Chapter 3

He came down to the bar around 6:30 and it was already bustling. It was loud and busy. Jack was at the bar, but he wasn't alone. There was another man also tending the bar. There were two women and two men serving. Joel could also hear people in the back cooking. It smelled really good and reminded Joel that he hadn't eaten all day. His stomach started growling. He made his way to the bar and got Jack's attention.

"You change your mind?" Jack asked.

"Nope, but you said I could get a discount on food?"

Again, there was a strange expression on Jack's face as he considered Joel's question.

"On the house for tonight, but don't get used to that."

"I won't," Joel said, trying not to sound too eager.

Jack called back. "Sanchez, get some grub for our new musician! On the double, he's got to work soon."

"On it!"

Joel didn't have long to wait. Clearly, there was a quick turnover on a Friday night and there was probably at least one other person cooking in the back. A short, wiry man with glasses came out of the back, carrying a plate of nachos. At first, it seemed pretty typical, but then, he realized that there were...

"Onion rings? On nachos?" Joel asked in surprise.

The man laughed. "Gotta be creative somehow. Can't be completely stereotypical," he said.

"Guess not. You're Sanchez?"

"Yep. Your name?"

"Joel."

"Well, enjoy. You need a drink, too?"

"No drinking on the job, but I'll take water or sarsaparilla if you've got it."

"Ha. Can you spell that?"

"Nope...but I can drink it," Joel said, grinning.

Sanchez laughed...and got him a glass of water. Joel took the plate and moved to a corner where he wouldn't interfere with Jack's business and made short work of the plate of nachos. They were delicious and spicy. He could wish for a nice beer to go with them, but he could respect the rules of the establishment, and if Jack was just getting through with issues with someone drinking on the job, no way would Joel tempt fate by doing the same thing, even if he wasn't working quite yet and one beer wouldn't make him drunk.

Still, he didn't want to be singing with an overfull stomach, so he discreetly squirreled away the last of the nachos, intending to save them for later. He thought Jack might have noticed but he didn't say anything. He just pointed to the piano. Joel nodded and headed over to it. He sat down and thought about what to play first. He figured that instrumental might be best to get people prepared for the addition of music. Then, as was frustratingly impressive, he thought about a song and he knew he could improvise it. Why?

Oh, well. He shook that off and started playing an instrumental version of "The Longest Time" by Billy Joel. He hummed along with the music in a few places but he didn't sing outright. The noise level decreased noticeably when he started but then increased again after a few bars. Some people were genuinely listening. For others, it was just pleasant background. That was okay. It might take some time to get established but as long as he was good, Jack would likely give him that time.

However, playing for hours at a time was not something he was used to and he got tired. He was really glad for the breaks he was given. By one in the morning, the bar was much quieter and Joel was definitely slowing down himself.

"Hey, Jack! I see you got your musician!"

The voice startled Joel out of his daze. He looked back and saw a man walking up to the bar. He seemed friendly enough.

"For now, Lang," Jack said. "You on the clock?"

"Nope. Give me a beer."

Jack served the man who then turned to Joel and said, "Play it again, Sam!"

"You know, that's not really what she said. Actually, neither of them say it. It's not in the movie at all," Joel said, and then wondered at yet another thing he knew that had nothing to do with who he was. Why did he know a quote from a movie?

"Oh, really? What is it, then?" the man asked.

"Ilsa says, 'Play it, Sam.' and later, Rick says, 'Play it, Sam. You played it for her. You can play it for me.'"

"Movie guy, huh."

"Guess so," Joel said.

"Well, can you play it or not?"

It was an obvious challenge.

"Sure."

Joel turned around and started picking out the tune of "As Time Goes By" and then, he started singing it as well.

"You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss
A sigh is just a sigh."

He sang the whole song and then grabbed his glass of water and took a drink.

"Bravo, Sam!" the man said.

Joel turned around and the man toasted him with his beer.

"Can I have a break, Boss?" Joel asked Jack.

...and then realized that the word was really natural for him to say. He must have had a job before.

Jack rolled his eyes and gestured. Gladly, Joel got up from the piano bench and walked over to the bar.

"I'm Joel," he said and stuck out his hand.

"Oh, that's why Jack hired you. Your name is only one syllable. That's all he can handle," the man said, grinning.

"I heard him saying two syllables today," Joel said.

"Really? Okay, then, what's your excuse, Jack?"

