Alright, here we go with another chapter before I hit the long stretch of 4 papers, 2 presentations and finals. Ugg, academia sucks. Special thanks, as always, to Zickachik for making me make sense.
Disclaimer: The usual.
On with the show!
Davy was right when he said that inventory was boring. I finally excused myself after hours of calling numbers and watching Davy scribble down figures. It was ridiculous that someone could be paid to do something like that for a living. I knew Davy did other things, but the bulk of his time was always spent in the back room working on inventory. I assumed they hired him for it because he was so smart. Davy said that I was helping a lot by doing my part, but he'd also smiled understandingly and nodded when I finally told him I had to go. He did warn me, after all.
I also had to show up at Buck's at some point. Not only did Ross insist that he know where I was after sundown, but Buck promised me the tips were even better on the weekends. I'd been around for a few weekends and knew he was telling the truth. As it was, I could use the money. I only had seven days before I left for good. Davy had it all planned out and I was grateful for his help, even if we were behind shedule. It didn't really matter exactly when I left. As soon as I did, I didn't plan on stopping until I was far away from Mr. Tallowate's reach. I had no doubt that the man could stretch his arm out of state if he wanted to. He seemed like a person with connections. Hopefully those connections wouldn't reach as far as Florida.
The bar wasn't really alive yet when I came in. There was some clanging in the kitchen and I wasn't surprised to find Ross cooking again. He seemed to be the only one alive who could make anything in the whole building that resembled food. He glanced up at me and sighed, reaching for another couple eggs. Of course, everything Ross cooked was made with eggs, no matter what time of the day it was. That was the only downside because Ross could cook eggs like no one else.
"Are you sticking around tonight?" I asked.
"No," he replied simply.
"Well, what will you be doing?" I asked, not expecting an answer.
"Shepard and I are going to go and pick daisies for old ladies before we go and give everyone on the Ribbon a hug."
…Or at least a serious answer.
Ross liked to hide behind sarcasm. I suppose whatever he was doing was either something he didn't want to share or it was something that was going to get him in trouble and the fewer people who knew about it the better. I think he was afraid I was going to follow after him like a puppy, like when we were young when I dogged him worse than any puppy could have. I'd grown up and Ross wasn't so fascinating any more. Now he was downright scary to be with any more than you had to.
"Oh." I nodded and he dismissed me with a look, clearly not impressed that I was ignoring his clever sarcastic comments. "Have fun."
"It'll be busy in here tonight. Try to stay out of the way – Buck doesn't have time to baby sit you."
I didn't bother telling him that I was a big girl and could take care of myself. I'd get a less than credible look or else I'd just get told to be quiet. Ross plopped a plate of food down in front of where I had decided to sit at the counter. Instead of staying there to eat with me, Ross took his plate with him as he walked out into the barroom. I wasn't hurt. Ross wasn't much of a people person and I had the feeling that being family meant you didn't even register as a person in Ross' eyes. You became something lower and contemptible. For all the things that were wrong in my life, I was glad I wasn't as far gone as Ross.
It was just as I was finishing breakfast when Buck came into the kitchen and helped himself to what I couldn't eat. Ross was a bit of a bottomless pit and when cooking for me too, he just doubled everything. Buck wasn't complaining. He actually got to eat in his own home.
"I'm playing poker tonight in the back room. I want you to pop in every so often to make sure me and my guests are well liquored up. Think you can handle that?" Buck asked and I nodded. "I'll make sure you get a cut of what I win if you don't spill anything."
I knew that was an empty promise. It was rare when I didn't spill anything and even rarer when Buck won anything. Two-Bit had told me that the only reason Buck operated a bar was to make it even with his gambling. I guess that made sense. Even Davy had wondered how Buck was so poor with everything he was owed. I supposed he owed just as much back.
"Get those glasses polished and lined up," Buck ordered in his laid-back cowboy way as he sauntered towards the same doors Ross had only minutes before. "And if you see that cousin of yours, tell him to steer clear a'here tonight."
I didn't even bother to ask why Ross would be avoiding the bar. It could be anything from an ex-girlfriend to the boyfriend of a current object of Ross' attention. Either way, Buck would probably run into Ross before I did.
