GHOST - SHORT STORIES

A FRIEND OF A FRIEND

Amber liquid splashes into the glass perched upon wood. Rings of condensation serving as a reminder for just how many drinks you've poured to keep patrons happy.

Friday nights are always busy, and tonight is proving no different.

Music spilling from the speakers nestled into corners. Orders thrown at you with haste; and in your element, you have no problem with keeping up.

The rushes coming in persistent waves. A coy smile upon lips at the flirty regulars, manicured fingers more than happy to collect the bills pushed in your direction.

This was only supposed to be a temporary job. Something to bulk up your savings over the summer; a break from the bleak corporate world.

But one summer turned into two, then four. And soon enough you were practically running the place. Business steadily growing as word spread of the pretty bartender.

The liquid-courage based compliments and slurred requests for your number were always somewhat endearing. You haven't had any real trouble. Anyone that took it too far was quickly dealt with by the tenured returning customers that you knew by order rather than name.

A fifty is offered to you with a drawl of how good you look. The cost of the drink and then some slipped into the draw of the till. Your attention soon shifting to the next awaiting patron, watching another carry his refilled glass back to the pool table.

Between pouring drinks and collecting cash, you sneak mouthfuls of water and glances at the clock.

Someone rather special is expected to walk through the front door any minute now. A friend who's finally back in town.

And it's hard not to feel as though time is crawling along slower than usual in your anticipation.

Nothing romantic, of course. You'd sworn off of dating after the last disaster of a relationship you'd had. But seeing an old familiar was always strangely soothing.

And with how crazy things had been as of late, you're incredibly eager to carry out a well-overdue catchup into the early hours of the morning.

Not to mention his anecdotes of his rather intense job are always rather capable of making your stresses seem miniscule.

Another glance towards the entrance as you add another order to a running tab. Another compliment from drunken lips.

"Every time I visit, you've got lads linin' up out the door to flirt with ya."

The familiar accent of the Scot fills you with a comforting warmth; smile wide upon your lips as you turn towards it.

Johnny, a year older than when you'd last seen him, but hardly looking any different. The same kind eyes, the same bright smile.

Except this time, he's not alone.

Flanked on his left by a tall man wearing cargo pants and a black hoodie. Features masked by fabric adorned with a skull print. Stormy grey eyes left exposed.

"Hope you don't mind that I brought this one along. He's not usually one for a night out, but I figured he could use some socialisation outside of the barracks."

Despite how little of his face you can see, it's rather evident that Johnny's friend is attractive. Something brooding about him. The air of mystery only adding to that strange flutter you feel against the confines of your ribcage.

"YN, this is Gho-"

Johnny starts, but a gravelly voice cuts in before he can finish.

"Simon."