Читать книгу Nowhere Yet - Edward Inc. Cozza - Страница 4

Grant looked at the woman behind the bar—she was beautiful. Even from across the room, she was quite captivating, her hair black, her skin tanned, but naturally olive in hue, the smile highly powered, all set off by her bright white, crisply starched shirt. She appeared to be in great physical shape, looking like she did something besides mix drinks to be that way. He suspected she was of Spanish, perhaps Mediterranean heritage, maybe both. She was of average height, but her composure and confident aura made her seem taller. What he did know was that he really liked the looks of her. It baffled him that the impression she made came that quickly. He could not remember ever being in a Ritz before, so he was impressed with the décor. He was more impressed with the woman. Maybe it was the woman that made the bar look as fine as it did. He approached the bar, finding a seat. When she spoke, he liked her even more.

“Welcome to the Ritz.”

“Hello.”

“Who am I meeting today?”

“Grant, my name is Grant.”

“Well Señor Grant, I am Isobelle,” she reached across the bar and shook his hand.

Grant could instantly feel the energy when she touched him. This was something new for him. A strong grip, but there was something more than that. There were callouses there, but that was not what he noticed first. What he noticed was more like a vibration. The feeling gave way momentarily, but he felt the energy between them, emanating from her hands, linger in the air.

“Are you all right?” She asked.

“I never know, but why do you ask?” Grant replied. He could feel the chemistry between him and this beautiful woman.

“I can sense that something has happened to you today.”

“Really?” Grant asked, surprised.

“Yes. You have had some … some upheaval in your life today, maybe there is more to come.”

“And you know that how?”

Isobelle quickly changed her demeanor when she realized what she had said.

Grant was stunned by the power he was feeling from her hand, and not just because she was a beautiful woman. It was like the energy of a fast moving stream, with nearly the same calming effect. He tried to look around the room, but he could not. He could not detach his eyes from hers. He stared at her hand for a few moments, and then looked up into her brown eyes. The look in her eyes told him that not only she did she know what had happened to him, but also that she was going to make sure nothing else bad was going to happen while she was around. Her eyes saw more than just folks ordering drinks—they could see into people, and Grant could almost feel her eyes penetrating his soul. This made his ordeal thus far seem almost worth it. She was shorter than she had appeared from the other end of the bar, five-foot-four, maybe five-five, but the way she carried herself made her seem taller. He felt something stir inside him when their eyes met—something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Forgive me.” She let go of his hand, but her smile did not dim.

“Have had sort of a rough patch today, but you probably get that a lot.” Grant turned his head, showing that his neck was stiff, and that it was difficult to do so. He took a seat at the bar.

“Sometimes, but I feel your difficulties are real.” Her gaze was still fixed on him, and she knew he was in pain.

“Car wreck.”

“Yes, I can tell.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You should take it easy.”

“I’m meeting someone, maybe several people today. At least one of them won’t understand, no, make that won’t accept ‘take it easy.’” He brought his head slowly back center, focusing back on the woman behind the bar.

“Well, I understand take it easy, so please relax. I am not that busy, so you can relax here, unless you think you need to go lie down.”

“Nope, this is better.”

“You are meeting friends.”

“You asking me, or telling me?” Grant squinted.

“Could I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, water would probably be a good start, if that is all right.”

“Of course.” Isobelle did not have to reach far for the pitcher, so she kept her eyes on Grant. “You are not from here, but from the looks of you, you have not come far.”

“Meeting this knucklehead friend of mine that has been missing for a while. May be meeting someone else too, that I have been missing for a while.” Grant put his hand up to the side of his head. “How is it you know this about me?”

“Lucky guess. Tell me more.”

“Here from Encinitas, friend has been in some sort of trouble, haven’t seen him in a while, a guy ran a red light and plowed into the side of my truck, that pretty much sums it up. I’ve been in wrecks before. This one wasn’t that bad … except for trashing my truck. Not too happy about that,”

“That is quite a bit. Anything else?” Isobelle placed a coaster on the bar, then a glass of water in front of Grant.

“No.”

“Are you sure? You seem to have more on your mind.”

“Oh, not that I want to talk about.”

The drive and the subsequent wreck upon his arrival did remind him that he didn’t know why more people didn’t just fall victim to the spell of the highway and drive off the road. It was so numbing that Grant wondered why more people didn’t just give in to the angst and ennui that seemed to germinate on that hard, black torrent. Maybe the guy that ran into him had done just that. Maybe he had just had enough. It had been a long time since Grant had been on a road trip, and based on the early results of this one, he was not thinking about scheduling any more anytime soon.

