I would like to take a moment to thank all the individuals who have read and reviewed my humble story thus far. When I started writing this I was not sure what sort of following or feedback I would receive. Having never written a story before, I had no idea going in what this experience would be like.

What a joy to have written something that many have seemed to enjoy. It has certainly been a lot of fun for me.

Now, without further ado. Chapter 10...

Chapter Ten: Eyes

"Christine, I was ten seconds away from sending out an expedition party out searching for you. Please tell me you found that Vodka, those terribly privileged men have been to the bar twice looking for it." Arthur was typically jovial, but it was obvious now he was perturbed. "One more exchange with them and I will certainly scream."

"I'm sorry, I think I've just had a spiritual experience." Christine relinquished the glass bottle of clear liquor to the antsy bartender. "Have you ever had one?"

"Yes, his name was Theodore." Arthur fluidly opened the bottle, the label written in a language Christine could not understand. The liquid was hastily poured into a Boston shaker with ice. Arthur began fervently shaking it with a slight scowl on his face. "Did you hit your head? Seriously, Christine, the Vodka was right there on the second shelf. What took you so long?"

She watched as he poured the contents of the shaker into four perfectly chilled martini glasses and sighed. "Erik. He graced me with yet another mysterious appearance."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the news. "And you had a 'spiritual experience'?"

"Oh, don't be crass!" She fought a smile and made a quick dismissive wave. Then leaned in with bright, giddy eyes and half-whispered conspiratorially over the loud music. "He wants to give me singing lessons."

Arthur's gaze flew from the olive he was about to skewer and landed straight on Christine. "Singing lessons? Is that what the folks are calling it these days?"

"Oh Arthur, your mind is in the sewer." She playfully shot back as she gingerly collected the completed martinis onto a tray for delivery.

"Very well." He shrugged. "Whether it's singing lessons or the matrimonial polka, I suppose I cannot reprimand you. He's the one who pays me, and you are practically my sister now, but don't think for a second this third degree is over."

Her smile in response beaming as she turned towards a rowdy table of foxed gentleman to deliver their long-awaited drinks.

The men dressed in their finery were not acting as gentleman. Two were engaged in a very incoherent argument over stocks while the other two leered at her like predators as she set their ordered cocktails upon the liquor speckled table. A woman sat beside one of the men engaged in argument, she had a vacant, empty look of a woman trapped. Christine noticed a wedding band on her finger with a large diamond affixed, clearly married to the gentleman next to her.

Christine carefully placed the final martini before the last man, careful not to allow the precarious stemware to tip and splash over the side. As she began to retract her hand the older man before the beverage grabbed her delicate wrist in a painful grip. He was a built man, with greying hair and an alcohol reddened face.

"Aren't you a pretty thing?" He crooned. He reached up and gripped her chin with rough fingers. Christine could smell the residuals of cigar tobacco on his fingers. "How would you like to spend the rest of the evening with a real gentleman, sweetheart?"

Disgusted, Christine turned her face away and attempted to step away, but his grip on her arm became more forceful, holding her in place.

"So flighty." One of the other men commented in vicious joviality. The group laughed, all but the hollow woman sitting at the table. Her resigned eyes met Christine apologetically.

He had such a vice grip Christine could feel the blood leaving her hand. His expression was cruel, the expression of a man who revels in being the bully to those smaller than him.

The man's eyes grew large with surprise and he turned his head to the man sitting next to him. "What did you just say?"

His friend just shook his head and shrugged as though perplexed by the question. Her tormenter's eyes grew large again, a haunted expression in them and his grip loosened. Christine used the opportunity to wrest her hand away.

The man looked at her with terrified eyes and shakily whispered. "I am terribly sorry. Perhaps I have had too much to drink."

Just then, Keenan, the muscle appeared by Christine's side and asked the table to kindly leave the premise. He sternly looked at the man who had just had the strangest change of heart.

"For your safety I would advise you not to return again. One of the owners has taken issue with your behavior."

