Chicago Nights Ch. 01

The tall man wordlessly excused himself from the conversation and, ever so casually, approached the bar. Over his shoulder, Adrian saw Hunter glance at him with a nervous expression. He knew his boss was terrified of these people, of what they might do, and for a moment Adrian wondered why he was not.

"Howdy, stranger," Andro greeted the barman casually.

Adrian flinched. "What did you call me?"

"Called you Stranger." The Mad Dog slid onto a barstool and grinned easily. "Was I mistaken?" He tilted his head, examining Adrian's face. "No? If we've met, I honestly don't remember it."

Adrian quietly chastised himself, making an actor's effort to relax. He knew he was buying too thoroughly into the ghost stories people liked to tell. The Mad Dog couldn't possibly know about the Stranger. Nobody knew about the Stranger. "We haven't met," he said dully. "I misheard you is all."

"Sound is a weapon." Andro acknowledged, laying one arm on the bar and looking around the room, "Still, it's a guess. And a stranger can be a lot of things...not just someone new. Sometimes it's a person who you thought you understood but didn't. Sometimes it's someone you love." He locked eyes with the barman. "You know what I mean?"

Adrian thought of Laura and flinched. "What do you want?"

A grin slipped across the mouth, but not the eyes. "Well, that's a loaded question. Wow. What do I want?" The tall man leaned forward, running his thumb across his upper lip. "More importantly," he whispered, eyes darting conspiratorially, "how do I get it?"

Adrian showed his lack of amusement with his face. "It's a bar," he said. "The way it works is, you name the fucking drink, and then I pour the fucking drink. It's a hell of a system." He leaned forward impatiently. "That's how you get what you want."

Andro looked almost wistful. "If only..." Then he flicked his wrist impatiently. "Alright. Maybe things really are that simple, stranger. Maybe all we ever have to do is ask. But then, what's the saying? 'The savior cries with Joseph's eyes?' I'm not convinced that simple is even a word we should be allowed to use."

"I've never heard that saying."

"You will." Andro sniffed. "Do you ever get used to the stink of this place?"

"If it didn't stink like this, it would just stink like alcohol."

"Would it, though?" This seemed to amuse the Mad Dog. He leaned forward again, further this time and with some purpose. "I think I know what I want," he said playfully. "I think want to tell you a riddle."

Adrian kept his face blank, indifferent. He'd overheard enough stories to know that the Mad Dog's double speak was usually a bad sign for all involved, but he couldn't help feeling an antagonistic curiosity. Maybe the Stranger was waking up. "I'm not really all that interested in your fucking games, asshole. Thanks anyway."

Andro raised his eyebrows. "But that's why I want to tell it to you. That's why you're the one."

"Find someone else to play with. I'm busy."

Andro looked up and down the bar, amused. He was, of course, the only person there. Then he looked back at Adrian, and suddenly clapped. "Car crash," he said. "That's what it was!"

"What?"

"Your face. Am I right? It's been puzzling me, I'll admit. But the way your scarring is paced looks like glass, probably coming from multiple angles...and one side heavier than all the others. Am I right?" When Adrian didn't answer, he snapped his fingers and pointed upward, nodding to himself. "The driver's side window really got you, I think. So it wasn't a head-on. Your jaw speaks of extreme blunt trauma, and yet you show no sign of injury below...maybe the collarbone. It's hard to tell from here. T-boned, I'd bet...probably by something big. It must have been a hell of a crash, Stranger. Wish I'd been there to see it."

Adrian bit back cold anger. "Why don't you just fuck off back to your master, dog. I just work here. I'm not worth your time."

Andro laughed loudly. Across the room, the other men turned around to glance at him before going back to their conversation. Hunter looked nervous, and he gave Adrian a warning look before returning to his negotiations.

"You just work here. Yeah," Andro snickered. "Me, too, man. Me, too." He sighed deeply and sniffed the air. "No, I'm not investigated you. And I wouldn't bother to, either. Even your shithole boss isn't worth all that much to us. A little operation like this? Brothel in a bar? It's just the spoils. See," he locked eyes with Adrian, "we're only here because the war is over."

"It doesn't feel like it's over to me."

"It doesn't have to. Things don't move on feel. This town is owned, Stranger. Think about it ...would a chicken shit nobody like Hunter Kaufman really be picking sides unless he wasn't damn sure of the outcome? Does he strike you as that particular brand of brave?"

Adrian glanced over at his boss. "No," he admitted.

"Case closed, then. I declare," he raised an imagined glass, "the war is over. Framed in fantasies and dragged in dream. The good guys won, like they always do. So about that riddle..."

"I said no."

"And I heard you. I just don't believe it."

"Well, believe it, because I would rather fucking not."

The Mad Dog looked suddenly, sickeningly, excited. "Yes, you would." He studied Adrian. "I can see it written all over your face. You very much rather would."

"What makes you so sure?"

"You were very quick to acknowledge that our dear Mr. Kaufman is a coward. And you made a face when you said it, like something in here stank. Other than the bar itself, of course. You know my reputation, you know the things people say about me, but you're not intimidated. You're no coward, Mister the Stranger, and that's why you definitely want to hear my riddle."

Adrian stared at him for a long time, not responding.