As it was, Saturdays were so busy I wouldn't have had the chance to tell Ross anything unless it was how much his drink was. Everyone seemed to be packed into the open space, playing pool, drinking, cards, and just socializing in general. And through it all, I was handling the drinks to the back room where there was a private game going on between Buck and four people I had seen around before. They tipped well and all seemed friendly enough when their luck was up.
When I wasn't back there, I was taking a breather on the back stairs outside. They led right to the top floor so you could avoid being seen coming in through the main doors. You would think that Buck would get robbed more, but he didn't have much to take. The whole building was pretty bare, but that could be because all the good stuff was already taken. I thought the bare look suited the building better anyways.
The place where Buck lived was originally an old saloon from way back when the territory was settled, or so Buck had told me. I could believe it. It was set up like one, even though you could tell it had been worked on and fixed up over the years. Buck had told me it was passed on through his family and his daddy ran it as a hotel, but with all the rodeoing he did, Buck didn't have time to run it like that. The bar was still up and running and the main barroom was used for just that. The old dining room was full of pool tables now and the rooms upstairs were used to just "crash in". Buck had said he would rather folks had a place to pass out there rather than behind the wheel or in the ditch on their walk home. I thought that was a good idea, considering how everyone seemed to come to Buck's for the purpose of passing out from drinking. The old fashioned wood floors were even kind of comfortable if you couldn't get upstairs, depending on how open you were to sleeping in spilled beer and possibly vomit.
It was after my fourth breath of fresh air out on the steps that the night took an unexpected turn for the worst. Greg was the only one behind the bar tonight and he was looking tired. He didn't trust me alone back there and I was grateful. I had no head for numbers and no idea how to make some of the odd drinks that were thrown in every once in a while. I barely even managed to carry drinks back and forth to the back room. If I had a career in life, bartending or waitressing would not be it.
"Great. Who the hell let that jackass in here?"
I glanced at Greg who was looking toward where the door had just admitted more people. I groaned. Among them was Del. In fact, I was sure he was the jackass Greg was talking about. Del had made trouble every time he was here and even Ross' presence didn't stop him. Greg had taken to trying to get him liquored up as fast as possible so he would do something stupid sooner, and then he could throw him out sooner. Ross and Buck never said anything about that, but they still brought up the beer mug incident. Yet another double standard.
Del didn't waste any time. He wandered right over to the bar and gave Greg a grin.
"What'll you have, Winston?"
"I believe it is a whiskey night, Greg."
Great. He usually caused the most trouble on whiskey nights.
"Well, Jocey. Looks like you've been keeping out of trouble. I was starting to wonder if your skin color was black and blue."
"How's the nose, Del?" Greg asked, causing my cousin to scowl at him. He dumped back the whiskey in front of him and slid the glass right back at Greg.
"Just fine, thanks."
It still looked like it was healing, but it wasn't nearly as sore looking as it had been. Del was obviously ignoring it, but I had seen him twitch when the lip of the whiskey glass touched his nose. If it had been anyone else, I would never have to worry about him bothering me again. But this was Del and by the way he was smiling at me, I knew he had something in mind tonight.
"I've been meaning to look for you. In another ten days, good old Dallas will be eighteen. You ever think he would live that long? We should do something for him. You know how I like milestones to be memorable."
I frowned. I hadn't been sure of the date for a while. I was going by mid-months. And from what I thought I knew it wasn't November yet. Ross was born on the ninth of November. I think my eyes widened when I figured out why Del even brought it up. He grinned wickedly at that and downed another shot before wandering away.
"Jackass," Greg muttered and I ignored him, rounding the bar to follow Del in some attempt to keep him from ruining my life.
Del was watching over his shoulder, making sure I was following along. He waved at something and I was surprised Two-Bit was the one he aimed it at. Two-Bit only frowned back and Del didn't need any more encouragement, if he ever did to begin with.
I knew when he climbed up onto the biggest table in the room I was done for. When I saw Davy come in through the kitchen I knew I was more than done for, if you could get more than done for. The worst part was that there was nothing I could do about it.
"Well, looks like a packed house tonight. Everybody havin' a good time?" Del hollered, getting mostly calls to get off the table from the usual crowd who knew Del.
"Del, please," I pleaded, putting my hand on his ankle to make sure I had his attention.
"Jocey, I'm busy," Del pulled his foot from under my grasp. "You'll have to excuse my darling little cousin. She's just anxious for tonight's entertainment to get rolling."
"Entertainment?" A slurred voice yelled.
