Outbursts and prophecies

Under the dim lights coming from lamps on ceilings and walls, the bar crowd was immersed in a series of worlds that sometimes intersected. Some of them enjoyed their solitude with fine cocktails; others awaited the arrival of friends and/or work colleagues; and the rest, already settled in well-defined groups from one end of the room to the other, passed the time between sips and rumors. Three waitresses came and went among them, taking or delivering orders before returning to the bar and enjoying, if luck smiled on them, a few moments of respite.

This was the Saarinai, one of the world’s most famous bars and the jewel of Dirkenhall. Known for its modern, avant-garde aesthetic, it combined immaculate tables, comfortable seating, a gleaming tiled floor beneath spotless walls, and a ceiling that at times shone like newly polished metal. Open every day from 3 PM to 1 AM, its bar and tables were frequented by the most important people in the city, from executives of large companies to media figures, including some renowned socialites. One of them, having finished her fruity cocktail, paid, stood up from the bar and left — this was just the first of many stops in a fantastic evening.

Enjoy, Mrs. Rawlins, one of the bartenders told her.

Thank you, sweetheart, she replied. Never forget I love you all.

As soon as Rawlins disappeared through the door and into the street, another customer slammed his empty glass against the bar in a sweeping gesture. It was his way of saying he was ready to ask for the bill and preferably quickly, for he was always pressed for time.

Bring that here, Arby, he said to a man of about his same age. How much do I owe you?

Let’s see, the guy called Arby made a few mental calculations. A Martini and a Screwdriver — that’d be 28 and 20.

29 and 10, you mean, the other bartender corrected him from his side of the counter. Both drinks are 14 and 15, not to mention you haven’t even taken your tip into account. Do I really have to tell you how to do your job, you old fox?

Arby didn’t answer, merely looking at his co-worker with a somewhat suspicious expression. Inwardly, however, he admitted he was right, and made the adjustment before passing the card reader to the hurried customer.

You’ll have to forgive me, he apologized. Joseph has always been too much of a by-the-book guy, and that includes every last penny.

Why are you apologizing? the man used his contactless card to settle his debt. You should congratulate him for that instead of complaining. In my line of business, confusion always arises over final amounts, something almost tragicomical considering the era in which we live. Never underestimate the power of a quick mind, whether in a bar or in dealings with other countries.

The beep of a successful credit card transaction sounded. Arby retrieved the reader and left it under the bar, simultaneously obtaining the receipt to hand to his patron.

We’re all set, then. Thanks for your visit, Mr. Dowding.

A pleasure, as always, replied Dowding. Of course, no need to tell my wife that because...

Dowding let out a laugh that echoed all the way to the front door. Except for Arby and Joseph, no one else took notice. Just then Sanya, one of the waitresses, arrived with another order to serve.

Two special cocktails, well iced. Oh, and a Virgin Primavera with extra fruit and grenadine, she recited, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. Goodness, am I tired!

If we aren’t tired, it means we haven’t done things right, Joseph countered succinctly. Will you take this one, Arby? I still must dry these recently used tableware and glasses.

No problem, said the old man, sending any hints of resentment or payback down the drain. I’ll have this ready in four or five minutes.

Thanks, Arby, Sanya smiled warmly at him. I’ll go get a glass of water while you take care of this.

What about Luna and Mara?

Mara went to the restroom three minutes ago, but Luna didn’t go with her. In fact, she’s still trying to get rid of the guys at table 10 for reasons I still don’t fully understand, Sanya pointed over there and sighed. Why do we always attract weirdos?

Don’t worry, I’ll throw them right out of here should their idiocy rise to dangerous levels on our meter, said Joseph while drying a set of tall flute-like glasses.

End of conversation. Sanya stepped away for a moment to catch her breath and Arby, the old bartender, dug into his stock of fine liquors to prepare the required cocktails. Today’s special, which changed regularly at the Saarinai, was the Hurricane — seven parts vodka, three parts mineral water, and fruit syrup of the customer’s choice, all garnished with crushed ice and a wedge to match the thicker liquid.

