Michael found himself at the same bar on Friday night. It was a coincidence, he told himself, he didn't intentionally go because it was Friday. He'd gotten out of work early and wanted to be out in the world a bit longer. So, he'd gone home to change and then went to the bar that was closest to his apartment. It just happened to be the one where he'd met Sara.
He was hopeless. Was this stalking? She hadn't called back. What would he even do if she was there? Maybe he should wait for her to approach him. His mind bantered back and forth with itself, an endless string of questions and doubt.
But it didn't matter. He spent four hours there slowly nursing one beer after another, and never saw her. Maybe she and Veronica didn't always meet at the same bar. He sighed, wanting to give it up, to move on, but knew in his heart that next Friday, he'd be right back in the same spot.
XXXXX
It was Saturday morning and Sara was on her first break. The morning had been relatively quiet which was a blessing and a curse. It had given her more time to think.
It had been a week since her night out with Veronica. The days had flown by with their usual bustle; days at work were busy and her time at home was filled with sleeping and errands and day-off chores. She wondered about him from time to time, his face popping into her mind when she'd least expect it. A patient of hers the other day was named Michael; she tried to ignore the jump of her heart when she saw it printed there, as if the name alone, though it belonged to someone else, was enough to derail her train of thought- to throw her off balance. She really needed to do something about this- either text him and see what happens or forget him and move on. She didn't like either option, but the last one stung a bit more.
She sat in the break room picking apart a blueberry muffin and sipping on her coffee, lost in her thoughts, when a nurse popped in and grabbed something from the fridge, sticking it in the microwave and pressing a few buttons, "Morning, Dr. Tancredi."
She picked her head up and smiled, "Hey Audrey."
"Mind if I sit?" the young brunette asked as the microwave beeped.
"Not at all," she scooted her food closer, allowing more space as Audrey sat down across from her and asked, "how's your dad?"
"Good," she answered, taking a bite, "feeling a bit better but still weak."
He'd been brought in a few days ago for a stroke and was still recovering; Sara had been the E.R. doctor that night.
"I'm glad he's on the mend," she replied, sipping her coffee, her mind a bit distracted.
Audrey eyed her carefully. They worked together fairly often; she was a good nurse and Sara was grateful to have her. They got along well, and she considered them friends. Audrey was also quite good at reading people apparently, because she tilted her head.
"What's new with you?"
"Uh," Sara cleared her throat, "nothing really."
Her eyes narrowed, a sarcastic, "Really?"
Sara didn't say anything, shoving a bite into her mouth instead.
Audrey's expression softened, "Is everything ok?"
"What? Oh yea," she waved a hand, "everything is fine I just," her voice trailed off.
"You met someone," it was a statement, not a question.
Her mouth opened, "Wha-?"
"Yes, finally!" she exclaimed, almost jumping out of her seat, "you deserve somebody-"
"-no I haven't, I mean," she tried desperately to regain control of the conversation.
"What?"
"I haven't…called him yet."
Leaning forward, interested now, "Go on. Details please."
She knew she was sunk, unable to avoid the rest of the conversation. If she was being honest with herself, she was glad to have someone to talk to about it. She'd been spinning her wheels in her own mind, maybe saying it out loud would help.
"Well," she leaned on her elbows, "we met in a bar last week and he gave me his card. I haven't called back yet."
"Why?"
"I," she paused, "I don't know. I guess just the fear that it won't work out? Not wanting to complicate things."
"But do you like him?"
"Well…yea."
"Sara," she rolled her eyes, used her first name instead of "Doctor," which made it feel far more like a conversation between friends, "you have to at least try. Have a little fun! Go out again. If it ends up being terrible oh well, you only wasted a few hours."
Skeptically, "Really?"
With a "duh," expression, "Uh, yea."
A sigh, "Fine."
She took another bite of her almost- gone muffin and realized Audrey was staring at her, "What?"
"Now please."
Eyebrows raised, "You're going to sit here and watch me text him."
