same time. Seriously, that colour should not be legal, especially when attached to that face, that body and those legs. She looks away without even seeming to notice me, but I sure noticed her. She is gorgeous - tall, thin and obviously very drunk. But even with that, and with no make-up, wearing torn fatigues, boots and a simple green t-shirt, she is beautiful. I'm pretty sure my jaw literally dropped for a minute while I stared at her, heart racing, probably tongue sticking out knowing me. Yeah, superficial, I know, but I'm only human. Effy noticed, of course. I can already tell that Effy doesn't miss much.
"You want to be careful with that one," Effy speaks into my ear so I can hear her over the pounding bass.
"Why? Who is she?" I yell back.
"Naomi Campbell, our team lead. Your team lead now, too."
Well that's interesting. I've heard about her, of course. Everyone has. She's a legend. Her team used to do all the really risky behind the lines work. She's a sniper, an incredible shot - one of the best there is, militia or regular forces from what I heard. Her team got hit hard at some point, if I remember right, but I don't think I ever knew the details.
"So why be careful?" I ask, never taking my eyes off the blond. The last thing in the world I want to be with that woman is careful. Oh no, I want to be reckless: flat out, tear her clothes off and fuck her through the wall type reckless. Effy looks over at me for a moment and then looks away again and says, "It's complicated. She's complicated."
Before I have a chance to follow that up with another question a loud voice rings out, "Let's go fucking mental!" It's the guy sitting next to Naomi.
"That's Cook," Effy says in my ear, "he's on the team, too. The only one not here is JJ. He's not much for crowds any more." Cook is fairly tall, well built, with shaggy brown hair. He looks like he is a few rounds ahead of the rest of us, even giving Naomi a run for her money. Katie is giving him a good look anyway, though. Yes, she is here, too. She came to dinner with Effy and me, regaled us with stories of her afternoon and the members of her new team, and then invited herself along as soon as she heard that we were coming here tonight. Not one to miss out on a potential piss up, our Katie.
It was something to behold when Katie and Effy met. You could almost see the sparks fly between them. They were like cats circling each other, claws half out just in case. Katie likes to think of herself as the hottest babe around, and I admit that she often is. But even she had to agree that Effy is a stunner. It was funny to watch them check each other out – Katie who never shuts up and Effy who almost never speaks. They seem to have reached a truce of sorts, at least for now. It helps that Katie is focused on checking out the available talent at the bar instead of on trying to out alpha-dog Effy.
Effy has just appeared back at our table with another round of tequila, three shots each. I was so focused on Naomi that I hadn't even noticed her leave. As I reach for a shot I see the guy, Cook, walk up to a microphone that is set up on a small raised stage of sorts. "Alright, ladies and gents, the wait is over. It's Karaoke time!"
A loud roar of approval goes up. Karaoke? Really? I look over at Effy and she just smirks. Obviously, this is not a surprise to her. It seems pretty crazy to me to be doing that in the middle of what is basically a war zone, but I guess you have to take your mental health breaks where and when you can. It's not like there are a lot of options for letting loose any more. From the steady stream of wankers signing up to take a turn this seems to be a fairly regular event here.
First up is a woman singing "You Give Me Fever." "She's good." Effy says. I agree. She's different, but really good. The sound system is pretty crap, unfortunately, but it is good enough for karaoke, I suppose.
"Oooo. He's well fit!" That's Katie, staring at a good looking guy by the bar. "What happened to Thomas?" I say, nudging her with my shoulder. "Girlfriend. Panda or something odd like that. Excitable and kinda strange. Weird dress sense. She's a decoder. I work with her, too." I can tell that she is disappointed. I think she may have really liked Thomas. "I'm sorry, Katie. That's too bad." Katie just looks at me for a second, as if she is trying to figure out if I'm taking the piss. "Yeah" she says finally. "He was sweet." I see a flash of something cross her eyes, but I can't quite read what it means. That's a really odd feeling for me. We used to be so close, Katie and I. But we have both grown up a lot over the past years, and as part of that, we have grown apart, a lot more than I would like.
Someone's butchering "Piano Man" now. It's so bad it is almost funny. That song is a secret guilty pleasure of mine, although I would never willingly admit it.
"Right. Enough of this. Time to make some new friends." There's my Katie back. She has a glimmer in her eye, and she's locked on target. It's nice to see her smile again. She's had a harder time than me adjusting to everything that has changed in our lives, and I know she misses Mom and Dad, even James. For all her brashness and bluster, she has a soft heart, my sister.