Joseph, meanwhile, was picking up the dishes without looking at them while his eyes were still locked on table 10. Luna, the senior among the bar’s waitresses as far as age was concerned, looked caught up in an irony with the idiotic patrons who surely had downed one too many drinks. Despite her short height — barely 164 centimeters — she had a terrible temper when angered and was the bar’s unofficial bouncer. What the younger bartender couldn’t understand was how the hell she managed to resist unleashing her fury and unceremoniously throwing out that trio of lads with too much money in their checking accounts...and no judgment in how to spend it.

Arby finished mixing the drinks and placed them on a silver tray, also adding a small bowl of chestnuts and garlic fries to stimulate thirst. Sanya then came back, picked up the order, and winked at the veteran before heading to table 14. Down low, she also had part of her eyesight set on number 10.

Quite a beauty, isn’t she? said Arby out of the blue.

Excuse me? Joseph received with slight displeasure an interruption that almost made him drop a small plate.

Come on, you know what I’m talking about, the veteran insisted. Think of that ancient statue-like figure; a face that many a runway model would love; and that gracefulness she has when walking. If I dare say it, our young colleague is a monument to female perfection.

And you say that while still married, don’t you?

Split up, son, corrected the other bartender. I split up. Unlike other fathers who pretend to not know anything about their obligations, I’ve never failed to provide for my children, much less for Corinne.

That’s the bare minimum. Who’d want to be slapped with the ‘alimony debtor’ label for the rest of their life? Total absurdity.

You should stop looking at existence through such absolute prisms, Joseph. I’d expect that from someone older than me instead of you, who’s barely 25 and has a whole world ahead of him.

This one’s enough for me, the young man left the plate aside and moved his arms to encompass the whole ambiance. My life is here — and I’m fully satisfied with it.

Never say never, son. Things can change when you least expect it.

Those are old men’s tales.

Hey, I’m not that old! Arby disliked being called out on his elder statesman status. Just so you know, kiddo, life only begins at 50. Why, you’re just a baby.

Weren’t we talking about Sanya’s beauty? Joseph turned the tables around like a maestro. If you want to know my opinion so we can settle this matter once and for all, old fox, he emphasized the last two words, I’m attracted to her positive and pure attitude towards life, as well as her honesty and efficiency when it comes to work, rather than her physique. Both are uncommon qualities and that only makes them more valuable. The essential, my dear Arby, is invisible to the eyes, or so an old proverb from Jurissa used to say.

Don’t tell me you like her.

Not at all. You know I’m not exactly boyfriend material.

You never know, Joseph. You never know.

Just as the younger bartender was about to make use of his right to reply, he noticed another woman, this time slightly older and elegantly dressed, come through the front door. Everyone’s attention was focused on her for a moment, magnifying a clear disturbance threatening to overwhelm her. She reached the bar by instinct, sitting down opposite Joseph in a flash before staring at him.

Serve me whatever you like. And make it double, she ordered. You’ll get a good tip if you don’t ask any questions.

As you wish, ma’am, replied the young man.

Miss, dearie, she corrected him. Miss.

As Arby had done moments ago, Joseph opened the cupboard below his bar section at once, extracting a bucket overflowing with ice and a fine bottle of champagne from Delara, a country famous for its coastal vineyards. He rotated it between his fingers two to three times to stimulate it a bit and got hold of a newly washed glass which almost gleamed under the lamplight. He allowed himself a break to watch for a brief second as Luna, now depleted of all her patience, grabbed the idiotic customers by their collars and unceremoniously tossed them to the floor. Once again everyone’s eyes, except for the bartender and his new customer, were fixed on the scene.

Pay your bill and get outta here right this instant! roared the waitress. I won’t repeat myself!! And woe betide you if I see you here again!!!

If it weren’t for Arby practically leaping over the bar — exhibiting unusual agility for a 50-year-old man — to restrain his colleague, blood from noses and gums might have stained the spotless floor. Mara and Sanya decided to do their own part, reprimanding the men while helping them to their feet.

I deeply regret you had to witness that, Joseph apologized. We have the misfortune of dealing with ridiculous customers who make a fuss every now and then.

Never mind that, the woman replied categorically. Nothing can be worse than what’s happening to me — not even the outbursts of nouveau riche folks with too much time on their hands and too little brains.

Well said. Please stand by a moment. I’ll have your order ready right now.

