Skylar Gray

2.

The room I was renting was on the second level of a rundown old townhouse in the Historic District only a few miles away from the Wistonville campus. The house is split so that the renters from each floor almost never have to see each other and as long as the rent is paid on time we never have a problem with the landlord – a chill, older, hippy lady named Magnolia.

Ruby and I had never met before moving day. We had both answered the same ad and the landlord set us up with the top floor 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom apartment. Despite our being opposites in pretty much every way we clicked, which was good because the place was in my price range and close to the bar where I worked.

The big storm that I had unleashed last night was just a soft and steady rain now. As I stood alone on the porch having my morning smoke I realized that in my hurry to get away from Ruby and her pity I had forgotten to grab a jacket. As soon as I stepped off the porch I was going to be soaked. It was about a 30 minute walk to the bar where I spent most of my days (and nights). Today I needed to make it in half that time! I flicked the butt of my cigarette into the bucket in the corner, took a deep breath and launched myself into the rain.

I usually didn't mind hoofing it to work every day but on days like this – as I struggled to keep my soaking jeans from falling off as I ran – I seriously wished I knew how this stupid weather control thing worked. Or that the events of last year hadn't happened and I still had a nice dry truck to drive to work. I still couldn't believe that out of all the cars on our block – most of them much nicer than mine – the thugs decided to jack mine. It was insane. The cops had said that they probably didn't know much about hotwiring the newer vehicles so mine was the obvious, easy choice.

As I rounded the corner to Main Street I was surprised to see how many people were braving the elements. Most of them even had brains enough to have umbrellas or at least something to keep their head dry. I smiled, thinking again about all the people who were going to grumble about the weather today. Looking around, I could already see several people frowning and when I caught their eyes they quickly looked away. Others I glanced as I ran through the busy street looked as though they were amused.

As I neared the corner I slowed my pace to a brisk walk and tried to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly with the effort. One of my regulars at the bar, Kennedy Scott, was on her way out with a cup of coffee in one hand and an umbrella in the other when I came up still gasping for air. "Well someone's perky today!" She winked at me from under her umbrella – which was black except for a large hand giving the finger right in the center – as I went by. I shot her a curious look but was too late to even consider stopping to ask what she was talking about. I would see her later anyway. The woman practically lived at the bar. Kind of like me.

The top floor of the beautiful, historic building where I worked was a penthouse for the lady who owned it and all its businesses, complete with an iron railed balcony and rooftop garden. The main floor was a large library and bookstore open 24/7 to the public. Finally, in the basement, my favorite place in the world, Wistonville's Finest Beans and Brews.

Being right off campus, we always had a steady flow of students ready for their caffeine fix every morning and a party every night. Stepping in off the busy street it was easy to lose yourself in our lavish dungeon, full of rich, deep colors and low lighting. With few windows to remind them that the day was going on without them, our patrons would stay for hours.

Back when I first walked through the heavy wooden door, first descended the stone staircase, it was like finding a place to call home. The scent of coffee and liquor warmed me and I insisted on getting a job. At first they turned me away but I was persistent. They started me on the after-hours cleanup crew and I had worked my way up. I now manned the bar with the sort of confidence necessary for any Barista in a college town.