The table stumbled to their feet, some of the men seemed indignant, some seemed embarrassed. Christine did not miss the eyes of the man who had just been permanently banned. He seemed relieved to go, as though he had just seen a ghost and was eager to flee.

Keenan insured they had exited the building before turning to Christine. "Are you alright, Christine?" He placed a strong hand on her shoulder in comfort. "I should have been here sooner; I apologize for my delay."

She shook her head. "I'm merely startled. The whole event was surreal."

"He won't be back. The owners won't allow it now." He patted her shoulder. "You're safe here, there's probably no place safer."

She gave him a weak smile. "I appreciate it Keenan. Thank you for intervening on my behalf."

He gave her a nod and returned to his post by the door. Taking a deep breath to return her back to the present, Christine gathered the mostly unconsumed beverages onto her tray and wiped the table with the dry cloth in her apron.

Arthur looked worried when she returned to the bar. He reached forward and took her hand, rolling up the sleeve as though expecting a large red handprint but it was unmarked. "Geez, Christine. That brute ought to be taken out to a field and shot. There's no place in this world for beasts like him."

Nadir appeared from the hallway leading to the stock room and approached the bar. "Are you well, Christine?" He asked with gentle eyes.

All of the concern was suddenly very overwhelming to Christine. "Truly, I am fine. I thank you for sending Keenan." Her eyes looked away a part of her felt burning shame for having been so powerless earlier. Her face flushed with embarrassment for her lack of ability to fight off the man herself.

"I apologize, Christine. I was not the one who sent Keenan. I was in the office at the time of the incident." He grimaced at his own failure.

"Who then?"

Nadir seemed reluctant to respond, then rolled his eyes in exasperation and finally let loose the words. "Erik. He enjoys having eyes all over this place. I still have not grown accustom to his methods of surveillance."

Christine's eyes scanned the room, ceiling to floor. "But how?"

Nadir shrugged. "Who knows? He's a magician among other things. I know him and still gives me the creeps." He looked at Christine with kindness shining in his brilliant green eyes. "Do not let this revelation frighten you. He may have unconventional methods, but I assure you that you will always be safe." He rubbed his eyes and gave a deflated sigh. "Now, I must go, I assume I have a lecture awaiting me back in the office."

Arthurs eyes lingered on Nadir as he walked away. His hands busy drying a rock glass with a clean cloth. Christine did not miss the sad sort of admiration in his eyes.

Christine came behind the bar and began to help Arthur with the drying. "How do you think he does it?" She asked in a barely audible voice in an attempt not to be heard.

"Who? Do what?" Arthur whispered back, accepting the unspoken rules of this strange new conversation.

"Erik. How do you think he sees what's happening?" She whispered back, her eyes not leaving the glass she was drying.

"Beats me, but it certainly adds to his enigma, does it not?" He chuckled. "I've only met him a handful of times, each time leaving me with more questions than the last." He chuckled at a sudden memory. "You know, I actually heard him before I met him."

"Like on the telephone?"

"No, in my ear." He looked over at her bemused expression. "It's true. I was my first day and I could not, for the life of me, remember the combination to the stock room vault. God, it was humiliating. I tried number after number to no avail. Then suddenly I heard someone say the numbers in my ear. It was the strangest thing. It wasn't until I met him in person later on that I put the voice to the…face."

Christine's puzzled expression melted to one of understanding. Suddenly some of the odd events of the evening made much more sense. She wasn't certain of the how, what she now knew what had left the boor of a man so horror-stricken.

"I'd like to tell you a secret, Arthur." She cupped her hands around his ear and pressed her face to him to deliver the words for him alone. "I find him incredibly fascinating." She very quietly breathed into his ear.

He hummed in response.

The rest of the shift was seamless, but the weight of her confession remained.

As Keenan left for the evening, she bid him a good night.

If only she knew the sinister event looming on the horizon, perhaps she would have said more.

*Matrimonial Polka- Slang for "doing it"