Three days later, I headed into The Overpass thinking if one was going to make a movie about a girl getting murdered in a seedy bar, this would be the one they’d choose. At least there was zero chance of running into anyone who knew me. I was meeting Ezzie because I couldn’t do this alone anymore. I sauntered in and didn’t quite know where to look, or where not to make eye contact, first. I decided sitting at the bar was my best bet as most of the patrons were shooting pool or playing darts. The two doing whatever it was they were doing in the booth was further testimony that I had chosen wisely to avoid sitting on those seats.
“What’s your poison?” the bartender asked, looking me up and down.
“Do people really say that?” I asked, belatedly thinking this might not be a person to question. “I’ll have an appletini please.”
He smiled brutishly revealing a gold incisor, and before he could say more, a voice behind me said, “She’ll have a vodka seven, extra limes Sarge.”
“You got it Hitch,” he said and wandered off supposedly to make my drink.
I swiveled around on my barstool and found myself staring squarely into a chest. When I tilted my head up, way up, I was looking into a handsome face with a five o’clock shadow. Chocolate brown eyes laughed back at me, and my drink order-er had a bandana tied biker style over his head. He was big, intimidating, and had an air of both danger and importance about him.
“So,” I started, “Mr. ‘Hitch’ is it? Do you make a habit of deciding what people should drink, or am I receiving some sort of special attention?”
A slow, wicked smile crossed his face and he drawled, “Oh you’re receiving attention alright, and I’m pretty sure it’s not the kind you want. Does this look like the kind of bar that has appletinis to you?”
I looked around and noticed I was being watched by, well, by everyone, even though they pretended to be going about their business.
“So, making me drink a vodka seven is you, doing me some sort of favor?”
“Yes. Yes, it absolutely is. Of all the bars in town, what in the heck made you walk into this one? You are clearly not from the neighborhood.”
“Well Bogey, I think the line is, ‘of all the gin joints, in all the towns’ but you were close.”
“I’m serious, you slummin or something?”
I had purposely dressed down for the occasion. White jeans, an emerald green sleeveless silk blouse with matching T-strap Saint Laurent espadrille wedges. No jewelry, except a gold serpentine necklace, but I had deliberately left off the emerald slide.
“No,” I said indignantly, “I am not ‘slumming.’ I am just waiting for a girlfriend.”
“Mmm Hmm, is she from the neighborhood?”
“Well, we’re both from, ‘a’ neighborhood. I just moved here, and I thought this would be a nice place to meet,”
“Mmm Hmm.”
“You said that already.”
I heard a collective inhalation as the door opened, letting in a waft of warm summer air and a long, cool, blond, My bestie, Ezzie. Esmeralda Gold had been my best friend since kindergarten when I poured a carton of milk over Janet Jargotto’s head just because she had such shiny black hair, and I couldn’t resist seeing the contrast. When I explained my perfectly rational decision to a clearly irrational teacher, Esmeralda walked over, her blonde ponytail swinging, and said, “Mrs. Altman, it is obvious Vivianna has an eye for art and you do not!” We spent two weeks together in the office during recess cementing a lifelong bond. I had never seen Ezzie enter a room, from kindergarten to this very moment, without varying degrees of head turns and gasps. She was five foot nine inches of gorgeous. Long perfect legs, long perfectly highlighted hair, long eyelashes over blue eyes which were surprisingly close to the color of an Ikea shopping bag, and long confident strides that invariably left jaws dropped.
“Good lord,” Hitch muttered as he shook his head.
“Hey Babe,” Ezzie purred as she glided over and pulled me into a big genuine hug. “I’ve missed you. What’s up with the weird number, and why was I supposed to dress down?”
This brought another arrogant smile to Hitch’s face as he unapologetically listened in. Ezzie was completely unaffected by the response her looks garnered and oblivious to what ‘dressing down’ was supposed to mean. She was wearing a royal blue pleated sundress with matching Jimmy Choo strappy sandals.
“Ez, you’re wearing Halston, that’s hardly dressing down,” I said, shaking my head at her and giving Hitch my best, ‘what are you still doing here?’ look.
“It’s last season! I had to pull it out of the giveaway bag,” she said with a look indicating I should have known as much.
Sarge, the bartender, brought my vodka seven over, and before he could say anything Ezzie said, “I’ll have whatever smoke-infused bourbon you’re serving tonight with a two-by-two ice block please.”
Sarge looked at Hitch who said, “She’ll have a Beam on the rocks.”
“He’s our interpreter apparently,” I explained when Ezzie raised a perfect eyebrow to give him the once-over. Turning my back on Hitch I blurted out my next sentence without taking a breath, “Ezzie, I need a job and a place to live, I have been sleeping in a storage container for the last three days and showering at the club, but they told me today I would need to pay for next month now because the auto-payment didn’t go through, and I can’t afford to do that, and I don’t want to wash my hair at a gas station. Again. And eventually, it will get cold, and I’m ruining the upholstery on my chaise by sleeping on it.”
I burst into tears because I hadn’t planned on saying so much, especially in a single breath, and I really was feeling overwhelmed, confused, and scared. “Did I mention Daddy is out of the country hiding, and all the money’s gone?”
“Excuse me, did you say you were sleeping in a storage unit?” Hitch asked over my shoulder.
“You really do have a problem with being nosey, did you know that?” I sniffed.
“Occupational hazard,” he said.
“What? Are you like paparazzi or something?” Ezzie asked, squinting her eyes and looking him up and down.
“No, I’m a pastor,” he answered with that same irritating grin.
“Well, Father, I’m not sure that is an excuse for eavesdropping,” Ezzie flung back.
Hitch looked at her and smirked, “Can’t help it, I tend to get involved. I care about people.”
“Actually,” I interrupted, “I said, you were nosey, nobody said anything about you being caring.”
“Semantics, and I can help with a job and place to live,” he said.
Carrin Mahmood 