Tasteful Darkness

Chapter 4

Peter – Four years ago

The tavern is busy. Busier than usual, at least, and that's saying something. Peter works at a highly populated place, but tonight, the entire city might as well be crammed between these four alls.

"Hey," William, the other barman, says. Sweat beads on his forehead, only made worse by the humid air. "Do you think you can handle things while I'm on my break? You're free for the night after that."

Peter nods and watches William leave out the back door of the tavern.

Going back to his duties, Peter wipes a glass clean, and just as he does, a man approaches the bar. Well, more collapses on it, considering how unsteady he is on his feet. He drunkenly orders a pint of ale. Peter nearly rejects his offer looking at the state he's in, but he listens because that's what he's paid to do.

People always frown when they hear Peter is a barman who does not drink. He's gotten this far without alcohol and doesn't think he will get any farther with it.

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, his thoughts always return to Althea. She had told him he would be busy, and she was right. It makes Peter smile and nearly curse at the same time.

It's been a week since he last saw her. His job at the tavern has been so time consuming that he's barely had time to eat, which only makes him even more exhausted daily.

Someone else enters the already overcrowded tavern, drawing Peter away from his thoughts. He suppresses the urge to groan as the hooded figure approaches him.

"What can I get for you?" he asks, going to grab a clean glass.

"How is your wrist?"

He freezes and nearly drops the cup. "Althea?" he stutters out, putting the glass down in front of him. "You cannot be in here."

She looks up, revealing her unforgettable eyes. "I am aware that ladies aren't allowed in taverns, but you'll be surprised to know how little people do to make sure it doesn't happen."

Peter looks around. No one has paid any mind to her entering.

But it still makes Peter nervous.

"It isn't safe for you here," he says instead. "If someone sees you, they may think you are here for something other than drinks."

"I am here for something other than drinks," she says with a smile.

Peter blinks at her. "Pardon?"

She rolls her eyes. "Not that. I am here to see you. So I ask you again. How is your wrist?"

"It's fine," he says, which isn't entirely a lie. It hurts less, yes, but whenever he tries to pick up something slightly heavy, pain shoots through his wrist. "It must be healing."

Althea narrows her eyes for a moment. "If you say so." She pulls up a stool and sits down directly in front of Peter, who continues to not know what to say to her.

A man approaches the bar, sliding into a spot next to Althea, who doesn't react. Peter feels his grip tighten on the glass in his hand. He knows the men who frequent the tavern, and he knows what they think of women. Particularly those who look like Althea.

"A glass of rum, please," the man says.

Peter realizes how coherently the man is speaking. "Just starting your night?" he asks as he prepares the drink.

The man nods, his eyes drifting away from Peter and towards Althea. The man tilts his head.

"I haven't seen you around here," the man says, leaning forward.