It was sometime close to midnight. Weekdays were slow at Hop's and time seemed to always run together on nights like this. It was a grungy old bar that sat just outside the sleepy outskirts of the city. We've all been there; the kind with counterfeit dollar bills stapled above the bar; unflattering pictures of regulars on karaoke Wednesdays scattered above the booths. It was the type of place where town natives have all been to at least once- whether to see a local band or to string along with bar hopping friends.
In the corner sits an antique vending machine dispensing cigarettes that the old timers still used, infrequently, as the younger patrons of the bar stuck with disposable vapes. Stubbs, the owner, insisted on keeping it that way despite his insistence that there be no smoking inside the bar. It made little difference- especially on more humid days, the fifty years worth of tobacco still lingered, a slight whisper through the several layers of paint. It only enhanced the jaundiced atmosphere.
Hop's had character.
The owner was also adamant that the bar stay open until the advertised closing time, despite how much traffic it received. Harper and her coworkers joked that 'Stubbs' must have been short for stubborn.
A heavy rain thrummed the top of the little tin roof. Harper found herself groaning internally, as she eyed the regulars scattered across the bar. A small group of forty-somethings who had been huddled in one of the booths gathered their belongings and closed their tabs before slipping away into the night. One woman, wild curly blonde hair astray and long acrylic claw-like nails , reapplied a layer of chapstick before grabbing her phone and approaching the bar, speech slightly slurred as she followed the rest of her group outside.
Harper watched the door carefully, on the off chance that she would find approaching headlights. Perhaps the usual plumage of restaurant workers relieved of their jobs would waltz in for a cheap beer or two. She had hardly made enough tips to break even.
"-Harper!"
James, a well-known regular, grinned as he picked his teeth with a toothpick. A twenty dollar bill had been slapped on the counter.
"Closing out?" she snatched up the bill before turning to sort through the pile of tabs that had been carelessly tossed in a metal beer bucket.
He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a battered case of Camels and a butane lighter.
"I guess so. 'Should probably hit the road before it gets any worse out there. The truck already needs new tires.
Keep the change."
With a wink and a wave he made his way out the door before she could say thank you.
It was nights like this Harper was grateful Stubbs trusted her to close the bar alone. The tip jar couldn't have had little more than a hundred bucks, and that is barely enough for one person, let alone split between two. Weekends were always better in this line of work.
A few minute-aged men, the last two remaining customers, sat talking amongst themselves as they nursed their drinks. Whatever Monday night football game they were engrossed in went into overtime, and they made bets on the winning team- whoever lost paid the bill.
I could care less who pays as long as the winner knows how to leave a decent tip, she thought to herself as she looked down at her phone.
23:04.
One of the men occasionally looked in her direction, leaning over to whisper something to his friend. The man tried to play off her notice by straightening his plaid hooded jacket, the sleeve catching the saturated bar napkin. She tried to ignore the man. He had been to Hop's before- many times, usually on busier weekend nights. He was well-acquainted with Stubbs, however, she never made enough of an effort to converse with him, and even if she wanted to, she didn't have the time on the nights that the bar was bustling with the weekend crowd. He was known to make inappropriate comments and he never seemed to know when to shut up.
She picked up a lipstick smudged glass that lay in the sink. A drop of cranberry juice sat at the bottom of it, which slid over the rim as she picked it up; a sticky streak stained the translucent skin of her wrist. She rinsed the glass out and sat it in the adjacent sink to be sanitized properly, continuing this with the remaining set of cups, making a mental list of everything that she needed to complete before locking up and retiring to the warm embrace of her bed. Feed Miss Fancy her fat long-haired tuxedo cat; finish that term paper; shower…. Midnight couldn't come fast enough.
A loose strand of hair whipped across her face as a sudden draft rolled through the room. The obnoxious ring of the doorbell snatched her from her thoughts. She muttered a soft "hello" to the newcomer.. He looked as if he was floating as he slowly approached the bar; his shoes didn't even squeak on the slick tile flooring despite the rain that saturated the ground outside. Under his coat, he wore a black sweater. He was trim, his jaw perfectly sculpted. As he let down his hood, she took note of the miraculous neat and dry tuft of hair. A smug smile lit up his face as he took a seat before her; his dark eyes the color of charcoal taking in her form as if he meant to attempt to draw her from memory later.
Harper bit her tongue. She was tempted to ask if he was lost. The man stuck out like a sore thumb, not that she was one to complain.
"Hello." He greeted her; his voice smooth as cashmere.