“Well, it is very fortunate you were not injured more severely.” Isobelle continued to watch Grant very closely. “Does anyone know you are here?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that, but probably not.” Grant placed his hand up to his neck, rubbing the back of it, hoping it would ease how tight he was. “You see a loud, obnoxious guy, few inches shorter than me, east coast accent, sort of sandy, dirty colored messed up hair, looks like an unmade bed? Anyone of that description been in here today?”

“I do not believe so, as I would have remembered someone like that. Is he a friend, or relative?”

“He sure as hell isn’t related. Jury’s still out on the friend part. How about a blonde woman, not very tall, in great shape, really good looking?”

“We get a lot matching that description, but none so far today.” Isobelle’s expression hardened slightly.

“Well, I would suppose you do.” Grant slowly brushed back his dark brown hair.

Annie Sims was all Grant could think about. He wanted to see her brilliant smile, her glimmering blonde hair. The anguish he felt at the thought of not being with her was almost more than he could bear. Time had moved so rapidly. Law school, the jobs since he got out of school, the time alone. The thought that nothing was ever going to slow down, that everything would just keep flying past, yet the time he spent alone did not pass quickly. That time just crawled. But the years before, the really good years, the years with Annie, they were fading quickly. He wanted to believe things would be good again. When things were good, there was a feeling they always would be. Now, Annie was gone, jobs came and went, and here he was alone. The thought of seeing Annie again gave him hope that maybe the best had not come and gone for good, but might yet return again. If he could see her, there was hope.

“Are you sure I cannot get you anything else? Something to eat, perhaps?”

“No, but thanks. Is it all right if I wait here? My friend would not think to call the room, but he will think to come here. He might come here and stay here, never make it to his room.”

“Of course, you may stay here as long as you like.” Isobelle smiled.

“A lot worse places to be than a bar.”

“I think so, as well.”

“Kind of quiet in here, I’m OK with that. My friend gets here, we can kiss that goodbye.”

“He does not like quiet?” Isobelle cocked her head to one side.

“Oh, I don’t know if you could say that. Quiet just sort of seems to vaporize when he’s around.” Grant nodded his head very slowly.

“Does he talk a great deal?”

“Something like that.”

“How long have you been friends?”

“Since high school.”

“You are from the same place?”

“No. He’s from back east, but moved west. He sort of wants everyone in the west to know he is smarter than they are.”

“You do not seem like that, so how is it that you are friends, and for so long?”

“Well, believe it or not, he is really smart, and can be pretty funny. I would never tell him that.” Grant made a clicking sound with his tongue. “He’s been in some sort of trouble, and I haven’t seen him in a while. Just have to see how bad he is.”

“I am sure he cannot be that bad.”

“You will probably have to tell me about his trouble, because he’ll probably forget. As for how bad he is, you’ll see.”

Grant leaned back in his chair at the bar, feeling the tightness of his body. His thinking was slow. Lack of sleep the night before, combined with a car wreck, and precautionary pain medicine given at the hospital were not allowing him to function as he would like. He wanted to get out in the sun for a while, but knew Rex would come to the bar, and probably stay there until they hauled him out before he would come outside to look for him.

“Just relax here, I am sure your friend will come along, and that he will not be any trouble. I will be right back.” Isobelle said, walking away and out of sight.

Grant laughed, watching her as she left. He looked around the room. The space was so much larger than the small motel he and Annie had stayed at on their first visit to Palm Springs together. He could not remember how long ago, four years, probably more. The décor of the hotel was so ornate, it reminded him that had he stayed with being an attorney, places like this would not seem so foreign to him. He looked down at the snaps of his western shirt, at his hands resting on the knees of his blue jeans, down to his cowboy boots, then back around at the adornment of the furnishings of the room. He leaned, looking at the arms of the chair he was sitting in, then back around the room. He was clearly out of place, dressed in his cowboy attire, surrounded by luxury. It had been a long time since he had been in any place remotely this nice, and that was back when he and Annie were together. He was having a difficult time determining which was nostalgia and which was automobile accident, thinking his life not dissimilar to the wreck. He could hear a commotion around the corner that seemed to be coming his direction, just like everything else.

“You probably just called me a sonofabitch,” the commotion yelled across the hotel lobby. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Your ears burning?” Grant saw an unkempt figure with sandy dirty-colored messed up hair, just short of six feet tall, waddling briskly, which was Rex’s way. Grant stood up, slowly, carefully.

“It’s been a long time. Look at you, still dressing like a goddamn cowboy. I never thought I would say this, but it’s great to see your sorry, skinny ass!” Rex said, throwing his arms around his friend.

“Been a while. Easy there.”

