It was a good half a mile walk uphill to the city. The city was a fair size, not exceptionally big, nor small. I was pleased. Not the type of city Lydecker would come looking for me in.
I walked slowly down the cracked sidewalks, enjoying the new sights and sounds of this city. People were bustling about, not noticing nor truly caring about me. I liked it that way.
There were stores of all type, thriving in this Canadian environment. Clothing stores that boasted the finest threads in the city. Restaurants that sent out smells so delicious that even I had a hard time controlling my rumbling stomach. Car dealerships with sleazy salesmen. I smiled, despite my situation at the time.
As I walked down the sidewalks, trying not to be noticed, I realized I needed something to eat. And it wasn't just because of the tempting restaurants. I needed something to eat or else I was going to literally starve.
Something cheap, something easy in a place I could blend in wearing my street clothes. As if in answer to my situation, I found myself stopping in front of a building. Ah, a bar. Cheap food and roadies that wouldn't be able to distinguish me if they had to.
I turned and entered, pushing the flimsy screen door aside. The bar was mostly empty, as I had suspected it would be in the daylight hours. A couple people looked up as I entered, mostly women, I noticed. I felt my face burn in the dim lighting-I didn't like the admiration.
Slowly, I wandered down to the actual bar and slung my leg over the stool. A bleary eyed, beer-bellied bartender turned to me. "Whatcha havin'?" he asked, bored.
"What is there that's cheap?"
The man smiled and nodded. "You want cheap?"
"Yeah, don't got a lot of money on me," I admitted.
"I can do that." He turned slowly and pulled a bottle off the shelf and filled up a glass cup. "Here ya go," he said, handing the cup to me.
Cautiously, I sniffed at it. Smelled safe enough. I took a tiny sip. The drink was bitter, as all alcohol was. Yet, it satisfied me. Good enough.
I sat, hunched over, drinking quietly. A couple men gave me the eye, but I looked away, pretending not to notice. As I sat there, I noticed the pool table was free and headed over, bored with just sitting. I had to keep occupied or else the memories were going to start nipping at me again.
Easily, I broke the triangle of colored balls in the middle of the green sea of the pool table. Two balls sank in the holes. This brought a couple people to stand and look at my skill. Another shot caused three more balls to go ricocheting into the holes. There was some fair staccato claps. Big deal.
As I bent over again to shoot, I felt the presence of eyes on me. Slowly I stood up and turned around. Two woman sat at the bar staring at me. "Look," I said, "if you want to talk, talk to me, not my ass." They laughed and one of them stood up and walked towards me. She had tight blond curls and glittering green eyes complimenting her curvy body dressed in black leather jeans and a midnight blue T-shirt. She couldn't have been much older than me.
"Well," she mocked, "I'll talk to you now, seein' how I know whatcha look like." I didn't reply. She stuck out her hand forcefully. "Name's Carly. What's yours?"
I accepted her hand and shook it politely. "Zack," I replied.