Don't You Trust Me?

Chapter 13- Speak What?

Sal's is a dead little hole in the wall, complete with an old, salty dog and a wrinkled little man passed out back against the wall on the side of the bar. When the door dinged at my entry, he didn't stir but the old dog lazily raised his droopy eyelids to survey me. The floorboards were creaky, thin, old pine planks and the walls peeled off in sun burnt oatmeal flakes. The once creamy sun color of the wall paper fell in crispy little shavings on the once gleaming, now scratched up and well loved bar top. 20-30 bottles, half full or less, lined the mirrored, oak panels behind the bar and no bartender raised his hat at me.

I stepped inside and let the creaky door click shut behind me, noticing a young couple curled up by the fire in the corner and a group of three men with facial hair huddled over a round table and a greasy pile of bar food. Their mugs of beer didn't look very heavy, so they didn't give me more than a second of a glance. I ran my fingers over the paper in my pocket that had the address that Mica gave me scrawled on it, positive I was in the right place. Maybe it gets hopping during karaoke night...

Realizing slowly that Mica wanted a quiet, intimate place with many dark corners and few drunken eyes around, time clicked by. Not a very large crowd... Is there even a bathroom? I took my eyes off the clock, hands teasing 8:15pm, and searched the walls filled with old pictures.

No, of course not. Nowhere to hide. At least I'll be able to hear his business; not much in the way of distractions. I scraped my foot around the knots in the floorboards, counting the deep scrapes in the wood. I should have gotten here at 7. He told me 7. He probably left an hour ago. I shuffled past the adorable little couple and glared at the guy's arm that snaked its way around her shoulders.

"Excuse me, sir." I gently spoke up once I had reached the old man, his scruffy dog not even twitching his ears at me anymore. "Sir?" Droopy brown eyes peeled apart and settled on me, taking in my plum skirt and crisp white business shirt. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but I was supposed to meet someone here at 7. Are you the owner? Perhaps you saw him? A blonde haired man dressed nicely, sitting alone?"

The tired eyes decorated with small veins and yellowish age spots drank me in a second longer before he seemed to make a connection and the stone became life. He leaned in towards me, slowly and keeping eye contact as he inched closer. An uneven, scratchy voice broke from his mouth, "Are you Ms. Kaede Smith?"

"Yes, I was here to meet a man named Mica? I got caught up and I..." Actually, I just knew I couldn't keep stalling for two hours and convince Mica I needed to stay past our dinner to meet his important business friends coming at 9pm. I threw up my hands, shrugging and lightly grimacing as he began to nod slowly and raised a hand. "Around here." He scratchily said, motioning to a door that had an ancient blue "Employees Only" sign crookedly hanging on it. "And miss? Look up."

He didn't pay me one more iota of notice, sliding his heavy loss closed once again and making me once again an invisible little smudge in this tired little bar. The couple was absorbed in the fire and each other, the group of men oblivious to my existence, so when I clicked open the door to the cupboard, only I noticed the piece of paper that was taped in a shadow on the ceiling. Only I read the instructions on it, following them after I quietly shut the door behind me. I struggled not to trip over the brooms and buckets, calling attention to the dark little janitor's closet, so when I successfully and sneakily opened the hidden door, only I saw the brilliant warm glow that emanated up from beneath.

I entered the room, closing the door behind me before I descended the dark stairs to the landing below where a yellow haze burned around the edges of a final door. The door opened under my knocking, swinging open to blind me with decadence.

Gold curtains covered bricked up windows, glimmering chandeliers winked and twinkled up above, mirrors stretched across the back walls, lining the walls with infinite rows of amber liquid, crystal bottle after bottle of liquor and spirit. Gleaming cherry wood shone under platinum coasters and expensive looking martini glasses, the bar a thick slab of polished shimmer. Bodies danced and brilliant smiles flashed, smoke crawled up pricey cigars towards the velvety drapes that hung from the ceiling, and infectious music trumpeted and beat deep into my core. It was an old school glamorous party, with all the glitz and pizzazz of the roaring twenties, Old Hollywood, and an olden day great ball and gala all wrapped up into one swinging little bar.