Her face heated up in response. She had grown used to the usual old regular friend's of Stubbs'; even the young guys that came in on the weekends that she shared classes with at community college.
This type of patron seemed better suited for one of metropolitan bars with overpriced themed cocktails named after locals, where the experience ate up the cost of the bill. The type of yuppie bar you take a date on when you really want to make an impression.
"What can I get for you?"
"A glass of water, please."
She was apparently right on the money in her assessment, even though it yielded no judgement- at least he had manners.
She reached for a bar napkin then proceeded to set the glass in front of him.
"Forgive me, I do not wish to waste your time. I simply came in to get out of the weather. You may start a tab with whatever drink you prefer, if you wish."
It wasn't out of the norm for patrons to offer staff members a drink-which is one thing that Stubb's didn't mind, as long as said drink was consumed after closing time. Hell, on a night like this, she was more than happy to take him up on his offer. Along with the allotted post-shift drink that Stubb's allowed his employees, she might be able to get enough of a buzz to lull her right to sleep later.
"Well, thank you. Your name?"
"Put the tab under Demetri."
She scribbled his name on the stained little notepad, along with said drink- her go-to, Crown Vanilla and Coke. She looked back up. The man eyed her intensely. She suddenly was at a loss at what to do with her hands, which were still stained and slightly raisin-ed from rinsing and sanitizing the leftover glasses.
"May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"
"I'm Harper."
More hushed whispers came from the end of the bar inciting the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. Demetri followed her gaze to the man in the plaid jacket; her discomfort plain as a pikestaff. She fixed her expression. Her mother also said that she had a glass face as a child; it was almost impossible for Harper to get anything past her, mom always knew when she was upset. She was also able to spot a lie before Harper had the chance to open her mouth, which especially sucked when she was a wayward teenager.
She wished that Stubbs would install cameras for the safety of his employees, if not the security of the bar itself. Most of the staff members were women and it was imperative to stay hypervigilant working the closing shift alone.
She took initiative to make casual conversation with her new company in an attempt to distract herself from the two creeps at the end of the bar. She drew a mental blank as she struggled to recall their names.
"You from around here?"
She mentally answered her own question. Of course he wasn't. It was a basic start to a conversation, and she hated small talk.
"I am not. I'm here on a business trip. Do you know the area well yourself?"
She shrugged.
"Eh, somewhat. I moved to Portland about two years ago from out of state. The culture here is… different."
He nodded, but made no immediate response. He appeared to be considering what she had said, mentally flipping a coin over in his head.
"I trust you like it well enough if you've stayed two years."
"Well enough." she repeated.
If by that you mean well enough to stay no contact with family, then yes.
She shoved the thought to the back of her head- she feared the risk of the men across the bar knowing her dirty laundry, and preferred to keep their personal knowledge about her at a minimum. Somehow, this perfect stranger made her less uncomfortable, even though any true crime fan knows well enough that charm doesn't necessarily mean safe. Ted Bundy's face materialized in her head, and she shivered at the thought.
"And what was it that brought you this far from home?"
"Just wanted to get away from home for a while, I guess." She left her answer vague, allowing him to fill in the blanks to her generic excuse, though it wasn't entirely untrue. Dropping out of school to take care of a sick parent who ultimately didn't make it would make anybody want to move states. That wasn't even half of it.
Demetri's gaze softened, the corners of his lips flattened.
She glanced at her phone to check the time. It was twenty minutes to close, ten till last call. She almost hoped that Demetri would outstay Plaid Jacket and his equally unnerving friend, at least long enough that she wouldn't have to worry about being here alone with the two. She started her sidework; wiping the used glasses clean and placing them on the rack to dry.
Meanwhile, she and Demetri shared occasional looks at one other, meeting eye contact before hastily breaking away. Even in the dim lighting she could almost see her reflection bouncing off his formidable black irises.
To her relief, the game the other two patrons had been watching ended, and they closed out. Plaid Jacket- Joel, she read on his tab- paid for both him and his friend and she chuckled to herself, satisfied that he had lost his bet. It was a small petty victory in exchange for the unease that had consumed her.
As they made their way out, she looked to the last remaining person in the room.
And then there were two.
Author's note: Been a while since I wrote a fanfiction, and I realized that there just aren't enought Demetri fanfictions out there, so I decided to write one myself. I do work full time, so I can't say with certainty how often I will update. However, I do have the next few chapters in the works, and most of the story planned out. The next chapter is much longer and will involve more Demetri/ Harper interaction. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!