Hayden Maragos (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} hayden_maragos) wrote,@ 2009-05-08 16:02:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Listening
Earlier in the night, the bar was a zoo. A sporting event blasted from two plasma screens, getting the patrons rowdy. A fight broke out around 9pm, and some guy's shoulder busted up the front door. Now masking tape criss-crossed the glass pane, holding it together at the cracks. An employee sweupt ground-up peanut shells, napkins, checkered food wrappers, and beer caps into piles. Cigarette smoke, that much-maligned, illegal substance that was outlawed a few years back, hung in the air unchecked. Nobody cared.
A pair of shoes entered Hayden's field of vision. He lifted his head. When the bartender turned around, he released the death grip he kept on his neck and waved. "Hey... can I get another beer?"
The tender had a decidedly relieved look on his face as he completed the cleanup from the earlier WWE match that had broken out spontaneously over the outcome of some sporting event or another. A slow nod in response to the hail requesting a fresh beer before he made his way behind the bar to pour the requested beverage. A fresh glass was produced from the dishwasher and rinsed in cold water so it wouldn't warm the beer before the patron received it.
Beer in hand, the slightly weary but friendly looking barman returned to the quiet man's table and set the glass in place of the prior one, which he picked up and set aside for later washing. "That be all for you?" Typical question coming from someone who served others for a living.
"Yeah." Hayden curled a big hand around the mug, claiming it like it might vanish. "Thanks, man." He gulped the beer. He wanted a stronger drink, but lately he was too thirsty. Being wasted all the time wouldn't help. He looked up. The lines around his eyes cut deep. "What time do you close up?" If it was in the next twenty minutes, he should order another round now. He could take the el or a cab home, leave his truck overnight. Call in late to work.
Pete flicked his wrist to check the watch he wore there. It showed 12:15 which was actually quite early. "Not for a while yet," came the laid back answer of a native midwesterner. Another patron grumbled at him from the bar and his slightly shaggy head shook back and forth once and again. "Excuse me," came the muttered comment as he went to serve the impatient woman sitting on a stool at the bar. He'd go back to Hayden in a moment, it seemed like the gent might not be quite done for the evening.
Hayden hauled himself into better posture. He checked his cell phone for voicemails, but there weren't any, aside from the saved message from his girlfriend. He listened to it once a day, straining to hear background noise (traffic, construction, music, anything) to try and pick up a clue. Inanely, he thought if it was an old-fashioned tape, he would've worn it out by now. His thumb hesitated over the button.
'Don't dial it again, man.' He just kept thinking, what if that was the last time?
Hayden set it face-up on the table and ate a couple of peanuts. Between the salt and the beer, he probably needed a gallon of water.
Pete finished up with the surly female who had wanted a fresh drink and to close her tab. She hadn't bothered to add a tip, go figure. She'd broken a heel on some jerk's head and was pissed off about it. The barman shrugged and wandered back through the now mostly empty bar, collecting used glasses and bottles from the tables. His tub was soon heavy with glass so he set it aside and returned to the cell phone wielding man's table with a half smile. "Get you some fresh peanuts or something?"
Maybe an ear? He produced a rag and wiped off the table around Hayden's drink and bowl of nuts as he waited for a reply. He thought the younger man was looking a little rough around the edges but who could be sure these days?
"Ahh." Hayden thought about it. He scratched the back of his head, sifting through the long pieces of dirty-blonde. "I think I could use some water," he said. His face relaxed into a sheepish smile. "If I don't switch, I'm gonna feel like reheated piss tomorrow." He still intended to drink the cold one already poured, which he indicated by picking it up. Before the bartender slipped away, he added, "Mind if I smoke in here?"
A low laugh escaped the vocal cords of the man working the bar as he nodded ascent to the water and commented quickly, "I won't tell if you don't." That was in regards to the smoking. Pete didn't indulge it himself, but who was he to begrudge others their pleasure or poison. He slipped back to the bar and got a large glass down off a shelf and scooped ice into it, just about a quarter of the way up before he filled it with water.