She shrugged, a mischievous twinkle, "I have to know you won't chicken out."
She groaned, "Oh come on-"
The door opened, "Dr. Tancredi, they need you out here, car crash with multiple victims en route."
She stood up, "On my way."
Audrey hollered after her, "Don't think I'll forget!"
XXXXXX
Audrey didn't forget, but neither did Sara. It was afternoon now and she was still high on the adrenaline from their busy morning. She was finally able to step away, using the bathroom quickly and heading back to the break room to chug some water. She felt good; everyone from the crash was stable now and she was high on the rush of it all, the success.
She pulled out her phone and typed.
"Hey, it's Sara. Just wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime? Let me know."
She hit send. Usually she'd read it over and over, double checking and worrying about every single detail. Every word. But right now, she couldn't be bothered to care; she felt powerful and confident. If he said no she'd move on with her life.
Her phone buzzed, "I'd love to. Let me know where and when."
Her heart leapt, and she smiled; it was a good day.
XXXXX
Theodore Bagwell stepped up and sat behind the wheel of his big-rig. It was early dawn, the sun just starting to rise, and he'd stopped for coffee and food before hitting the road again.
He didn't mind driving truck, but he didn't really like it. It was boring. It was, however, one of the few jobs he was able to get given his criminal record…and his predisposition to violent behavior. He'd dug the hole himself and he knew it, landing on the wrong side of the law a few too many times, but he tried to make the best of it; he distracted himself with music, but it was never quite enough to fill the long days on the road.
His phone vibrating caught his attention as he sat; he pulled it from his pocket and saw that it was Brad calling.
"Yello?" he answered.
"You on schedule?" the gruff voice replied.
"Sure am, boss. About to hit the road and should be there in five hours or so."
"Good," he drawled, "that's good. You have the address, just remember to bring it around back, park in-"
"-in the warehouse, I got it," he parroted; he knew the drill.
"The buyers will meet us there. How's the cargo doing?"
"Alive and kickin," he replied, making a mental note to check on them when he arrived, to make sure he wasn't lying before the buyer got there.
"See you soon," Brad replied, and the line went dead.
XXXXX
The following weekend was the first time they were able to make it work. Michael knew she was an E.R. doctor but trying to arrange a time to meet really put into perspective how busy and erratic her schedule was. They'd agreed on Sunday morning at eight; they were both early risers and would be desperate for coffee by that point anyways.
He was nervous on the drive over, which surprised him; normally he didn't manage to feel much of anything before a dose of caffeine. He parked near the coffee shop she'd suggested and looked around. It was quaint, located in a building downtown, with a fair amount of outdoor seating. It was a beautiful morning, so he took a seat outside while he waited, watching the light shine through the leaves on the trees around him. He was early; it was only 7:45, but he'd always rather be early than late, giving him time to look around and observe, deciding on what he wanted to drink.
A flash of red caught his attention. His gazed turned upwards as she rounded the block, coming towards him. The sun glistened off her hair as it bopped against her shoulders with each step. She wore jeans and a gray tank top, sunglasses hiding her eyes, a bag under her arm.
He waved as she got closer and she spotted him, waving back and coming over. She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and smiled, "Hey."
"Hey," he wanted to say, "You look beautiful," but bit his tongue, not wanting to do anything to scare her away, but it crossed his mind. Repeatedly.
He stood up and grabbed the door, gesturing for her to enter.
"Thanks," she went in and up to the counter. He followed.
"You ever been here before?" she asked.
"Nope, first time."
"Well, everything is good, so you can't go wrong-"
A barista appeared, "Hey Sara!"
A smile, "Hey! Can I just get a latte for here."
"Sure thing, and for you?" the barista looked at Michael.
"The same," he replied, wanting to keep it simple, stepping forward to pay.
Sara was digging for her wallet as he stepped forward, "Oh, that's ok, you don't have to-"
He handed the barista a twenty, then looked back to her, genuinely, "I want to."
She softened and abandoned the search for her wallet, "Okay."
