Chapter 3 [Drifter's Bar and Grill, Downtown Central City—9:45 PM]
After the sun had settled to its nightly rest, many of the citizens ventured out for their nightly entertainment. Some went to movies. Others caught a fast dinner or a movie. Still more went for a drink to wash their sorrows away wanting to forget about the day at hand.
Of course they didn't know what else would be waiting for them either….
Cisco gulped a lengthy frosty draught from his pint contentedly. He glanced around at the milling crowd. His wanderings had led him away from the familiar coffee joint toward the other side of town and its row of bars. Much as folks might have done in Europe, he engaged in an impromptu tapas run snacking on a few wings at one place, pot stickers at another and, here at Drifter's, the chili was to die for.
Besides he knew a lot of the college girls hung out there.
He leaned back into the booth's cushions; his eyes surveying the throng once again. He'd already played the crowd so to speak. Attempts to charm the fairer sex and hold their interest had admittedly met with eye rolls and brush offs. He fought the urge to just surrender, finish his chili and slink off toward his apartment.
The waitress, a graceful Latina angel with a long dark mane drawn back into a ponytail and gentle eyes, stopped by his table. She offered him a warm smile. "How's the chili, Sir?"
He forced a grin onto his face. "Awesome as always. Thanks. Think I can get another beer please?"
"Of course. Glad you like the chili. Pablo put some extra kick in it tonight. You doing okay otherwise?" she queried.
"Mmm? Yeah. Just dealing with the whole solo thing." He shrugged not knowing why but finding it easier to talk with a stranger than with his friends. "I'm looking for someone. Occasionally I find someone nice and we're together for a while. Then some other guy barges in, sweeps them off of their feet and poof! They're gone." He finished his beer and raised his hands in slow consternation. "Sorry. You probably hear that way too much."
She shrugged. "Si. You're okay, Sir. Sounds to me like you haven't met the right woman yet. She'll come when she's supposed to. Hang in there for what it's worth. I'll go and get your beer." Taking his empty glass, she headed off toward the bar.
He considered her words. It'd be poetic justice if someone swept me off of my feet! For a minute, he allowed himself to fantasize about such a woman. He daydreamt about a blonde wanting to talk with him at the bar and actually being interested in what he had to say. He allowed himself to see them at her home making out before the lights came on. And….
Oh wait….that wasn't just a fantasy….That happened with Lisa….
He rolled his eyes. This just keeps getting better and better! He sucked in an exasperated breath.
The waitress looked at him with concern. "Are you all right? I can call you a cab or something?"
"I'm fine. Thanks for the beer and the friendly ear. I appreciate both," he expressed gratefully.
"My pleasure." She set the tab face down on the table. "Let me know if you need anything else. Meantime enjoy your drink." She headed back toward the bar.
If only all girls could be that nice. Ah well…. He offered a toast in her direction before taking a sip.
Then a loud crash shook him and the others around himself.
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" a familiar voice warned loudly.
The hairs on the back of his neck went up. He set the beer down and slid out of the booth.
By now a scuffle was breaking out.
He shook his head. Nobody's going to hurt her. He remembered seeing the scar and frowned. By now his sorrows were forgotten. He didn't need the rest of the beer, the chili or the small talk.
His lady needed him…..
[Fifteen Minutes Earlier]
Lisa walked into the bar feeling the previous burdens come off of her back. After leaving the rest area, she'd cruised into the downtown Ralston District seeking a social challenge. As with Cisco, she drifted in and out of several other establishments along the strip. Fiona's overly posh clientele might've suited her if she and the Rogues were looking to fleece some victims rather than just escape concerns. Raymond's for some reason made her skin crawl with its seedy paint job and the bugs scurrying along the base boards.
Drifter's, on the other hand, seemed to be more of a genuine bar experience. She approved of the aged and obviously chipped bar and slightly careworn stools. The air smelled of smoky and alcoholic overtones. In addition her nose picked up on both Italian and Mexican cuisine's delicate scents. I definitely need to get some of that! As she slipped through the crowd and toward the bar, she noted the mix of college students and adults of various ages engaged in conversation around the room. From the clothes, hairstyles and jewelry on the folks therein, she knew she had happened on the right place.
She settled on a barstool in the far corner to best stay back and watch the events unfolding around herself. She smirked at some half-drunk geeky type stumbling over himself to gain the favor of a wealthy redheaded knockout. Boy has no chance but he won't let that stop him. She glanced across the bar and could almost see herself in that blonde wig again.