He dropped it back by the table with a smile and a half used packet of matches on the off chance the other man failed to have a lighter on him.
"Thanks." After using a match to light his cigarette, he peered at the bartender through exhaled smoke. "Fights like that one earlier... That happen in here a lot?" He was making conversation. Truthfully, he hadn't done much talking in the past few weeks, just mumbled greetings to his roommates and crew members at work, deflected questions when his mom called and gave him a hard time for not flying in for Mother's day. He wondered how Kris's mother was handling her daughter's absence. Selfishly, he thought the family could use a lesson in relying on somebody other than Kris, but he didn't want it to go like this.
Pete shook his head slightly and wrapped four fingers over the top of one of the empty chairs at Hayden's table. "Nope, this is usually a pretty low key joint but last night was definitely a full moon." So they said, a full moon would always wreak havoc on any event or gathering its light fell on. That and the home team taking such a loss, a few fans for the other team had caused what almost became a riot as they gloated for their team.
He aimed one finger at the cell phone on the table, dark and silent. "You must have a pretty good service, mine doesn't work in here." He displayed the aforementioned phone and its total lack of bars on the little screen before it was tucked back into a hip pocket.
That lit a fire under Hayden's ass. He shot forward and checked the display for bars. It had two, enough for a call. Visibly sagging, he rubbed his eyes. "You scared the shit out of me," he said, not unkindly. "Kinda waiting for a call." Praying was more like it. If she got through once, it could happen again. Having now missed two critical phone calls from Kris, he took the cell phone everywhere and neurotically checked it for service. On a construction site, he almost dropped it in the toilet of the portable john. Thank the gods he caught it. In this state of mind, Hayden probably would've stuck his arm down there, without thinking it through.
Pete looked startled at the abrupt reaction his mention of lacking bars brought about in the other man and he straightened up, instinctively drawing back from potential threat. Wasn't that just what you'd expect from a small town guy living in a big city now? He relaxed though as the explanation for the reaction came out. "Must be a very beautiful woman or an extremely lucrative business call to make you panic that way at the idea of no service." His tone was mildly teasing as his hand came back down on the chair back. It was just the two of them in the building now and if the fellow he was talking with didn't need anything then there wasn't anything to do for the time being.
"Yeah. My girlfriend," he said and put down his cigarette. There wasn't an ashtray, so he used an empty fry basket. "I haven't heard from her in a while." It was a loose explanation. Too loose. Hayden didn't know this guy from Adam, but he didn't like making light of the situation, not even to a stranger. "She's missing." He finished his beer and set it down. A few bubbles slid down the side of the glass. "She's beautiful. She can take your breath away."
The glass vanished from the table as the bubbles hit the bottom and created a little golden pool inside. "That's pretty harsh." No suggestions came along with the comment though, this city was known for corruption in the past and who knew what the law was up to these days. One corner of Pete's mouth turned up at the following description of the lady being breath-taking. There weren't too many women that could actually do that to a man, but this guy seemed so serious that Pete believed it.
He glanced at his watch again, 12:40 now. Shaggy hair swayed as he poured himself a glass of Coke and settled on a stool with his back to the bar so he could face Hayden but not be right in his personal space. People didn't always appreciate a nosy bartender so he was just available instead of insistent.
In recent years, technology made printed photographs almost obsolete. Intead of opening a wallet, Hayden tapped through his cell phone menu and came up with a hi-res picture. Kris would've hated the early morning photo; she was newly awake, her hair messy on the pillowcase, but he caught her smiling. He put it across the table, in view of the bartender. If nothing else, it got her face out there.
Hayden drank some water. "Yeah," he said.
What the hell, he figured. Why not paint the whole picture for the guy. "They make these explosive collars," he said, alcohol making his speech a little thick. He gestured at his neck. "You can detonate them by remote control. If you get one of them on somebody, you can make them do whatever you want. It's modern day slavery." He rubbed the short beard on his face. "A vampire put one around her neck. I dunno where she is now."
