Dove's Embrace; Crow's Cry

Chapter 1: Birdy

     The walk home from school is as cold and wet as usual. My converse are getting drenched from the rain, and it's starting to give me blisters. My hoodie is sticking to my body; I am definitely going to have to change before I start my shift. I know everyone loves fall, and don't get me wrong, I do too, but these cold, rainy days are not for me. I finally made it to the bar, but I need to head upstairs real quick to change my clothes.

     "Hey Monroe! Hurry up and get changed. You're getting water all over the floor." I look over and see Arlo polishing whiskey glasses with a white rag.

     "Arlo. Don't start the attitude already. Today was rough enough; I don't need to add your smart mouth as another reason why today sucked." He gave me a sad smile.

     Anyone who knows me at all knows I can't stand school, but they also know that I base my self-worth on my grades and scholar programs. Walking up the carpeted stairs toward the rooms, I see Cole sprinting down the stairs. My brother is not very good at time management, so I'm guessing his almost face-planting into the bottom steps means that he was already supposed to be working, but he slept in too late. He knows dad would have his head on steak if he was late again. I make it to the top of the stairs, walk down the long hallway all the way to the end, and walk into the last room on the left. When you walk into my room, you can really sense my personality. There are band posters all over the wall, pictures of Sydney and me at parties, scholar program awards, and my bed has black silk pillows and a comforter lined with lace.

     I finally dried off and tried to tie back my shaggy, blonde hair. Of course there are pieces sticking out of the bun; when your hair is shagged, it never stays in braids, buns,or ponytails. When I think the bun is good and slicked back, my front hair pieces fall in front of my face, and I give up on my hair.

     I make it down the hallway to the stairs and walk down to the bar. I look around and see a few regulars: Arlo is still polishing glasses, and Cole is making some drinks.

     "Birdy, can you take these drinks to Henry and Matt?" I look over to see Cole looking at me.

     I nod and walk over to pick the jack and cokes off the bar and take them over to our oldest and most frequent regulars. Henry Davidson and Matt Collins are my dad's old football buddies. All three of them came from rich families, and they all threw their families wealth to the ground and stomped all over it. Dad's parents, 'Grandma Della and Papaw Tim' were lawyers, and when my dad got out of high school, they lent him money to open his bar, but little did they know what kind of hole in the wall he was investing in. Long story short, they passed away when Cole and I were really young, so they had no say in what the inheritance money went to. Well, my mother took half and ran off for a while, and dad bought more stuff for this place and kept sheltering the hobos and criminals of the city. That's basically what "Cromwell Tavern" is: a shelter for the hobos, outcasts, and criminals of our city. That's what all the rooms in the hallway are for; they are rentals, and sometimes the tenants don't pay rent.

      "Are you going to Jason's party Friday night, Monroe? I'm guessing you are, but I figured I would ask." Arlo is smirking like he always does when he looks at me. I know this man is in love with me, and I don't even mean that in a cocky way.

      "I told you to quit calling me Monroe. Nobody calls me Monroe, but you do. I was named Birdy, and I would prefer for you to call me Birdy." I give him an evil glare, and he just laughs in my face.

     "I thought that was our special thing. I mean, you were named Birdy Monroe for a reason. Your parents predicted you would be as drop-dead gorgeous as Marilyn Monroe." This is why I said he's in love with me.

     I go behind the bar counter and start getting ready for the nighttime rush. This is the time when the homeless come in from the cold streets, sex workers come looking for work, and the nighttime crowd comes looking for a good time. Now, you may be thinking, "Why is a 17-year-old working in a bar, serving alcohol?" My answer is: You tell me. My dad really doesn't care, and ever since I mouthed off to a customer for checking my butt out, I was told to get an apron on and start working. Now I'm getting paid by my dad to work in this interesting environment.

     "You never answered my question. Are you going to the party?"Arlo's sentence gets caught off by the bell on top of the door.

     "Of course she's going to the party! It's not a party without Birdy and me! "I look over at the door, and it's Sydney. She takes a seat at the bar.

     "I would like to go, but I don't know if I have a shift that night or not." I turn to look at them both.

      Cole steps in. "That Friday night is Tanner, Crosby, and I's shift. You can go." He looks at Sydney and continues, "Why are you here? You know you aren't allowed in here during the night hours." He scowls.

     "I just wanted to come by; I figured you guys missed me." She gave a playful pouty face.

      "I'm driving you home. Birdy and I don't want you walking home late at night, especially on this street."He puts down the drinks and goes to grab his keys.

     "Yeah, Syd, you know I don't like you here during nighttime hours. It gets even weirder here when it's during the nighttime hours." I look at her with a soft smile.

     Sydney has been my best friend since middle school. Let me tell you, she is drop-dead gorgeous. She has long, silky brown hair, cheek bones, and a sharp jawline. Her body is the definition of an hourglass. I look so plain next to her, but that's what I want. I get a lot of bad attention when I'm here working at the bar; it's enough attention, and I don't want it anymore. I really don't want her walking alone in the dark, and I definitely don't want her here; it's not a good place for her to be.

     "I don't understand why you don't drive; you have your driver's license now." Cole says as he walks to pick up his coat off of the coat rack.

     "I do, but I don't have a car yet. I walk to work; unless mom or dad is home, then they drive me." She gets off the bar stool and gives me a small wave. Cole and her walk out of the bar to the car.

After shift

     I have had enough with those freaks for the night. When Cole came back from dropping off Sydney, that is when the night crowd started to pile in, and they were horrible. They are always trying to flirt with me, and I remind them every time that there is a hooker in the corner ready to give them the night of their lives. There's always an argument with them, and Cole had to kick one of them out because they were getting a little too angry. If they didn't want my backtalk, they shouldn't have talked to me. The people who come in either know me as a massive bitch or a sweet face. I'm a bitch to those who want to hit on me and not take a hint, and I'm a sweet face to the little old men who come in and just want someone to talk to; most of them are widowed, so they're just lonely and need someone to talk to.

     I hang my tips apron on the coat rack on my wall, and I flop down on my bed face first. I know I have to get up and change these stinky clothes. I get up and change into my pajamas. Which is just a large t-shirt and my underwear. I check my phone for the last time for the night and just see Snapchat notifications. Snapchat hoes. I am not in the mood right now to snap. I flip over, grab my blankets, and fall asleep.