The Remainders

Chapter 2

                     Emoji Word Chart
🐜= A  🐝=B 🐱=C 🐶=D 🦅=E 🦋=F 🦟=G
🦀=H 🌴=I 🥀=J🍃=K 🐞=L 🌾-M 🐉=N
🌑=O 🍑=P ✨=Q💐=R ❄️=S🌵=T🐽=U
🐬=V🐋=W 🦖=X 💦=Y🦎=Z
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   "...And STAY OUT! 🐜❄️❄️ hole!" The bouncer of the Jewel Cove: Bar and Grill yelled threateningly at the inebriated young man that he had thrown out for not the second, but for the third time that night.
   "You stay out... freak." The young man slurred together what was supposed to be a comeback, as he stumbled off.
   "I'll just find a better bar!" the young man turned, and screamed at the bouncer, before he took off down a dark alley, more than likely in search of more alcohol.
   "You do that, sir," the bouncer shrugged, "that's what they all do."
             ##################
"Hey, Connor! I need some clean glasses, over here!" Désiré shouted cheerily above the revelrous crowd of customers.
"Coming right up, Des!" Connor shouted back, as he began to pull chilled glasses out of the freezer.
Connor then began to stack the glasses onto the tray that he had, making the glass form a rather impressive looking arch— a trick that his mother had taught him.
When he finished up the act, the customers applauded, as Connor took a bow. Désiré just smiled.
Connor's Night Club, was always busy. Especially on a night like this— the night before 'Useless' moderations, always brought out the people who thought that they might have failed to meet their levels.
"What are you here for?" Désiré over heard one of the customers ask the neighboring customer, that was seated to the right of him.
"Level went down to twenty... m'not sure what the outcome'll be..." the customer paused for a moment. He shrugged, and then continued with boisterous, drunken laugh, "I figured that I might as well die happy, if the dogs decide to drag me back to their master."
   Désiré winced at the customer's rather blunt comment. He felt his chest seize up with pity for not only this customer, but the others as well.
   Twenty was definitely a low usefulness level, but at least the moderators might give the people that still held onto double digits, a second chance. But... if they would not... what would that mean for himself?
Suddenly, the door to the night club flew open, causing désiré to abandon his dark thoughts.
Everyone in the club, seemed to stop what they were doing, as they warily turned towards the newcomer. In the middle of the entryway, stood a tall, well dressed, blonde, young man, who was clearly inebriated.
Désiré froze up. This was in no way, one of the night club's regular customers, and that made him nervous. And whenever he got nervous, he had a habit of stuttering.
Across the bar, Connor noticed Désiré's nervousness. "Poor kid," he said to himself. Indeed, Connor could not blame the kid for freezing up. After all, on more than one occasion, some of the newcomers, would try to cause trouble. When this happened, Désiré, would often become the butt of their jokes, and, or, the punching bag for their violent outbursts.
   In fact, there had been this one time, that Désiré had actually ended up in the hospital, due to broken ribs.
As Désiré stared, the newcomer stumbled across the threshold, knocking into tables and chairs. "Doesn't one of you useless people wanna gimme a chair!?" The young man yelled.
"Sit him at the isolation table," the sudden arrival of Connor's steady, and deep voice, shook Désiré back to reality.
Désiré tried to hide his shock. "Wh-what?" He asked Connor, not sure if he had heard his employer correctly.
"The isolation table," Connor repeated, as he placed a reassuring hand, on Désiré's shoulder, "I promise, I will not let him hurt you."
Désiré swallowed, and gave Connor a slight nod. "I-I'll hold you t-to that," Désiré told Connor.
As Désiré neared the young man, he held out his hand, trying to reassure him. "S-s-sir? I have a t-table ready for you," Désiré stammered, as he fought to gain control of his nerves.
When the man turned to face Désiré, his face was a mix of violence, and dislike. Désiré shrank back, sure that the man would strike out. But he didn't.
"It's 'bout time..." came the slurred answer, "... 'Was startin' t'think you guys weren't gonna serve me... *HIC!*"
   "That's w-what we're here for, s-s-sir," Désiré laughed nervously, as he cautiously guided the man to the isolation table.
   He had to complement Connor, on his decision to place the newcomer at this table. At least now, if the man started to make a scene, he would be far enough away from the other, less aggravated customers.
    As soon as the man was seated, Désiré inquired if there was anything that he would like to drink. 🐶🐜🌾🐉, Désiré really hoped that the man did not want a drink, as he seemed to already be on the verge of passing out.
    The young man seemed to consider  Désiré's offer, as his bloodshot eyes seemed to roam unconsciously, over towards the main bar. However, he suddenly seemed to regain his composure, just as Désiré was heading back towards the bar— "Maybe..." the man said, catching Désiré's attention, "I don't think should..." his voice had a hint of uncertainty about it.
    Always on the more intuitive side, Désiré, heard the pain behind the inebriation. "D-do you need to talk about s-s-something?" Désiré asked, as he sat down at the table, across from the man.
   "Sure," the man shrugged.
"Well," Désiré began, "what do y-you n-need to talk about?"
The young man huffed out what Désiré thought was meant to be a laugh, and then took off on a spiel "Would you believe that he finally decided to call me!? After five years!?
Désiré had absolutely no idea, about who he was. But either way, this guy was obviously going through a tough time.
"...And when he called, he was just like "Hey," the man continued, "I mean... seriously, what gave him the idea that I even wanted to hear from him!?"
   Désiré scrunched up his face in confusion. He was not exactly sure if the guy wanted a reply, or not.
   "Hey!" The young man suddenly raised his voice, causing Désiré to snap to attention, and also gained a wary glance from Connor.