Pete peered at the offered screen of the phone without touching it. The younger man had indeed been correct in his description, she was an extremely good looking young woman. But also tough came through, even with the morning softness the image captured. He took a sip from his glass, a frown etching deep lines across his forehead and around his mouth as he swallowed the revelation of explosive collars and vampire capture being the reason for the young woman in the photo's missing status.
That was a lot beyond the barman's experience. Sure, he knew the things existed. But he didn't have any contact with any of that underworld that he knew of. "I find myself at a loss for words sir." The words were a little more formal than the tone, which could have been lightly described as bemused. Behind the frown, his mind was working but it was probably of little use to the guy at the table.
"So am I," admitted Hayden. Tiredly, he smiled through his fingers. He picked up his cigarette. "I'm at a loss for a lot. Ideas, patience..." The words broke off as he took a drag. He cleared congestion from his throat. "My roommate's good with technology. We're working on something, but we don't know if it'll work. I keep having these dreams. You know... we fuck it up, the collar explodes and she's still in it."
He shook his head and shifted his weight in the chair. The image tore him up all the time. Hayden got so nervous, his skin crawled. He kept a pack of Rolaids in his pocket and ate four or five a day.
Pete sipped from the glass in his hand, more for something to take up a little time than because he was thirsty. This fellow before him had a heavy load on his shoulders and it was blatantly clear, even without the story backing up the look of weariness on his face. "I sincerely hope that your plan works out the correct way, it'd be truly terrible to lose a life like hers and mar your life with such a loss." He sounded like a damn preacher. The thought almost made him smile, but only almost.
"Not all vampires are wicked, are they?" The barman was just not experienced and he thought perhaps the question might seem overly naive but comic books took bad guys and made them into sort of twisted heroes right? So it could make sense that not all vampires had to be evil.
Hayden looked up, his expression sour. "That's one in a million," he said. Normally, he opened himself up to possibilities. Avery, for instance, was a good 'kid'. But given circumstances, he felt particularly uncharitable towards the undead. Besides, he was a traditionalist, and he still believed this was a simple war. He had trouble looking for gray, when ninety-five percent of the time, the situation was black and white. Good and evil. Right now, evil had his girl locked up with a bomb around her neck.
"It's not worth getting close enough to find out," he said, rounding the tip of his cigarette. "They bite."
Pete stifled a laugh at the double meaning of the final comment that had been offered and nodded at the rest of the sentiment. "I'll take your word for it, I don't really have a hankering to be somebody's dinner." He drank again from the slowly flattening Coke in his fist before cupping both hands around the glass and letting it dangle loosely between his knees as he leaned forward a little. "It's more of a big deal the the government made it out to be?" The sour expression told him Hayden had really lived his life on the side which didn't tolerate what was essentially cannibalism.
"The hospitals incinerate plenty of bodies." Hayden finished his water. It helped his throat, raw from too many cigarettes. He was exhausted, and he could feel the potential of his mood to drag the bartender down, too. He didn't want to do that to the guy, who seemed alright. Hayden got up and pulled a debt card from his wallet, in order to pay his tab.
"Thanks for letting me talk for a few minutes." He handed over the card, stuffing a big tip in the jar while he waited. "I appreciate it." He pocketed his phone.
Pete blinked and shook his head once more with a bemused smile. What an educating night this had been. He set his glass on the bar and accepted the card with a nod. "Part and parcel of being a good bar tender.. Hayden." He took the name off the card and used it with only a little bit of hesitance. He ran the card through the machine and ripped off the resulting receipt for a signature. "Hope that you got a little weight off your shoulders tonight." He offered the second receipt for the other man's records if he wanted. "Come back anytime hm?"
"Thanks..." Hayden turned the receipt over and looked at it. "Pete." He offered a small smile and lifted his hand. Then he ambled outside, leaving his truck keys in his pocket. He'd take public transportation home. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over for swerving across a dotted line.
