Elaine Wilder is back in her old stomping grounds of Kingston, California following a year of post-graduation travel. It was supposed to be her opportunity to find her footing in life and learn the family business. Instead, she stumbles into long-hi...
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I tapped my fingertips to the tune of a Strokes song that was blaring out of my car speakers, turning into the Black Rabbit parking lot. The waves of nostalgia echoed through my car.
The parking lot is paved with cobblestone, one of my favorite little details about this place. I could practically taste the salt air blowing in from the shore. The old, burgundy brick exterior of the building hasn't changed much in the last few years. New windows stretch across the whole front side of the building, shaded with a scalloped awning. The original sign still hung from a metal fixture on the corner of the building, and there seemed to be a newer, cobalt neon sign. The blue glow of the sign gives an edge to the otherwise retro, charming exterior.
I slide my car into park and unplug my phone from the stereo, grabbing my black leather purse from the passenger seat. As I stepped out of the car, my eyes focus on the steady stream of people coming in and out of the front door. I didn't want to get in the way of the evening rush, but it's a little too late for that I guess.
I smooth down the pants of my blue jeans and adjust the simple, red, sleeveless top I was wearing and walk through the front door. The familiar scent of old leather hits me like a freight train. I let my eyes scan the room, not moving but a couple of feet from the front door.
There were two separate bars where you could order drinks. The smaller one is situated along the back wall, with a door that leading back into an area where all the liquor was kept and shipments were stacked. Behind that bar stood a light-haired, sunkissed man boyishly grinning at an older woman while he refills her glass.
An old jukebox sat in the corner to my left, with an "out of order" sign that was collecting dust. Across from that sat two pool tables, two games in play. The friendly sound of cues hitting their target filled the air.
My eyes continue to travel across the room, scanning for any familiar faces in the bustles of seated and standing people when it lands on the main bar. The original mirrored shelving remained along the back wall, stocked with endless amounts of glass bottles. Warm, vintage lighting lined the ceiling, casting a romantic, soft glow on the room.
God, I missed this place.
"There you are!" I jumped at the sudden contact of a warm hand on my shoulder, snapping my head in the direction of where the familiar voice originated from.
Grandad stood there, an aged smile beaming back at me. I hadn't seen him in probably six months, not since I left for my trip. I called him plenty, but seeing him now with his ever-graying hair, and crow's feet that were deeper than they were last time I saw him; I feel a little sad.
I took no hesitation reaching my arms out and embracing him. "Hi, Grandad." I breathed in through my nose and the smell of his cologne wafted over my senses.
"My Elaine. Looking lovely as ever, aren't you?" He leaned back from our hug, patting my back and shaking his head, smiling. "You want a drink?"
I nodded, "You already know." He chuckled and put his arm around my shoulder, leading me towards the main bar and through the small, lively crowd of people.
