The Mysterious Case of Beverly O'Sullivan

August 16, 2011, 3:17 A.M

"Hey, get up, I need to show you something," I heard Beverly's smooth voice call out to me as I began to raise myself up from the hardwood flooring. I looked around and found Beverly standing in Robbie's doorway with something wrapped around her body. Once my green-russet eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could see my own two hands, I noticed it was a light blue silk robe with a cherry blossom tree pattern. "Where'd you get the robe?" I asked as I put on my orange flannel pants and green slick jacket. She twitched her head to the back of the room and said, "Bathroom, Robbie has it hanging on there. I'm only using it for the night." I shrugged and put on my shoes and followed Beverly out of the house and to the driveway of Robbie's old house. Which looked more purple than rose-colored at night. 

I followed Beverly to the bus stop near the end of the street, and said, "You might want to pay attention to this. Because she'll be a good help for you. Plus I think her friend will make you hard." and she snickered as she lightly slapped my shoulder. I rolled my eyes and asked, "What? Is she similar looking to Sammy?" Beverly shrugged, "I mean, she 's a grunge-type person, but she bleaches her hair. She's a natural brunet. And a smart one too." The dimly lit bus came and we walked on once it came to a slight stop. She and I sat at the back of the bus, and since nobody but the driver was there, we chatted and joked until the bus came to a more neon-lighted area of the downtown. She took my hand and led me outside to the sidewalk covered in chalk paint designs and cigar butts. 

"Where are we going?" I asked once we made it to a red brick building with a bright blue front door that was covered in band posters from current Oregon bands. Beverly smiled and said, "C'mon, you can handle a bar, can't you?" I nodded, "Yeah I've been to some. It's the magic of looking twenty-five when you're twenty." She snickered and swung open the light weighted door. The smell of barbecue, homemade chicken strips, red ales, and hippie incense was what filled my nose and the room. The walls were made from wood paneling that was painted over with a burgundy coat, and cinder blocks that were painted a nice summer yellow. The flooring was old mosaic tiles and hardwoods mixed in, the booths were just pillows and old writings desks, and a few church pews served as seats with tall tables. But the pews were elevated for the tables and were covered in tapestry's, blankets, and Mandela pillows. The windows were clothed in velvet curtains that ranged from deep purple, royal blue, and a stark white with red trim. A black bass guitar hung over the front door's entrance, and a gypsy-like statue of a woman in a purple bra top and a red silk skirt was in front of a pair of black and red french doors that had a sign painted across them. It read: "Bar open for guests over the age of eighteen. If you are eighteen, DO NOT ORDER A BEER. Get a mock-tail instead."

"They've got humor here," I joked. Beverly nodded, "Kenny works here and had that sign painted. He's the manager and one of the main singers for the bar. He also can play a rock ballad on the drums that will give any classic rock fan an eargasm." She then opened the doors and led me inside a dark room with cinder block walls painted a thick black, the ceiling had boot-legged chandeliers, tapestry's, and dream catchers. The bar was a simple wooden countertop with all kinds of red ales, brown ales, wines, hard teas and ciders, and even cocktails and tequila. The flooring was simple dark oak wood flooring with thin rugs and a few posters from bands and famous hippie-rock singers, such as: "Led Zeppelin," "Fleetwood Mac," "Janis Joplin," and "Jimi Hendrix." The walls were decorated with drapes and curtains, and the ceiling had CD's and records hanging from a single string. Beverly sat me down at a two-seater and we began to talk until a loud booming of an old, classic rock bass began to play. Bev then turned my head to face what was in front of us, it was a small stage that had very dim lighting. There were other people around us that all either stood up or faced the stage from their seats, and all of them looked to be a hippie or biker. Once the stage lights blasted on, a feminine gravely voice called out, "Good evening everybody!" and that's when I saw her.