    "H-hey, h-hey. Y-you have to k-keep it down, okay?" Désiré told the customer, in the most soothing voice he could muster.
     The guy looked at Désiré in complete shock, " Well," he began, "I asked you a 🐶🐜🌾🐉 question, and you looked at me like you were holding a lemon in your mouth."
   "O-oh!" Désiré said, smiling nervously. He could tell that he was blushing from embarrassment.
"So what!? You think this is funny!?" The guy demanded.
Désiré swallowed, and searched for the right words. Regrettably, "U-um... N-n-no... No," was apparently all that he could come up with.
   The young, inebriated customer, was suddenly peering closely (a little too closely) at Désiré, through squinted, red eyes. "Hey there, kid," his voice lowered to a soft whisper, "are you afraid of me?"
   Désiré seemed to have suddenly found the courage to look the guy in the eyes, and say three simple words "I. Am. Not." He said this, slowly, and with a hint of darkness in voice. How dare this guy suggest that he, Désiré Levine, was scared. Nervous? Yes. Scared? No.
"Huh," the customer laughed humorlessly, as he sat back into the chair, "whatever. What drink would you recommend, kid?"
"I-I'm not a kid," Désiré said defiantly, slowly gaining the upper hand of his nervousness, "and as f-for the drink... how about n-none?"
The man glared, and Désiré thought for sure, that he had struck the wrong chord. But surprisingly, the guy just laughed it off. "You have guts, kid," he said, as he stood up from the table.
To Désiré's horror, he realized that the guy was going to try, and leave. Not good! He seriously, couldn't even walk straight!
Just as Désiré was reaching out towards the customer, in hopes of deterring him from leaving, the guy turned towards him with a rather funny smile, and said something that Désiré was very sure he would regret in the morning— "You know what, kiddo? You are sooo beautiful." And just like that, he was out like a light.
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"Do you think we should report this to the authorities?" Connor asked, as he and Désiré, carried the unconscious customer to the back of Connor's car.
   "I really don't know..." Désiré's voice trailed off, as he glanced around, trying to figure out which car belonged to their currently unconscious charge.
  "What do you mean!?" Connor demanded, as he fumbled for his car keys.
   "Well," Désiré began, "first of all, Connor, you and I both know, that the 'authorities' around here, are not understanding with... well... our kind."
   "You mean us 'Uselesses'?" Connor asked, shifting into a position that he could open the door, and hold the guy up, at the same time.
   "Yeah," Désiré gasped, as he helped Connor to lift, and place (more like dump) the guy onto the back bench seat of the car. "Geez, this guy seriously weighs a ton!"
    At that moment, a flash of gold fell from the young man's shirt pocket, and onto the ground.
"Hey! Check this out, Des," Connor said, as he bent down to pick up object.
Désiré glanced up, and asked "What is it?"
"Looks like A Usefulness Level Tag," Connor answered, as he rubbed at the dirt and rust that was on it. What he saw, was a shock to both himself, and Désiré. "Sweet mother of...! THIS GUY IS A LEVEL NINETY USEFUL'!" Connor exclaimed.
"Well,
what is he doing here?" Désiré wondered out loud.
But Connor could only shrug, as he placed the tag back into the guy's pocket, and patted it. "You will definitely want to keep track of that, buddy," Connor whispered to the unconscious former customer.
"I don't know," Connor said, in answer to Désiré's understandable question, "maybe he had a bad day?"
"Maybe..." Désiré said to himself. However, he felt that there was more to this guy's story than just a bad day. And if he was being completely honest, he had never heard of a 'Useful,' having a bad day. No, bad days were saved especially, for a 'Useless'.
    After they made sure that the 'Useful' was properly packed into the car, Désiré shut the door.
   "Maybe I could take him to my place, and let him recover from his misadventures of tonight," Désiré suggested. "That way, he will be able to get some rest. Then in the morning, hopefully, he should be sober enough to get back to wherever he came from."
A sly smile found it's way onto Connor's face. And before Désiré could take back his suggestion, Connor lost it.
"Guess you couldn't help yourself, after he called you beautiful!" Connor was practically rolling with laughter.
"Would you please stop that? I already heard enough of that from the customers." Désiré said, rolling his eyes.
    As if the doors had been waiting for Désiré to say that, the doors were pushed open by a satisfied customer, allowing the revelrous laughter, and talk, about how "little Désiré, finally got noticed."
   Désiré glared at the humorous door, and knew that Connor was never going to let him live this one down.
"I mean, seriously, man! You're a 'Useless,' and this guy is like... well, not a 'Useless.'"
   "Dude," Désiré said, beginning to get frustrated, "seriously, stop."
    Never wanting to upset Désiré, Connor stopped laughing. "I'm sorry. That was really out of line," he apologized.
    "I forgive you," Désiré said, and Connor smiled.
    Now, it was time to switch to the seriousness of the situation. "Please call me, if he gives you any trouble. Okay, Désiré?" Connor said, in a serious tone of voice.
   "I will," Désiré promised.
   "Borrow my car. You can leave your bike here for tonight," Connor told Désiré, who nodded his thanks.
    As he watched Désiré drive away, Connor felt a wave of uneasiness wash over him. It was almost as if there was an impending cloud of doom, that had suddenly settled over this part of the city.
   However, Connor was quick to brush the unwelcome feeling away. Besides, what was he so worried about? Désiré had lasted this long... what could possibly go wrong?
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As Désiré pulled up into a parking stall at the Side Street Motel, his home, he heard a moan drifting up from his unconscious passenger.
Désiré glanced back. What exactly made him offer to take in this random stranger, he would never really know.
But what Désiré did know, was that he had a feeling that this was the start, to either a new beginning, or the end of his life.
And in the end, he would be right... on both counts.