The young man placed the bottle in the ice bucket to keep it as cold as possible and then focused on another one filled with aromatic, delicious syrup. He smiled upon seeing the label of his favorite brand of cassis liqueur, extracted from wild blackcurrants that grew all over the continent far north. Joseph computed a measure and poured it into the glass container without even spilling a drop, then topped it all up with eight parts champagne. Leaving physics to do its work, the golden liquid turned into a much more attractive reddish color, now ready to be placed in front of his counterpart.

Served, miss. Hopefully, this Kir Royal will do you good.

Thank you, sweetie, she gifted him a small smile before downing the drink in one gulp. Ah, that was great! Make me another one, okay?

If you wish.

Of course, kid, the woman returned to her depressed voice she’d shown in the early stages. I’m going to be here for a while, so you’ll have to listen to me. That will be reflected in your tip.

Miss, I’d listen to you even if you didn’t leave me a single penny, Joseph spoke with utter honesty. I noticed you were upset as soon as I saw you come in, so I decided to give you something moderately stiff.

He stood silently waiting for his patron to either lash out at him or slap him in the face. Ten, fifteen, then twenty seconds passed, but nothing of the sort happened.

You serious? the woman asked in disbelief.

I can’t lie, miss, Joseph replied while preparing another serving. It’s necessary to face the truth head-on in this business, no matter how unpleasant it may be. That’s the reason why my colleague just threw the three idiots at table 10 out of the premises.

You’re so cute, the woman’s motherly instinct seemed to appear. I’ve never met a bartender who said that, and I’ve visited many a bar in my 40 years of life.

Many?

At least a hundred — Delara, Jurissa, Sigmanier, Skudra, Moesa, the Alei Islands. Travelled a lot, you know?

Beyond our horizons as well? Joseph’s curiosity was suddenly piqued.

Haven’t had the fortune yet, but hope to do it sooner rather than later, she drank her second Kir Royal in one gulp, just like the first. Life is for living it, right? I’m only 40 years old and yet—

Once again, a mood swing came crashing down on her, causing her to grab her glass by the neck with two fingers and fidget with it in the manner of a child and her favorite rattle. Joseph took advantage of this intermission to take a look at the woman. He knew her age, true, but her appearance was that of a lady eight or nine years younger. Her smooth, lightly tanned complexion was perfectly matched by short, straight black hair combed back by her own fine hands. The femme had thin lips, a slightly upturned nose, and blue eyes evoking the planet’s polar regions. She wore a short-sleeved dress, reaching to her knees and with slim shoulder pads — definitely well fitted to a healthy physique maintained by proper exercise and diet. Her black shoes were of fine patent leather.

I’m so disgraced, the patron suppressed a sob. Remember when I told you I wanted to talk?

Perfectly. Tell me what you want, and I’ll listen carefully. How about another Kir Royal?

Give me something without alcohol because I don’t want to get drunk and leave you with a half-finished story. Got any grenadine? she suggested.

Our supply ran out a couple of hours ago, admitted Joseph. However, I can whip you a glass of spritz and cherry syrup. Will it do?

Perfect! the woman clapped once.

Spritz, stored in metal bottles and chilled on par with champagne, was a Saarinai specialty — concentrated essence of sweetened lime mixed with mineral water and mint to enhance its aroma and flavor. Its light, refreshing consistency made it perfect to enjoy with abundant ice or as an ingredient in other well-crafted cocktails. Joseph always had the habit of inhaling its scent when opening a new bottle, letting the citrus and sweet aromas stimulate his mind for what he still needed to do. Before preparing what was already the third order for the woman in the dress, he left the opened bottle of champagne in Mara’s hands for her to take to table 16, where a wedding anniversary celebration was underway.

It still has about 90 percent of its total capacity, he told his colleague.

It’s a five-pound loss, calculated the waitress. Something insignificant in the grand scheme of things. How are things going with that woman, by the way? she whispered.

So far so good. Tell Arby he can keep the rest of the tips, because this could go on for a long while.

Copied and acknowledged, dear, Mara winked an eye at him. Enjoy your moment alone.

I think some of Arby’s reasoning regarding my sentimental situation has rubbed off on her, Joseph thought with a faint sigh. How many times have I told them that I can manage on my own just fine?

With no further intention of keeping the lady in the dress waiting, he poured her glass of spritz and cherry as well as placing several paper napkins within her reach.