Oh fuck me blue, now it's Céline Dion. I mean seriously, why would someone do that? Jesus, even the original was bad, but this is just excruciating. I turn away from the stage and once again my eyes catch on Naomi. I can't seem to stop watching her. She's tossing back shots like they are water, and getting more obviously drunk by the minute. She has spent most of the night talking with Cook whenever he wasn't playing MC. It seems like he is trying to cheer her up, but he's not having much success.
I check out the track list. I don't sing much, but I can carry a tune if I have to. Maybe "At Last"? I love Etta James. On the other hand, I am not really drunk enough, and maybe my first night on base isn't the best time to embarrass myself quite so completely. My decision not to sing is confirmed when the next guy gets up. He kicks into "99 Problems", and oh my sweet fuck is he good! No way am I going to try to follow him. I fucking love this song, too. I can barely keep still in my chair, especially when I notice the two very good looking women who are dirty dancing just to the left of the stage. Totally hot. They almost look like they should be flying. I sit back and revel in the music and the dancing for as long as it lasts. I'm pretty sure the dirty grin on my face shows exactly what I have been thinking as I watched that little display. Like I said, only human!
Just then I see Naomi stand up, leaning on her table for support. "Uh oh. Shit, here we go," I hear Effy mutter.
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see. He won't be able to stop her tonight." Cryptic much, Effy?
Next thing I know, Naomi is up on the stage. Cook is trying to get her to sit back down, but she won't do it. She just keeps saying, "Play it Cook". Finally, she gets pissed off and walks over and starts the music herself. She weaves her way back to the mic and starts to sing.
You took my hand
You showed me how
You promised me you'd be around
I damn near fall off my chair. Her voice is really good, a bit raspy, but rich, like the sound of whiskey and cigarettes. And those eyes. Sweet merciful fuck, those eyes. I feel every inch of my 5' 2" frame shudder, and it has nothing to do with the temperature. It has to do with the pain that just radiates from her eyes. Naomi takes a long pull on a bottle of beer she's grabbed from somewhere. She stumbles a little bit, but uses the mic stand to balance herself. Jesus, it's amazing that she can stand up at all.
I wish I could touch you again
I wish I could still call you friend
I'd give anything
Her voice breaks then, and she doesn't get out the next few lines. I have stopped breathing, holding it in to help urge her on. She takes another swig of beer and wipes her arm across her eyes. Then she throws her head back and really starts to belt it out. Everything else has fallen away. The only thing I am aware of is her, and her voice. I lean forward, trying by sheer force of will to help her get through the song. What the hell is this? Five minutes ago all I wanted to do was fuck her senseless, and now… now every fibre of my being just wants to go throw my arms around her and hold her tight, to help keep the demons at bay, to try to make her feel better even just for a moment.
That last kiss, I'll cherish
Until we meet again
And time makes
It harder
I wish I could remember
But I keep
Your memory
You visit me in my sleep
The song isn't quite over, but Naomi walks from the stage, losing her balance a bit on the way. Cook tries to give her a hand, but she just shoves him away. He stands there watching as she goes, before starting to follow her at a distance. She is holding the wall so that she can stay on her feet, tears streaming down her face unchecked as she walks out of the bar.
The bar is almost silent. You can feel the empathy in the room. Everyone here has something to be sad about, to mourn for, since the Crash. But there's something about how Naomi sang that song that tells me her story is different. She's different. And I want to know more. I want to know it all.
I turn to Effy and ask, "Will she be alright?" Effy is still looking at the door, even though Naomi is long out of view. It takes her a second, but eventually she answers. "Cook will stay with her tonight. I'll see you tomorrow. Breakfast at 9, briefing at 10." And then she heads out of the bar herself.
It's not until I'm looking for Katie a few minutes later to let her know that I'm heading back to my room that I realize that Effy didn't actually answer my question.
X X X
Yes, I know, I made Naomi sing. But this was one of the three scenes that popped into my head and wouldn't let me go, so I really had no choice.
For those who are wondering: You Give Me Fever, esdiferente, The Avalanche Has Already Started; Piano Man, unknownstuntman, Tales from the Firehouse; Céline Dion, Miss Marauder, Manifolds; At Last, BlueEyedFrog, Some People Have Real Problems; and last, but definitely not least, 99 Problems, HyperFitched, I Hold a Force I Can't Contain and 99 Problems.
These writers have given me more enjoyment over the past year through their writing than I can possibly express. This little wink to them is my way of saying thanks.
It will be a week or so before I can update again, but I'll be back. In the meantime, if you feel inclined, drop a review. All constuctive comments very gratefully received.