Call him old fashioned, but he felt it was the least he could do. It was a gesture of kindness more than anything, not a way to assert his dominance or prove he had money. He wanted to do something nice for her, that's all, and hoped that she saw it that way.
They moved to the end of the counter to wait.
Michael, "So, she knows your name, I guess that means you come here a lot?"
She smiled but lowered her head, "Uh, yea…busted. I like to come here on my days off. Normally I chug black coffee at work," she shrugged, "it's nice to take the time to sip on a latte every now and then."
He nodded, understanding. Their drinks were set down in front of them and they each grabbed one, heading outside. The sun was warming up, a clear blue sky without clouds. The tables and chairs were black; still cool from the night time air but promising to warm with the sun.
They sat opposite from each other, the easy jazz music from the café in the background; it was getting busier there, with people popping in and out, the bell on the door chiming each arrival and departure. The streets were livening with people cycling and walking dogs. It had a pleasant energy; a bustling yet stress-free morning.
"So," Michael started as he sat down, meeting her eyes, "what made you decide to call?"
"Well," she set her glasses down and ran a hand through her hair, "a nurse actually."
"Oh?"
"Yup. She basically said if I didn't call you she'd do it for me…that was the gist of it anyways."
"So you were pressured to," he baited, half teasing, "you didn't really want to."
She grinned, "No, I did. I just…I don't know. It's hard to find time to meet people; my schedule is ridiculous and I realize that sounds like an excuse, it's not-"
He put a hand on top of hers, the act surprising her, "I'm glad you called."
Her eyes searched his, honest vulnerability, "Me too."
The next hour passed with ease and interesting conversations. They started off talking about work, as people do, and he could tell she was passionate about what she did. He loved his work too and was pleasantly surprised that when he told her about it, her eyes didn't glaze over. Most people either had no idea what he was talking about or no interest, but she kept up- even asked smart questions. She listened and engaged in ways that most people didn't. It was intoxicating to be around.
An hour ticked by, and then two, before he checked the time and realized how long they'd been there. A mutual decision to leave was made, both of them having things to get done before the day flew by.
They'd unknowingly parked close to each other, so they got up and walked together down the block and around the corner.
They got to her car first and she unlocked it with a click, hovering outside the driver's door.
"Well," she looked down and then back up, "thanks for this."
"I'd love to see you again," he replied directly, not wanting to leave her wondering.
"I'd like that too."
He stood a moment longer, not wanting to leave, afraid that if he did, he might never see her again. That she'd vanish into thin air.
She stepped closer, the movement swift and light, leaving a kiss on his cheek, "Just let me know when."
His whole body was buzzing now, a strange, floating sensation as he struggled to form a coherent reply, "I will."
XXXXX
Another week passed quickly, and before he knew it, it was Friday again. The realization caused a pang of hurt for Michael; he hadn't seen Sara since Sunday. He'd been thinking all week that he'd go to the bar again, hoping to see her and Veronica; he'd gone every Friday since they'd met. But today would be different. There was a meeting that ran late and put him behind on his other work. It was already 6:30 and the finish line was still a ways away- he'd probably end up getting something delivered to his office and eating dinner there. He sighed. He'd have to text her tomorrow and try to set something up for next week.
It wasn't that he was unhappy without her, but he really enjoyed her company. He missed her when he couldn't see her and that was enough of a sign for him to reach out again. Tomorrow; he'd text her tomorrow.
XXXXX
Veronica swore under her breath at the traffic, knowing she'd be late (again) to her monthly visit with Sara. She was at a red light and grabbed her phone, texting a quick, "I'm on my way! Be a few minutes late."
Sara replied quickly, "No worries. I'll order your usual."
She was still in her work clothes but figured it could be worse. She had gray slacks on with an emerald green short sleeved sweater; not exactly bar attire but it didn't matter. Sara had seen her in panda bear onesie pajamas back in school. She could deal with this, no problem.
