ago?”
She looked at me like I was incredibly stupid. “Fake ID,” she said, and stuck out her lower as she exhaled blue smoke toward the ceiling.
I wondered whether she meant they faked being younger then or older now. I suspected Patty had not even been twenty-one.
“Do you still know anybody over at Harbor House?”
She watched the smoke curl off the end of her cigarette, and a slight smirk of a smile passed across her face. “Yeah, I still know ’em over there.” She turned to face me. “It’s no place for somebody like you.”
Her eyes shifted to focus on something over my shoulder then she jerked her head to the side suddenly, as though she’d been slapped by an invisible hand. “Fuck,” she muttered at the floor, all the bravado suddenly gone, and she looked like a scared kid for a brief moment.
I looked behind me, across the restaurant, in time to see the muscular Latino bouncer lowering his arms to his sides and attempting to assume a very casual-looking pose at the door. His shades were pushed to the top of his head, balancing atop the stiff hair spikes. He glanced at us out of the corner of his eye and quickly looked away.
Alexis continued to hurl a barrage of curse words at the floor, then bit at one of her purple nails. She looked up finally and stuck out her chin defiantly. “You done?” The cigarette she held in her right hand was trembling slightly.
“Can you think of any reason why somebody would have wanted to kill Patty?”
“Shit, who needs a reason? Hey, look, it was just her time. When your time’s up, it’s up, and there’s not shit you can do about it.” Her eyes went unfocused again as she glanced over my shoulder and then lightly touched the bruised side of her face with the two fingers that held the burning cigarette. Suddenly she stood and stubbed out the butt in a plastic ashtray. “I gotta get back to work.”
Teenie reached across the bar and patted the back of my hand. It was an odd gesture, comforting in a motherly sort of way.
“What was that all about?”
“Don’t mind her. It wasn’t nothing. She acts that way ’round everybody. Thinks ’cause she’s had a hard time of it, it gives her the right to be rude. She’s too young to realize that everybody’s got a story, not just her.”
I watched Alexis walk across the floor, then turned back to the bartender. “Thanks, Teenie.” After paying for my beer, I headed for the door. Alexis had tossed off her robe and taken the empty stage. She was facing the far side of the room, as though deliberately avoiding the bouncer’s gaze. I had intended to look him straight in the eye on my way out, but there was something about him, about his dark shades, that made me change my mind. Lowering my eyes as I walked out into the blinding sunshine, I felt as though I’d been challenged, and lost.
VII
I'd first heard of Harbor House when I was working as a lifeguard on Fort Lauderdale Beach over two years ago. The lifeguards took to the towers at nine o’clock every morning, and we often found people sleeping inside our posts. Usually they were winos, homeless men, most of whom we knew because they were regulars along the beach. We’d roust them, chew them out, explain that they weren’t supposed to sleep on county property. The thing that bothered me the most was when they peed in the towers. I mean, there you have a whole wide beach, nobody can see you from the street at night if you go down by the water’s edge, but no, they’d pee in a corner of the tower, and I’d have to sit there all day as the hot sun cooked up an intense, pissy smell.
A couple of years ago, on a morning two days before Christmas, a cold front passed through overnight, and the temperature dropped down into the low forties. I wore sneakers with two pairs of socks, a heavy sweat suit, and gloves. I’d brought my little pocket set of watercolors to pass the time. The shades of green and gray found in a windswept sea were always the
She looked at me like I was incredibly stupid. “Fake ID,” she said, and stuck out her lower as she exhaled blue smoke toward the ceiling.
I wondered whether she meant they faked being younger then or older now. I suspected Patty had not even been twenty-one.
“Do you still know anybody over at Harbor House?”
She watched the smoke curl off the end of her cigarette, and a slight smirk of a smile passed across her face. “Yeah, I still know ’em over there.” She turned to face me. “It’s no place for somebody like you.”
Her eyes shifted to focus on something over my shoulder then she jerked her head to the side suddenly, as though she’d been slapped by an invisible hand. “Fuck,” she muttered at the floor, all the bravado suddenly gone, and she looked like a scared kid for a brief moment.
I looked behind me, across the restaurant, in time to see the muscular Latino bouncer lowering his arms to his sides and attempting to assume a very casual-looking pose at the door. His shades were pushed to the top of his head, balancing atop the stiff hair spikes. He glanced at us out of the corner of his eye and quickly looked away.
Alexis continued to hurl a barrage of curse words at the floor, then bit at one of her purple nails. She looked up finally and stuck out her chin defiantly. “You done?” The cigarette she held in her right hand was trembling slightly.
“Can you think of any reason why somebody would have wanted to kill Patty?”
“Shit, who needs a reason? Hey, look, it was just her time. When your time’s up, it’s up, and there’s not shit you can do about it.” Her eyes went unfocused again as she glanced over my shoulder and then lightly touched the bruised side of her face with the two fingers that held the burning cigarette. Suddenly she stood and stubbed out the butt in a plastic ashtray. “I gotta get back to work.”
Teenie reached across the bar and patted the back of my hand. It was an odd gesture, comforting in a motherly sort of way.
“What was that all about?”
“Don’t mind her. It wasn’t nothing. She acts that way ’round everybody. Thinks ’cause she’s had a hard time of it, it gives her the right to be rude. She’s too young to realize that everybody’s got a story, not just her.”
I watched Alexis walk across the floor, then turned back to the bartender. “Thanks, Teenie.” After paying for my beer, I headed for the door. Alexis had tossed off her robe and taken the empty stage. She was facing the far side of the room, as though deliberately avoiding the bouncer’s gaze. I had intended to look him straight in the eye on my way out, but there was something about him, about his dark shades, that made me change my mind. Lowering my eyes as I walked out into the blinding sunshine, I felt as though I’d been challenged, and lost.
VII
I'd first heard of Harbor House when I was working as a lifeguard on Fort Lauderdale Beach over two years ago. The lifeguards took to the towers at nine o’clock every morning, and we often found people sleeping inside our posts. Usually they were winos, homeless men, most of whom we knew because they were regulars along the beach. We’d roust them, chew them out, explain that they weren’t supposed to sleep on county property. The thing that bothered me the most was when they peed in the towers. I mean, there you have a whole wide beach, nobody can see you from the street at night if you go down by the water’s edge, but no, they’d pee in a corner of the tower, and I’d have to sit there all day as the hot sun cooked up an intense, pissy smell.
A couple of years ago, on a morning two days before Christmas, a cold front passed through overnight, and the temperature dropped down into the low forties. I wore sneakers with two pairs of socks, a heavy sweat suit, and gloves. I’d brought my little pocket set of watercolors to pass the time. The shades of green and gray found in a windswept sea were always the
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