Jack chuckled a little and it was a relief to see that he could be amused.

"I'm Langston," the man said, shaking Joel's hand. "But Jack always calls me Lang."

"Not my fault you didn't enunciate when you introduced yourself the first time," Jack said.

"My jaw was broken!"

"No excuse," Jack said. "Then, you didn't correct me after, either."

Joel laughed.

"You a boxer?" he asked.

"Do I look like a boxer?"

"No, but I may not be the best judge of these things."

"Not a boxer."

"He'd have been better off if he had been," Jack said.

"Probably." Then, Langston looked at Joel again. "You're pretty good."

"Thanks," Joel said. Then, he looked at Jack. "This long every night?"

"Only on weekends," Jack said. "Fridays and Saturdays. Sundays, only through eleven. Monday through Thursday until midnight. Got it?"

"Works for me."

"And if I have a really slow night, I'll have to cut your time."

"Got it."

"Any other questions?"

"Yeah, looks pretty dead in here, right now. You want me to keep playing?"

Jack shook his head. "Nope. You can turn in."

"Will do."

Joel headed out of the bar. As he headed up the stairs, he pulled out what was left of the nachos. They were cold, limp and a little soggy, but he was glad he still had something to eat before he headed to bed.

"Hey, Joel."

He paused on the stairs and turned around. Jack was there.

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

"Uh... okay."

Joel followed Jack back into the kitchen. He picked up a plate that had what looked like leftovers from the evening menu.

"Here. I hate having to throw food out at the end of the night."

"Something else I shouldn't get used to?" Joel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Right."

"Okay. I'll go and not get used to it in my room."

"Good."

Joel chuckled a little and took the plate of food up to his room. When he got up there, he picked through and found the things that would keep a day and put them into the fridge. The rest he ate. Then, he lay down on the small bed and was glad to note that it was pretty comfortable.

It had been a very long day and he was relieved to go to sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a pounding on the door. He froze in shock.

A voice. "They're coming! They must have followed you!"

Bullets started flying through the door. He dropped to the floor, looking for cover.

"What now?"

"Out the window!"

The images were vague and blurry. He couldn't see any details at all. Mostly he could hear. ...and feel the panic.

"No!"

He was grabbing for an arm. He felt the cloth tear.

"No!"

Joel sat up in bed, breathing heavily, the images fading from his mind as he tried to calm down. He dropped his head into his hands as he tried to decide whether or not what he'd dreamt was real. Part of him thought it must be, that there was definitely something from his past in that dream, but he could see so little of it. He just felt that the fear had been real.

After a few minutes, he calmed down and wiped his hand over his face. That was something he didn't need to share with anyone at the moment. Real or not, he had no idea what the situation was. It could have been innocent or it could have been something like a drug deal gone wrong. There was nothing in his mind to say one way or the other, and he didn't care if he'd been a criminal before whatever had happened. There was no way he'd let himself get taken out like that. Being across the country might work out in more ways than one.

But it still bugged him that California had loomed so large in his mind. Large enough that he was willing to come here without knowing why.

Well, that was his situation and for now, that was how it would stay. Instead of dwelling on a past that he couldn't remember, he decided to focus on the present. What would come in the future? He didn't know, but for now, he didn't care. Right now was enough.

So what was he going to do today? It was pretty obvious that he couldn't make enough just playing the piano in the bar. He'd need more, even if Jack was showing that he had a bit of a soft spot. Giving a new hire food on the house, plus more after his shift, plus a place to stay? He was a softy, in spite of seeming hard on the outside, but Joel could also see how that soft streak could turn hard if someone tried to take advantage of him. He was clearly careful about who he showed his charity to, but whatever he'd seen in Joel had been enough to bring that on. So Joel decided that he would do everything he could to keep on Jack's good side. He might get some unexpected benefits from that. He'd definitely landed on his feet in getting this job, even if it wasn't enough. It was a start.

He pulled out his wallet and counted up the cash he had left. It wasn't much, but if he was frugal, he could probably buy some food. Cereal and milk and that would get him through quite a lot. His main issue now was not knowing his way around. He needed to find a grocery store nearby because he couldn't afford transit and he didn't have a car. Oh, for the old days of phonebooks.

For now, however, he went to the fridge and pulled out the leftovers from the night before. He ate them cold. Not the best but tolerable. And it was food.