Here I am, miss, he stated. What am I good for?

To listen to me, young man, she replied with a much larger sigh. As I told you before, I thought that at 40 years old I’d seen it all, but not even all the lessons I received prepared me for the event that knocked on my door this morning. I’m from Dirkenhall, just like you and the vast majority of people surrounding us in this bar, but I’ve always had the impulse to travel and see all our world has to offer. Ten years ago, on one of my first trips out of the country, I met a fantastic man in every way — attentive, attractive, great both in his work and in love. His name was Laine Bowyer, originally from Skudra but living in our city for business reasons. As you might have guessed, we hit it off immediately, exchanged contact details, and after a couple of months we had a more-or-less formal relationship. In addition to our love for travel, we shared a passion for music and art; I can hardly remember how many exhibitions or concerts we must have attended together, either here or there.

Sounds like glory, said Joseph.

Then it sounded, smelled and tasted like glory, sweetie. For nine wonderful years, which I considered the best of my life, I mastered his world as he merged with mine. We did everything that’s supposed to be done — meeting each other’s parents and eventually our families; vacationing in the countryside or mountains; parachuting out of a plane or bungee jumping; even making wedding plans. I admit right away that the marriage urge was stronger in me than in Laine, but I thought that with a little more time I’d soften him up enough to settle down and start a nice family. I love kids, you know?

You do?

Of course! exclaimed the woman, sipping some of her cocktail. I was always an only child, so it weighed on me not to have siblings to play with. My plan was to be surrounded by several children whom I could love and mold according to the precepts shared by Laine and me, another sigh. Everything changed, though, ten or eleven months ago.

Changed?

It happened at one of these parties organized by large companies. This one, in particular, was to welcome new employees to the firm. Laine is a drone specialist working for ArmaCore, a company known for its compact and efficient designs. Everything was going swimmingly until someone showed up and, as soon as he made eye contact, left him as cold as he did me. It was Ryan Hawke, an old acquaintance of my boyfriend with whom, as Laine told me, he had a series of quarrels in the past that they resolved somewhat satisfactorily. They hadn’t seen each other in almost ten years, and he chatted animatedly with both of us, although Laine lost all spirit, and we ended up returning home long before the end of the party.

Was this guy by any chance a lowlife or something? asked Joseph, trying to rule out the worst-case scenarios right away.

Quite the opposite, my dear. Mr. Hawke turned out to be a perfect gentleman in every sense of the word: cordial, attentive, always ready to lend a hand with whatever we needed. You could say he was almost cast in the same mold as Laine. What I couldn’t understand was why my beloved was so uncomfortable in his presence, she sipped a bit more. I asked him many times, but he always refused to answer. Then he became irritable, started coming home after hours, and on a couple of occasions intoxicated himself with alcohol. Did he drop by here, by any chance?

"I doubt it, miss. The Saarinai is quite selective with its clientele and, as you may have seen with the case of the hoodlums we ejected earlier, we reserve the right of admission. Also, Laine Bowyer is an unusual name, so the proverbial gun would’ve jumped immediately had he walked into this bar over the last seven years, which is how long I’ve worked here," Joseph clarified.

I can rest a bit at ease, then, the femme closed her eyes, trying to fine-tune her memories. Where were we...? Ah, yes! Laine, as I mentioned, had a remarkable change of mood and his secretiveness ended up becoming unbearable. Two months ago, we had a terrible argument in which we nearly ended hitting each other. As a result, and due to a state of paroxysm, I ended returning to my mother’s house to detoxify myself.

So, you broke up with him then?

No, I didn’t. Part of me still loved him passionately and hoped he’d come to his senses and tell me what was wrong. The other side, colder and more rational, started connecting the dots quickly and figured out that Ryan Hawke had something to do with all this. I decided to enlist the services of a private detective because I have a full-time shift at work too and can’t go around playing tag, so to speak. Set me back 600 pounds an hour, but it was money incredibly well spent. Guess what he found?

Was Mr. Bowyer being extorted, receiving death threats, or something similar? Joseph put another card on the table.

