Ghosts ⚔️ Blackbeard's Treasure

Chapter 5.

Inside, raucous laughter and the pungent aroma of dark rum assault my senses. The interior of the crowded club looks like a barbarous pirate ship with heavily beamed lattice windows and bulky seventeenth century furniture. The place is packed with patrons acting like jackals, raising hell at the Well of Souls. My eyes slowly adjust to the dim lighting.

"This is fab," Julia says, pushing her way past several wooden tables. Flickering light from candles and faux oil lanterns cast shadows on the wall, creating a mysterious ambiance. She makes a beeline for the elegant bar which is set close to the back wall. Pulling out her glasses, she carefully studies a treasure chest-shaped chalk board. The lower half of the mahogany bar is decorated with wainscot in an elegant marriage of style and form. Behind it, shelves are lined with unmarked bottles of amber liquid. Special lighting above the bar turns the liquor bottles an effervescent green.

The bar is an eye of calm in the storm. At the opposite end of the room, the mood at one of the tables becomes less jocular. I hear a commotion in the corner. "You bastard!" There's breaking glass, followed by the sound of an overturned barstool, as the gargantuan bouncer brushes by us.

Sweating profusely, I grab Julia's arm. "I'm convinced coming here is a mistake we'll live to regret."

"Stop acting like you've been shanghaied, Lizzy. You came here of your own accord, now try to enjoy yourself." My grandmother pushes a twenty towards the bartender. "Two Rum Runners."

"Braving the storm of the century isn't my idea of fun." I scrutinize the specials board. A skull and crossbones is mounted at the top. "These prices are exorbitant."

The bearded bartender returns with our drinks. He has a riot of curls and a hooked nose. "Here we are, ladies." With a flourish, he places two exotic drinks in front of us. "Two Rum Runners with three kinds of rum, fresh pineapple, banana liqueur and orange juice." I have to admit, the fresh orange slices are a rather nice Florida Keys touch.

Julia takes a sip and raises her eyebrows. "This is good."

"Ghost rum." The bartender confides. He smiles broadly, flashing a mischievous Cheshire Cat grin.

"Where do you get it?" I ask. He moves off as if he doesn't want to share this information and I shrug.

A minute later, he returns and examines Julia's invitation. He says, "You're one of the winning ticket holders." He takes Julia's money off the bar and slides her a bottle of rum.

"What's this?"

"It's my own family recipe. I'm trying to start my own distillery." Outside the wind is howling. The bottles lined up behind the bar tremor. My grandmother sticks the bottle of spirits into her bag. "What're you lovely ladies doing out on such a blarmy night?" I find the man's affable, macho, and irritating all at once.

Julia raises her glass and toasts the cutlass hung above the bar. "As Jack Sparrow says, we go where we want, when we want." I roll my eyes. These two scalawags are beyond ridiculous. I can't cope with this old Pirate role playing anymore.

The grinning bartender nods, "Aye lass, piracy is all about freedom. Doing what you want, when you want with no one to answer to in the world." He lowers a bushy eyebrow. "Of course, there's always a cost.

"What would that be, besides these cutthroat prices?" I really want the man to leave so I can talk to my grandmother in private.

His mouth falls open at my blasphemy. "What's your problem, lass? I've often found that it's the chubby girls who offend most easily."

This makes me mad. I ran all summer to lose fifty pounds. "That's the ugliest perm I've ever seen." I may have shot one across his bow, but now he's making it personal.