[NPC Pete was written by Anne]
Earlier in the night, the bar was a zoo. A sporting event blasted from two plasma screens, getting the patrons rowdy. A fight broke out around 9pm, and some guy's shoulder busted up the front door. Now masking tape criss-crossed the glass pane, holding it together at the cracks. An employee sweupt ground-up peanut shells, napkins, checkered food wrappers, and beer caps into piles. Cigarette smoke, that much-maligned, illegal substance that was outlawed a few years back, hung in the air unchecked. Nobody cared.
A pair of shoes entered Hayden's field of vision. He lifted his head. When the bartender turned around, he released the death grip he kept on his neck and waved. "Hey... can I get another beer?"
The tender had a decidedly relieved look on his face as he completed the cleanup from the earlier WWE match that had broken out spontaneously over the outcome of some sporting event or another. A slow nod in response to the hail requesting a fresh beer before he made his way behind the bar to pour the requested beverage. A fresh glass was produced from the dishwasher and rinsed in cold water so it wouldn't warm the beer before the patron received it.
Beer in hand, the slightly weary but friendly looking barman returned to the quiet man's table and set the glass in place of the prior one, which he picked up and set aside for later washing. "That be all for you?" Typical question coming from someone who served others for a living.
"Yeah." Hayden curled a big hand around the mug, claiming it like it might vanish. "Thanks, man." He gulped the beer. He wanted a stronger drink, but lately he was too thirsty. Being wasted all the time wouldn't help. He looked up. The lines around his eyes cut deep. "What time do you close up?" If it was in the next twenty minutes, he should order another round now. He could take the el or a cab home, leave his truck overnight. Call in late to work.
Pete flicked his wrist to check the watch he wore there. It showed 12:15 which was actually quite early. "Not for a while yet," came the laid back answer of a native midwesterner. Another patron grumbled at him from the bar and his slightly shaggy head shook back and forth once and again. "Excuse me," came the muttered comment as he went to serve the impatient woman sitting on a stool at the bar. He'd go back to Hayden in a moment, it seemed like the gent might not be quite done for the evening.
Hayden hauled himself into better posture. He checked his cell phone for voicemails, but there weren't any, aside from the saved message from his girlfriend. He listened to it once a day, straining to hear background noise (traffic, construction, music, anything) to try and pick up a clue. Inanely, he thought if it was an old-fashioned tape, he would've worn it out by now. His thumb hesitated over the button.
'Don't dial it again, man.' He just kept thinking, what if that was the last time?
Hayden set it face-up on the table and ate a couple of peanuts. Between the salt and the beer, he probably needed a gallon of water.
Pete finished up with the surly female who had wanted a fresh drink and to close her tab. She hadn't bothered to add a tip, go figure. She'd broken a heel on some jerk's head and was pissed off about it. The barman shrugged and wandered back through the now mostly empty bar, collecting used glasses and bottles from the tables. His tub was soon heavy with glass so he set it aside and returned to the cell phone wielding man's table with a half smile. "Get you some fresh peanuts or something?"
Maybe an ear? He produced a rag and wiped off the table around Hayden's drink and bowl of nuts as he waited for a reply. He thought the younger man was looking a little rough around the edges but who could be sure these days?
"Ahh." Hayden thought about it. He scratched the back of his head, sifting through the long pieces of dirty-blonde. "I think I could use some water," he said. His face relaxed into a sheepish smile. "If I don't switch, I'm gonna feel like reheated piss tomorrow." He still intended to drink the cold one already poured, which he indicated by picking it up. Before the bartender slipped away, he added, "Mind if I smoke in here?"
A low laugh escaped the vocal cords of the man working the bar as he nodded ascent to the water and commented quickly, "I won't tell if you don't." That was in regards to the smoking. Pete didn't indulge it himself, but who was he to begrudge others their pleasure or poison. He slipped back to the bar and got a large glass down off a shelf and scooped ice into it, just about a quarter of the way up before he filled it with water.