Pardon me but my friends won't leave me alone until I talk to you…
I can't believe Cisco really fell for that. I can't believe I *really* used that line on him. Lenny, you really owe me! She sighed. So am I going to get served around here anytime this century? Her fingers tapped out their impatience in a terse Morse code across the worn bar. She checked her watch noting that she'd already been sitting there for ten minutes without a single staff member coming over. "What the Hell?" She got up from her stool. Fun's fun but there are other places….
As she did so, a sloshed masculine voice slurred through pungent alcoholic fumes, "Heeey, Babe. I'm heeere for ya…."
She curled her lip while trying not to laugh. She turned to find a man mountain looming there. "Yeah right. You want someone else. I'm here by myself."
"Awww….ya think I'm hot. Let's…git it on…" He belched in a disgusting manner throwing whatever toxic stenches from his gut into her face as well.
She ground her teeth. "Okay, Chief. I'm going to say this really plainly. I'm not interested. Take your bad breath and go. Find some bimbo's who's into what you are!" She wormed her way past him in an attempt to get to the door.
His enormous paw clamped around her arm and yanked hard, flinging her back against the bar. "Said not goin' ANYWHERE!"
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" she snapped loudly. Okay. Fun's fun but this is crap! Like I should've *ever* listened to some crackpot on the corner? Yeah right! Get out of here then you can beat yourself up! She tensed and raised her knee fast and hard into the assailant's groin as Cold had shown her to do.
He caved from the assault dropping to the floor. "DAMN! Stupid witch!"
"Keep your paws to yourself," she hissed at him before stomping toward the door. If she wasn't a fugitive, she would've put in a call to Joe West. The irony of that situation made her snort to herself in spite of the mess ruining her evening. Yeah like he'd care? He'd send you to rot in Iron Heights! Why'd I leave the golden gun with the bike? Great going, Lisa, for acting like one of these idiots!
Two more muscular guys—one a redheaded man of Irish descent and an African-American—stepped up next blocking her way out.
"Why'd you have to do that, Honey?" the latter guy slurred. "Richie only wanted some."
"I don't like him or you. Get out of my way," she advised pointedly with an icy glare. When they didn't move after three heartbeats, she shrugged. "Your funeral." She swung a punch with a hard and rapid fist breaking the black man's nose.
Before she could react, Irish broke a bottle over her head. "No, Sweets, it's yours!"
She slumped against the bar. The back of her head bleeding profusely from the impact. Her senses reeled. She slid toward unconsciousness.
"Now we got her and…." Irish sniggered. Then he saw Cisco tapping him on the arm. "Back 'way, Mex. She's w' us."
"Lady's bleeding. She's not with you. She's a friend of mine. Back away," Cisco told the two guys. He put his hand in his pocket to where his cell phone was. He knew Barry would really be ticked at him for ruining the double date. Still an emergency was an emergency. He glanced toward the bar and around at the milling crowd.
"She's by herself the Lass said," Irish disagreed. "Boy like yourself should learn manners."
Cisco chuckled sarcastically as he tensed for trouble. I just want to get away and this is what happens? Bag it. Lisa needs to get out of here! He wondered what she'd said to start the brewing fracas around them.
Seeing the enormous white elephant angrily pulling himself back up to his feet, his eyes went wide. "Shit."
"She's…mine," the drunken man hissed in his pungent clouded tones.
"Doesn't look that way to me," Cisco insisted.
At that moment, the bartender banged a large club against the counter. "All right, you all! Cops are coming. Break it up already!"
"Great," Cisco muttered. He hoisted Lisa back toward a nearby booth. "Anyone have a towel or something? I need to get some pressure on this wound."
"Here," the kindly waitress noted anxiously while handing him a damp terry-cloth white towel and a glass of lemon water. "Is she okay?"
Cisco shrugged. "I can't tell until we get her to a hospital or my lab. Thank you." He wiped down the back of Lisa's head as best he could through the clotted mess of her hair. He glanced down at her and shook his head. "Hell of a way for us to meet up again. You really know how to make an impression on people. You know that?"
He settled into the booth and sipped on the glass in front of himself. While he griped about being alone, now he and the unconscious woman waited for their inevitable run in with the boys in blue. What a wreck this night turned out to be…..