When she finally pulled into the parking lot for the bar, she couldn't help but notice how empty it was. There were a few cars, a bike locked to a lamp post, a few big trucks and of course, Sara's car. She walked in and spotted her friend easily, who was sitting in a barstool sipping on her drink.
"Hey," she walked up.
"Hey, yourself."
"Where is everybody?" she wondered aloud as she hoisted herself up onto the barstool.
The bartender, a young lady with a blonde bun answered, "There's a game tonight- a big one. It'll get busy later," she winked and turned to finish washing a few glasses.
"Looks like we're here at a good time, then," Veronica observed, not minding the quieter atmosphere for a change, "how've you been?"
Sara smiled, almost trying to hide it, "I've been…I've been really good."
Veronica eyed her now, knowing that look. Her eyes widened, "Him!?" she pointed towards the vacant seat at the other end of the bar. The seat where Michael had been, "you called him, and you didn't tell me!?"
"Ok, ok take it easy," Sara joked, "yes I've talked to him a little. And we met for coffee once, but that's-"
Veronica's stunned, insulted look cut her off, "You didn't tell me?" she reiterated.
"We've only met in person once," she defended, "it's not like we're engaged or anything. Hell, I don't even know if we're dating. I don't think we are. We just like each other's company."
Skeptically, "Uh huh. Sure," she joked, then her smiled settled, "I'm happy for you, he seems really great."
A soft smile, "He is."
Veronica watched as the waitress delivered a basket of wings to a table nearby, "Oh my God, those look good."
Sara smiled, "Too busy for dinner today?"
"Yea, I just got out. Wanna split something?"
They eyed each other, trying to read the other's mind and said simultaneously, "Fries."
Grinning, Veronica flagged the waitress and ordered a basket for them to share.
XXXXX
Tbag watched from a booth in the corner as two young women, a redhead and one with raven hair, talked and sipped their drinks. He had a baseball cap pulled low to cover his face.
They'd do quite nicely.
It was a perfect opportunity; the bar was practically vacant. He'd overheard them chatting with the bartender and knew they planned to leave before it got busy. That's when he'd do it. For now, he could just lay and wait, watching them and the T.V., sipping a beer but not allowing himself to get anywhere near drunk. He needed to keep his wits about him.
He opened his phone and called Bellick, his voice low, "I've got a few potentials here-"
"-how many?"
"Two."
His voice was gruff, "Well, that's a start. How old are they?"
"Mid-twenties if I'm guessing."
"You know they like 'em younger-"
"-if they need 'em as badly as they say they do, they'll take 'em. And I can get them tonight, you always say how urgent this is, how we have a quota to meet."
"Fine, get 'em. Then bring 'em to-"
"-the warehouse," he sighed, exasperated, "I got it, boss, don't you worry."
"See you soon."
XXXXXX
The bartender came over, "Game is over. Just a heads up if you were hoping to get out before the lot gets full."
Veronica nodded, "Yea we'll take the check, thanks."
They paid and stood up, stretching and resituating their clothes before heading towards the door.
Sara, "Where are you parked?"
"Over this way," she pointed to the left.
"Me too," they pushed the door open and started walking together. It was dark now, though the pavement was still warm from the scorching sun during the day. A comfortable silence settled as they walked towards their cars.
Out of nowhere, something jolted against Veronica's side. She yelped at the pain, the electric shock, then realized Sara was doing the same, a cry escaping her lips as they both dropped to the pavement, their bodies incapacitated. She felt paralyzed; tasered, her mind supplied, quickly putting together the pieces of what was happening, and it was happening fast.
Duct tape came over her mouth. She and Sara were both on their bellies, their faces tilted towards each other, and she watched as the man put tape over Sara's mouth as well; her brown eyes meeting Veronica's green ones, wild with fear. She tried to struggle, but her limbs wouldn't work.
The pavement that was warm beneath her feet was practically burning her face and arms, her bare flesh against the hot, black surface.
They were close to a semi-truck, she realized, and the man dragged her to her feet, hauling her over and putting her in the back. Sara soon joined her, and the door was shut, latched, into complete darkness.