"Fine," he said at last. "Tell me your fucking riddle. And then get the fuck away from me."

Andro kicked at the floor, spinning his barstool slowly around like a playful child. "Fair deal. But pay attention. You're memory isn't what it used to be, and you're going to need to remember this."

Adrian took a deep breath. "Why's that?"

"Because it's time for the riddle, but not the answer. Not yet."

Adrian sighed, irritated by the Mad Dog's banter. "Go ahead."

"Okay. It goes like this," Andro stopped his barstool and leaned forward again, voice becoming hushed and reverent. "Two children are lost in the woods. You understand me? They're lost. And they have nothing with them...nothing to save and nothing to carry. Neither one knows the way home. However, the girl knows something that the boy does not, and that one simple little thing makes her very, very wise." He leaned back again. "What does the girl know?"

Adrian frowned. "She knows that they're lost. She knows that they're in trouble."

"That isn't remotely the answer, friend. Even a child can recognize danger."

He thought about it. "She knows the way home."

"Told you your memory was bad. I just said that neither one does."

Adrian grimaced, repeating the riddle back in his head. "She knows people. She knows where to get help."

Andro's eyes grew sympathetic. "You and I know all too well that there's never any help to be found, Stranger. Not really. Not ever."

"Then I give. What is it?"

Andro laughed again. This time, the negotiating men ignored him. "I told you, barman. This is the time for the question. Later is the time for the answer."

Adrian grunted. "You are fucking annoying," he observed. But he said it with a touch of amusement, and when he did, for the first time that night he saw the Mad Dog look surprised.

"Thank you, Stranger" he said, and it sounded earnest. "That was a kindness." Then he slid off his barstool and began to walk away.

"Stay," Adrian blurted out, surprising himself. "Annoy me some more."

"Would that I could, Stranger. But I promised the boss that I'd look in on that creature your Mr. Kaufman is keeping in his office. I hear she's quite a sight."

"You won't hurt her." It wasn't a question; it was a warning. But when the Mad Dog turned around, light in his eyes, he seemed impressed more than angry.

"You have my word," he said with an easy smile, putting one hand in the air. "And I think you'll find that my word is always true." Then he turned around and ambled down the hallway.

Adrian watched him go, feeling inexplicably happy about the exchange. It was true that the Mad Dog's words felt almost nonsensical, and he could see why some people thought he was just plain crazy. But Adrian could also see that every phrase was carefully chosen. It was like running a large maze...every turn Andro took had purpose, intention, and brought the conversation closer to some pre-designated ending.

It seemed strange that he of all people would see the meaning where most people saw nonsense. Maybe the rest of the world would understand the Mad Dog better if they could just get themselves hit by a truck.

For some reason, that struck him as funny, and he had to restrain what yearned to be gales of thick laughter. Then he looked in the mirror, saw himself there, and was relieved. The Stranger slept.

Carefully, he recited Andro's riddle in his mind.

Two children are lost in the woods. They have nothing with them...nothing to save or carry. Neither one of them knows the way home. However, one of them does know something that the other does not, and that one thing makes her very, very wise.

He repeated it, again and again, as close to word for word as he could manage.

He didn't know why, but he trusted the Mad Dog's words. He would try not forget them.

Less than ten minutes later, the Mad Dog left, trailing faithfully behind his Messenger. Hunter watched them go, looking tired and frustrated but not unhappy. "What a bunch of fucking wackos," he grunted. Then he shuffled back towards his office, giving Adrian a brisk nod as he left. "Go home, Adrian. Things will start to change tomorrow." Adrian nodded.

Home,he thought.What is home? Two children are lost in the woods...

-=-=-

Author's note: This story is meant to be capable of standing on its own. If it completely fails at that goal, I apologize profusely. It won't be my first effort to have missed the mark. I should note that it is also meant to serve as a sequel to my story "Stranger is the Sail," available on this site.

It's been a long time in-between works for me, but it's not for lack of effort...I've started maybe two dozen stories aimed at this venue during the many months. Four or five of those are even worth finishing, I think. I just struggle to find the time. In the last year I've published several research papers in my field of employment, a handful of short stories in very minor venues, and have even managed to drop a really shitty poem onto some poor journal's printed page. I've also developed a very unpleasant and somewhat unsettling pain in my right hand from all the scribbling, scrawling, typing, and deleting...and thus a genuine need to knock it the fuck off from time to time.

I blame Literotica for all of it. Seeing as how I used this site as a "safe proving ground" when I decided to try my hand at writing, and coupled with the fact that nothing is ever my fault, there is no getting around the fact that my future nerve damage will be entirely on your head. If you hadn't been here, and every bit as entertaining and talented as you were idiosyncratically bizarre, I might never have taken the plunge. You're a real asshole, Literotica, and I've missed you.

A few other notes: "Framed in fantasies and dragged in dream" is a line from a Phil Ochs song called I Declare the War is Over. I don't want to get caught taking credit for it...I simply couldn't resist adding that reference once I realized that I'd just had Andro blurt out the title. And yes, I do realize that my little pet Mad Dog, born of a combined love of Faust-like scenarios and mythological trickster characters, can be a real pain in the ass to try and read sometimes. He's just so much fun towrite for...