"Why yes, my good man. Didn't you know there was a show with your drinks tonight?" Del replied and there was a murmur through the room. "Well, you're in luck because the story I'm going to tell is one hell of a tale."
From the way Del leered at me, I knew exactly which story he was going to share. I was sure he saw the look of terror on my face and took more pleasure from seeing it than anything else he would accomplish tonight.
"Tonight's story is actually about the angel of this fair establishment. Jocey wave so everyone can see you."
"Del..." I tried again, only to be ignored.
"Del, get on down from there," Greg called, but Del ignored him.
"That's right. Miss Jocelyn Winston. Jocey Angel, as our dear old Granny used to call her. And she's an angel alright – an angel of death."
I was sure I was going to throw up everywhere if he kept going. But my frantic screams for him to just shut up were ignored. Maybe they never left my mouth. As it was, the entire room was silent. Del had their attention now, even if they weren't interested before.
"Ah, that gets your imagination going, doesn't it?" Del looked gleeful. "Jocey is followed by death. Granny Winston keeled over right in front of her the day Dal got arrested. Not sure who you should blame there, but that's not the story I want to share. No, this story was a couple months earlier than that."
Del was handed a square object by one of the people who came in with him. He looked at it joyfully for a moment before showing it to everyone in the bar. I think I swallowed my tongue right then, but no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't just pass out and let the rest of the bar get completely distracted by that.
In his hands, Del held a framed black and white picture of a family who died years ago. Five little girls, a dark haired woman with bright eyes, and a blonde haired man whose features I saw daily in Ross. It had been years since I had even thought of them, let alone seen them all together.
"May I introduce my Uncle Jamie, Aunt Seraphine, my cousins Maryanne, Marlene, Samantha, Brianna and of course little Jocey Angel," he pointed to each in turn. "Such a nice family, don't you think?"
"Get on with it!" Someone yelled and Del shook his head in amusement.
"No Del, no, no, no…" I chanted under my breath as Del seemed to get his second wind. I sent a silent plea to Mr. Christ's god that he would just stop. It looked like there was a good reason I had no faith.
"Oh, but now you have a clear picture of how appearances can be deceiving. Now, Uncle Jamie looks pretty respectable, but in reality he was a bit of a drunkard, a bit of an unemployed slob, and a tiny bit unhinged."
All traits that ran in our family. I was willing to bet Del was a little more than unhinged, though. But my father, he had reasons for the way he was beyond genetics.
"Well, he was just unhinged until the night he snapped and killed almost everyone in this picture."
No, he was wrong. Everyone in that picture was dead.
"That's enough, Del." It was Greg again.
"C'mon, Greg. You want to hear this story as much as anyone else."
Greg glared at him and disappeared from behind the bar. One down, the whole room to go…
"No one in our family ever snapped the way Uncle Jamie did. So for years it was all we ever talked about. It was eight years ago tonight when Uncle Jamie comes home with liquor on his breath and a chip on his shoulder. Who knew what had him pissed this time, but whatever it was, he lit into Auntie Sera about it. They "talk" for a while until Uncle Jamie gets fed up with it and puts a bullet in her brain. POW!"
I jumped. Del was grinning like mad.
"I guess he likes the feeling of being in control or something. So he goes down the hall and picks off his daughters one by one until he has one bullet and one daughter left," Del pointed his fingers at me like they were a gun.
I was trembling. The first shot had been more confusing that anything. The second had earned screams; the third was followed by even more terror. The fourth was followed by pleading and sobbing until the fifth shot finally ended all the noise in the house.
"Now, Uncle Jamie has a choice. Put the bullet in the head of his last daughter and face the consequences of what he did, or put a bullet in his own head like a coward. Well, let's just say they spent a lot of time scraping his brains off the walls. And that is why Little Jocey Angel serves you all drinks. Personally, I think she's still waiting for that seventh bullet."
No one spoke and I didn't dare open my eyes. I didn't even know when I closed them in the first place. I heard Del hop off the table and the sound of his boots as he got closer to where I was standing. He got close enough to me so that his hot breath was on my ear and I could feel his smirk as he pressed the picture into my chest, like some sick form of a present.
"Happy Birthday Jocey."
Ok, evil place to leave it - I can admit that, but it had to be done.
Any comments are welcome and flames accepted.
See ya in the funny papers!!!
Tens & Zickachik