Not by a long shot, sweetie! the woman raised her voice without alarming anyone else. The tracking operation showed me, in a detailed report with photos and audio files obtained through a laser microphone, that Laine and Ryan Hawke...had been a couple for at least 14 years! At that instant I felt like I was being sucked into a black hole and disintegrated. Everything, everything we experienced together, from trips to family gatherings to romantic candlelit nights, turned out to be a sad lie. If the high-resolution images of the two kissing by the lake in Mallinkrodt were already a punch to my gut, their own words all but revealed their perversity. For Laine it was nothing more than a challenge, an insane bet made with Ryan to see if he could sustain a two-way relationship. And he succeeded for almost a decade, the son of a bitch!

Out of sheer indignation, the woman hit the countertop with both fists, choking back a wince of pain and asking, with a glance, that the young man make her another glass of spritz and cherry.

Mr. Bowyer swings both ways, then, concluded Joseph. Sexual orientation is something strictly personal and has been for a long time.  Everyone is accountable for their actions, but why would he toy with your feelings like that, miss?

Behind that mask of perfect gentlemen, Laine and Ryan are nothing but a pair of sadists, she huffed. Turns our Mr. Hawke, the woman grimaced, was also running around with another woman while Laine did the same with me. Since he, according to the detective’s recordings, broke up a year earlier with his victim, my ‘oh-so-perfect’ boyfriend, who’s nothing more than an asshole of the worst kind, won himself a 20,000-pound jackpot and a trip, surprise surprise, to the colony of Doa, on Duverna. In another cruel twist of fate, that was the first place outside the globe I longed to go with him when we could.

I’m really sorry, he removed the empty glass from sight and handed her more napkins. I deeply regret that you had to draw such a sour card from the deck.

Why are you sorry, sweetie? she countered. You aren’t to blame for my woes.

I know, but what they did to you is utterly deplorable, the barman insisted. I understand now the root of your agony, of your annoyance, of that irrepressible anger that cries out for a well-deserved retribution.

I’ll get my retribution indeed, the woman laughed after downing her second non-alcoholic cocktail. They both think I don’t know anything, but the full weight of my wrath will fall on them without warning – I’ll summon them to my apartment and tell them everything before bringing the news to my own clan. My parents were practically salivating at the prospect of having Laine as their son-in-law, so this reality check will be as hard a blow as the ones I’ve received myself.

What about the Bowyer family?

Ah, now that’s gonna be a fireworks festival, she laughed again, her spirits now recovering. I don’t know if they have any idea of Laine’s sexual orientation or even accept it, but what they won’t tolerate is all the fuss he’s made alongside Ryan Hawke. The Bowyers are strongly traditional, and as they explained to me when I visited their estate in Skudra, their ways were initially forged in the days when that wretched nation called Aitzia still existed.

That’s 500 years at a minimum, said Joseph, remembering a few things from his history lessons. By any chance were they—?

They were on the right side, my dear, the woman interrupted. It’s the only one worthy of existing. Our ancestors took care of that at the right time.

That’s a relief, then.

Joseph cleared away the dirty glasses and plates — the woman also eagerly munched on some chestnuts and salted peanuts — and left the automatic dishwasher running after pressing a couple of buttons. He then returned his gaze to hers, awaiting further instructions.

Could you please give me the bill? she asked. It’s been a long day, and I want to go home because those gates will be stained with traitorous blood as of tomorrow.

I wish you every success in your endeavor, miss, he picked up the payment terminal and made a quick calculation. Two Kir Royals and two spritz-and-cherry cocktails are worth a grand total of 46 pounds, or 50 and 12 if the 10-percent regular tip is included.

Charge me a hundred and keep the change, said the woman in the dress.

Eh...? Really...?

Yes, sweetie. the black-haired woman smiled for the first time in what felt like an eternity. You did what no one else could — you helped me to re-examine my sorrows and lessen them with an attentive ear and exquisite cocktails. You deserve a good reward for that.

She swiped the reader from her counterpart, corrected the amount in two seconds, and then used her card. The beep typical of all successful transactions sounded again, although it was quickly drowned out by the bustling conversations flooding the bar.

All done, she said. Thanks once again for being such a nice boy. Before I go, please answer two questions for me.

If it’s in my power to help you—

Don’t be so conditional, sweetie! the ingested alcohol was already working its magic on the 40-year-old woman. This is without taking off your clothes, so you can rest even easier.

She took a deep breath before continuing. Got someone special in your life?

No, miss,