He dropped it back by the table with a smile and a half used packet of matches on the off chance the other man failed to have a lighter on him.
"Thanks." After using a match to light his cigarette, he peered at the bartender through exhaled smoke. "Fights like that one earlier... That happen in here a lot?" He was making conversation. Truthfully, he hadn't done much talking in the past few weeks, just mumbled greetings to his roommates and crew members at work, deflected questions when his mom called and gave him a hard time for not flying in for Mother's day. He wondered how Kris's mother was handling her daughter's absence. Selfishly, he thought the family could use a lesson in relying on somebody other than Kris, but he didn't want it to go like this.
Pete shook his head slightly and wrapped four fingers over the top of one of the empty chairs at Hayden's table. "Nope, this is usually a pretty low key joint but last night was definitely a full moon." So they said, a full moon would always wreak havoc on any event or gathering its light fell on. That and the home team taking such a loss, a few fans for the other team had caused what almost became a riot as they gloated for their team.
He aimed one finger at the cell phone on the table, dark and silent. "You must have a pretty good service, mine doesn't work in here." He displayed the aforementioned phone and its total lack of bars on the little screen before it was tucked back into a hip pocket.
That lit a fire under Hayden's ass. He shot forward and checked the display for bars. It had two, enough for a call. Visibly sagging, he rubbed his eyes. "You scared the shit out of me," he said, not unkindly. "Kinda waiting for a call." Praying was more like it. If she got through once, it could happen again. Having now missed two critical phone calls from Kris, he took the cell phone everywhere and neurotically checked it for service. On a construction site, he almost dropped it in the toilet of the portable john. Thank the gods he caught it. In this state of mind, Hayden probably would've stuck his arm down there, without thinking it through.
Pete looked startled at the abrupt reaction his mention of lacking bars brought about in the other man and he straightened up, instinctively drawing back from potential threat. Wasn't that just what you'd expect from a small town guy living in a big city now? He relaxed though as the explanation for the reaction came out. "Must be a very beautiful woman or an extremely lucrative business call to make you panic that way at the idea of no service." His tone was mildly teasing as his hand came back down on the chair back. It was just the two of them in the building now and if the fellow he was talking with didn't need anything then there wasn't anything to do for the time being.
"Yeah. My girlfriend," he said and put down his cigarette. There wasn't an ashtray, so he used an empty fry basket. "I haven't heard from her in a while." It was a loose explanation. Too loose. Hayden didn't know this guy from Adam, but he didn't like making light of the situation, not even to a stranger. "She's missing." He finished his beer and set it down. A few bubbles slid down the side of the glass. "She's beautiful. She can take your breath away."
The glass vanished from the table as the bubbles hit the bottom and created a little golden pool inside. "That's pretty harsh." No suggestions came along with the comment though, this city was known for corruption in the past and who knew what the law was up to these days. One corner of Pete's mouth turned up at the following description of the lady being breath-taking. There weren't too many women that could actually do that to a man, but this guy seemed so serious that Pete believed it.
He glanced at his watch again, 12:40 now. Shaggy hair swayed as he poured himself a glass of Coke and settled on a stool with his back to the bar so he could face Hayden but not be right in his personal space. People didn't always appreciate a nosy bartender so he was just available instead of insistent.
In recent years, technology made printed photographs almost obsolete. Intead of opening a wallet, Hayden tapped through his cell phone menu and came up with a hi-res picture. Kris would've hated the early morning photo; she was newly awake, her hair messy on the pillowcase, but he caught her smiling. He put it across the table, in view of the bartender. If nothing else, it got her face out there.
Hayden drank some water. "Yeah," he said.
What the hell, he figured. Why not paint the whole picture for the guy. "They make these explosive collars," he said, alcohol making his speech a little thick. He gestured at his neck. "You can detonate them by remote control. If you get one of them on somebody, you can make them do whatever you want. It's modern day slavery." He rubbed the short beard on his face. "A vampire put one around her neck. I dunno where she is now."