Before he left to go exploring, he decided to do a rudimentary wash of his clothes. He could wear the cleanest ones and wash the others and let them dry while he was looking for a place to buy food.

He went into the bathroom and suddenly remembered that he hadn't changed the dressing on his wound. Quickly, he went back to his bag and grabbed his supplies. As he went through the process of cleaning and disinfecting his injuries, the same questions he always had ran through his mind. He didn't remember going into the water, which is what he'd been told had happened. He only vaguely remembered the man who had pulled him out of the water. His first clear memory had been waking up in the homeless clinic, but the man who had brought him there had said he had been walking.

He closed his eyes and thought back to the first memory he had. As far as he knew, his whole life began with that memory.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's waking up."

He opened his eyes and looked around.

"Mr. Williams?"

He didn't know where he was, but there was a feeling of fear and worry and grief. He looked around again.

"Mr. Williams, can you hear me?"

He started to sit up but hands held him back. His head was spinning enough that he didn't protest too much.

"Calm down, Mr. Williams."

He looked around and finally his brain started acknowledging the visual input. And he realized that he was the Mr. Williams being spoken to. An older man was looking down at him with concern.

"Where am I?" he asked. "What happened?"

"You're at the free clinic attached to the men's shelter. Your friend brought you here last night."

"Friend?" he asked vaguely. He looked around again and saw someone else standing there. ...and it wasn't who he thought should be there. But as soon as he thought that, he couldn't remember who should be instead.

"You went for a swim, but it was a bad idea."

"Oh. I don't... remember..."

"That's common after a head injury," the doctor said.

"It is?"

"Yes."

He was about to say that he didn't remember anything and that didn't seem normal, but then, he realized that, if he did, he'd be opening himself up to anyone coming at him and claiming to be someone he knew. He'd better keep that part to himself for now.

"Can I sit up?" he asked.

"Carefully. You'll probably be dizzy. That's also common."

He nodded and let the doctor help him sit up. He was dizzy, but he didn't think he'd fall over. His head ached, though. So did his arm. He looked down and saw a bandage.

"What happened?"

"It's a through and through shot. You're lucky. It didn't hit the bone or your blood vessels. It could have been really serious, but mostly, it's a flesh wound. Your head could have killed you, though, if it had been any deeper."

"My head?"

He lifted his hand to his head and felt another bandage. He winced as he touched it.

"Mr. Williams, do you know who shot you?"

"No," he said, shaking his head slowly.

"Do you know why someone was shooting at you?"

"No. I don't remember."

He had the feeling that the doctor didn't believe him, but he just nodded.

"I'll be right back. Just relax, Mr. Williams."

"Okay."

He leaned back on the bed and then looked at the man who had apparently brought him in.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Arthur. I saw you running from those guys. You steal from them?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Uh-huh," Arthur said, sounding doubtful. "Well, I think you shouldn't plan on hanging around here for long. Someone wants to kill you, this place won't protect you. Besides, that doc'll call the cops soon enough with the gunshot. He probably thinks you're dirty."

He didn't like thinking about that possibility. Instead, he focused on getting as much information as he could without it being suspicious.

"You saw me?"

"Yeah. Running like the devil was after you, and they shot twice and you fell into the river. I saw them look over the edge and then I pulled you out when they left. You weren't talking much, but you were awake."

"I was?"

"Yeah. Kept talking about not being found. So I brought you here. You on drugs?"

"No."

"I didn't find any."

He looked at Arthur and raised an eyebrow at him. Arthur smiled. It wasn't a particularly nice smile.

"They'll give you some stuff at the shelter if you need it, but you shouldn't stay here. You should get out while you can. If someone is trying to kill you, you shouldn't let yourself be a target like that."

"Maybe you're right."

"I'm right."

"Maybe."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Joel sighed heavily and stared at himself in the mirror again. He had quite the scruff and his hair was shaggy. He wasn't going to be paying for a barber anytime soon, though. He'd just have to work with what he had.

Which wasn't much.

He took a breath and tried to push away all that he didn't know. Leave the past where it was and just try to get through the present. Whoever had been trying to kill him was across the country. Who would think of looking for him here? No one. He was as safe as he probably could be.

So he'd focus on what he'd originally planned: finding a grocery store and washing his clothes in the teeny-tiny shower.

"That's enough for now," he said softly to himself.

One more deep breath and he got to work.