“Still a talkative bastard. What’s the matter, what happened now?”

“Some bastard ran a stop light and plowed-into me.”

“Shit!”

“No, but it’s a wonder I didn’t.” Grant tried not to laugh at his own joke.

“Damn, that sucks.”

“At least I’m still above ground. And this is the first time I had ever had a police car take me somewhere I actually wanted to go.”

“Still above ground, and didn’t mess yourself … always the wit. What’s a guy got to do to get a drink around here?” Rex asked, loudly.

“I would think the usual way, though it’s a possibility that here they may they do it by telepathy.”

“That’s why I picked this place, ’cause you’re too goddamned dumb to fucking ask for stuff, so they just do it for you. Maybe we can throw everybody but the good looking women out of the place, and close the doors ’til Sunday, what’d ya’ say?”

“Might want to let somebody in later….” Grant said.

“Oh, right, food, good thinking. Man, that sucks about the wreck. How’d the other guy fare?” Rex had his arm around Grant.

“I think they hauled him in. You want to put that bag up in your room?” Grant said, motioning to Rex’s bag.

“Nah, get one of the guys,” Rex looked around for one of the staff passing by until he made eye contact, pointed at the bag, took money out of his pocket and waved it just above his waist. He pointed to the bar. “They’ll get it, they always do.”

“Still an ambitious bastard, aren’t you.”

“I love that western talk. You know how long it’s been since I heard anybody talk like you?” Rex smiled.

“Decades?”

“Seems like it. Probably a couple years, for sure. Nobody in LA talks like that. They talk like, ah, you know, ah, like totally, really—”

“Like really not like you?” Grant said.

“Precisely! Everybody should talk like me. There would be less wasted time, more time to get on with things.”

“Not to mention complete clarity.”

“Exactly!”

“You look pretty good for a hermit. Let’s get the ball rolling in this nice bar and see what they’ve got. Oh boy, and a pretty one back there to bring us the medicine!” Rex said, noticing Isobelle emerging from the back room behind the bar. “Do I know how to pick ’em, or what?”

“I might not need any medicine.” Grant scratched his head.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Isobelle approached them.

“She’s talkin to me,” Rex said, looking at Grant, then back to the woman.

“Obviously not, or she would have said ‘dipshit.’ ”

“Better let me take this one, you’ve undoubtedly been through an ordeal, so would hate to see you fuck this up from the get go.”

“Said Prince Charming.”

“Damn straight.” Rex turned to the bartender. “Hello there! You must be the owner, because someone as good looking as you are would not be working here.”

“Welcome to the Ritz. If I owned the Ritz-Carlton, I would most certainly not be working behind the bar. I see you are either looking for free drinks or a job. You must be the friend.”

“Every day of my life. The ‘free drinks’ part, anyway.”

She looked at Grant, he shrugged his shoulders.

“You are so sweet,” the woman said, still looking at Grant, talking to Rex. “I’m pretty sure we are not hiring, but the free drinks are up to me. I think I will give one to the quiet one here.” Isobelle smiled at Grant.

“What about me?” Rex pleaded.

“Can you keep quiet?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, we should run a little test and I will tell you how you do. What can I get you?”

“I’d love something with tequila, if you please, ma’am.”

“Oh, shit,” Grant said, putting his hand up to his head.

“I think that’s a good starting point, don’t you?” Rex turned to see the hotel staffer he had flagged down to get his bag. “Oh, good, here, thanks chief. Name on the room is Schmidt, Rex Schmidt.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of money that looked like each bill had been wadded up individually before it was wadded up with the rest. He found a ten dollar bill and gave it to the staffer.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You got it, chief. Don’t be going through that, I think there’s dirty clothes and my pet wolverine in there, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The staffer looked at Rex, not knowing what to say.

“I’m kidding.”

“All right, sir.” The staffer turned to leave.

“It’s not a wolverine, it’s a badger.”

The staffer stopped walking, looked down at the bag he was carrying, then walked away.

“So, where were we?” Rex turned back to Grant & Isobelle. “Something about telepathy? How am I doing? I’m Rex, by the way.” He held out his hand.

“You are the friend. I have heard about you.” Isobelle shook his hand. “Your friend has had a difficult day, and says he needs some quiet. As for you, the troubles you have are not yet over. You still have a ways to go yet. As for right now, you are taking a test … a test to see how quiet you can be today,” Isobelle said, laughing at him.

“A test? This yokel here put you up to that? How do you know about my troubles? Are you working for the government?”

“Remember, you are taking a test. It’s nice to meet you, Rex,” she said in a whisper, then let go of his hand. “And no, I am not working for the government.”