Pete peered at the offered screen of the phone without touching it. The younger man had indeed been correct in his description, she was an extremely good looking young woman. But also tough came through, even with the morning softness the image captured. He took a sip from his glass, a frown etching deep lines across his forehead and around his mouth as he swallowed the revelation of explosive collars and vampire capture being the reason for the young woman in the photo's missing status.
That was a lot beyond the barman's experience. Sure, he knew the things existed. But he didn't have any contact with any of that underworld that he knew of. "I find myself at a loss for words sir." The words were a little more formal than the tone, which could have been lightly described as bemused. Behind the frown, his mind was working but it was probably of little use to the guy at the table.
"So am I," admitted Hayden. Tiredly, he smiled through his fingers. He picked up his cigarette. "I'm at a loss for a lot. Ideas, patience..." The words broke off as he took a drag. He cleared congestion from his throat. "My roommate's good with technology. We're working on something, but we don't know if it'll work. I keep having these dreams. You know... we fuck it up, the collar explodes and she's still in it."
He shook his head and shifted his weight in the chair. The image tore him up all the time. Hayden got so nervous, his skin crawled. He kept a pack of Rolaids in his pocket and ate four or five a day.
Pete sipped from the glass in his hand, more for something to take up a little time than because he was thirsty. This fellow before him had a heavy load on his shoulders and it was blatantly clear, even without the story backing up the look of weariness on his face. "I sincerely hope that your plan works out the correct way, it'd be truly terrible to lose a life like hers and mar your life with such a loss." He sounded like a damn preacher. The thought almost made him smile, but only almost.
"Not all vampires are wicked, are they?" The barman was just not experienced and he thought perhaps the question might seem overly naive but comic books took bad guys and made them into sort of twisted heroes right? So it could make sense that not all vampires had to be evil.
Hayden looked up, his expression sour. "That's one in a million," he said. Normally, he opened himself up to possibilities. Avery, for instance, was a good 'kid'. But given circumstances, he felt particularly uncharitable towards the undead. Besides, he was a traditionalist, and he still believed this was a simple war. He had trouble looking for gray, when ninety-five percent of the time, the situation was black and white. Good and evil. Right now, evil had his girl locked up with a bomb around her neck.
"It's not worth getting close enough to find out," he said, rounding the tip of his cigarette. "They bite."
Pete stifled a laugh at the double meaning of the final comment that had been offered and nodded at the rest of the sentiment. "I'll take your word for it, I don't really have a hankering to be somebody's dinner." He drank again from the slowly flattening Coke in his fist before cupping both hands around the glass and letting it dangle loosely between his knees as he leaned forward a little. "It's more of a big deal the the government made it out to be?" The sour expression told him Hayden had really lived his life on the side which didn't tolerate what was essentially cannibalism.
"The hospitals incinerate plenty of bodies." Hayden finished his water. It helped his throat, raw from too many cigarettes. He was exhausted, and he could feel the potential of his mood to drag the bartender down, too. He didn't want to do that to the guy, who seemed alright. Hayden got up and pulled a debt card from his wallet, in order to pay his tab.
"Thanks for letting me talk for a few minutes." He handed over the card, stuffing a big tip in the jar while he waited. "I appreciate it." He pocketed his phone.
Pete blinked and shook his head once more with a bemused smile. What an educating night this had been. He set his glass on the bar and accepted the card with a nod. "Part and parcel of being a good bar tender.. Hayden." He took the name off the card and used it with only a little bit of hesitance. He ran the card through the machine and ripped off the resulting receipt for a signature. "Hope that you got a little weight off your shoulders tonight." He offered the second receipt for the other man's records if he wanted. "Come back anytime hm?"
"Thanks..." Hayden turned the receipt over and looked at it. "Pete." He offered a small smile and lifted his hand. Then he ambled outside, leaving his truck keys in his pocket. He'd take public transportation home. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over for swerving across a dotted line.
[NPC Pete was written by Anne]