Chance Encounters

part one

     The last lock on the liquor cabinets clicked into place as I heard the little ring of the bell hung on the front door. It was ten minutes until the bar was supposed to close. I sighed and stood up to see who had come in so late. I immediately glanced toward the door and noticed a man making his way through the tables by the far wall. His dark hair was up in a bun. His walk was loping. Slow. Like he was accustomed to trying not to be noticed. "Don't worry," I said, just loud enough to carry across the bar counter. His head turned quickly at the sound of my voice and I smiled and picked up a rag to wipe down the counter space. "No one's here."

     He'd stopped when I'd spoken and was still standing in the center of the seating area. He hesitated there for a moment, eyes shifting from the empty back of house tables to the bar, before walking toward me. He pulled out a bar stool and placed his forearms on the freshly cleaned space in front of him. "I'm sorry," he paused to clear his throat before continuing. "What did you mean?" He spoke softly, with an accent that I couldn't quite place and a deeper voice than I would have expected from him.

     I turned and dropped the cleaning cloth back into its bucket and dried my hands as I answered him. "You just looked like you were avoiding something." I shrugged and poured the contents of the tip jar onto the bar between us.

     "Try everything." He chuckled and leaned back in his seat.

     Definitely a northern accent, probably Cheshire, I decided. There was something about his presence that was familiar and relaxing. It probably had something to do with the fact that he wasn't visibly drunk or harassing me, but I wanted to let him stay. "Usually I make the guys leave at close, but I don't have anywhere to be just yet and as long as you're not ordering any-"

     I was cut off by the small scrape of the stool legs as he stood. "I'm so sorry, I didn't even think of the time. I'll get going."

     "No. No, don't worry about it really. You're not bothering me at all."

     "You're sure? I don't want to put you out." He continued apologizing but sat back down anyways.

     I dropped the last of the coins I'd been counting back into the jar and smiled over my shoulder at him, "Completely." He stayed, so he must have believed me. I started closing the register and we sat in silence for a few minutes as I tapped numbers into the system. He pulled his jacket off and laid it across the back of his chair. The movement caught my eye and I glanced back toward him. His left arm was a full canvas of tattoos.

     As the final receipt for the night snaked out of the printer, he leaned forward in his seat, watching me intently. "If you don't mind my asking, what's a lovely woman like you doing closing a bar on her own in this part of the city?"

     I laughed and started to count out the deposit. "I've worked here for a while. My boss knows I can hold my own in here." I licked the envelope to seal it, and scrawled the date on the back. "I can hold my own just about anywhere."

     "Can I walk you to your car?"

     I tensed immediately and then sighed, disappointed. "No. That won't be necessary." I'd had so much faith in him.

     He noticed my change and quickly tried to recover. "Oh no, no, that's not what I- I mean, it's late and I would just-" He paused, and took a deep breath before continuing. "I would feel better about keeping you here this late and to be completely honest I'm sure you know that this is not a safe area. Even in broad daylight." I said nothing and tried to read his face. Tried to judge his intentions. I attempted to dissuade him again, but he still insisted. "Please."