talking.
People were afraid Ash wasn’t around because she lost her edge over Mofet’s death. That she didn’t want to be here anymore, and neither did Lily. Zayzl saw his opportunity and fed the rumors, but they didn’t stick. On the nights he did get out of her way and let her spin, she clearly hadn’t lost a thing. In fact, she just kept getting better. The cooler she was, the more he fought to get a rise out of her, but nothing worked.
There were many theories concerning why she didn’t kick his bony ass on more than one occasion: loyalty to Mofet, loyalty to the bar, she had nowhere else to go, needed the dough, blah, blah, blah.
I knew the real reason.
Lily.
Ash put up with all of it for Lily.
If the bar was closed, those two were nowhere to be found. They’d take off on Ash’s bike at dawn and come rolling through the doors right when they opened. It drove Zayzl nuts, partly because he was a control freak, and partly because he felt left out. He thought they were up to something, and he scheduled excuses to keep them hanging around, but they were laughable. Like cleaning day. Like Jyhad night.
He had a valid point, though.
It felt like the family was fragmenting. But then the sun set, happy hour hit, and the house came to life. Our ability to pack the place was solid, even when nothing else was, and all’s well until dawn.
But then one night Ash and Lily didn’t show.
Chapter 10
I didn’t think anything of it, at first.
Zayzl stomped up to the booth to put on some music, grumbling about Ash being late. It was such a farce. Everybody knew he’d use any excuse to hop on the board. He annoyed the hell out of my regulars with some off-format crap for about an hour, and then people started trickling through the door, asking for Ash at the main bar. They wandered up to the DJ booth like sheep, confused, disoriented and overdressed, requesting songs Zayzl wasn’t playing. It got nasty. He could’ve won them over that night just by following the damn list, but he was so pissed off they were asking for Ash he didn’t see his opportunity.
And then I glanced up, and she was standing at the back door alone, dripping all over the floor, dressed in leather with bits of leaves stuck to her face. She looked like the Lady of the Lake’s hot girlfriend. She scanned the room, a little crazy around the eyes. I waved her over with one hand and poured her a shot with the other. My gut told me we were about to get to know one another better, and sure enough, she ducked under my bar, avoiding her usual seat. She tossed back the shot, motioned for another, leaned against the cooler, and lit a cigarette. She didn’t say a word, so I just kept pouring. Finally she looked up at me with an awkward laugh, wiped her nose with the back of her hand and rolled her eyes.
I knew exactly what she meant.
Then Zayzl train-wrecked “Enjoy the Silence” into “Personal Jesus,” and Ash’s head snapped around like Beetlejuice. Several painful gasps came from the dance crowd, followed by a round of shrieking from the Moders.
“He knows that’s the same band twice, right?” I asked.
“Tough to say.”
“I’ll get a sitter and meet you in the booth.”
“Yeah,” she said. She didn’t look away from Zayzl. “Bring the bottle. And one to break over his head. Something cheap.”
Somehow she made it across the dance floor and up the stairs to the booth without getting ambushed by any crazed dancers with unanswered prayers. I saw her lips move, and then Zayzl took off down the stairs. He grabbed the register tape as he went by the front door and stomped off to the back office like he had work to do. Three of my girls volunteered to step up so I could follow Ash. They’d do anything to keep Zayzl off the board.
I got the booze she wanted and another pack of smokes. As I was crossing the dance floor, Depeche Mode faded out, and Ash mumbled something over the mic. The bar roared back to life at the sound of her
People were afraid Ash wasn’t around because she lost her edge over Mofet’s death. That she didn’t want to be here anymore, and neither did Lily. Zayzl saw his opportunity and fed the rumors, but they didn’t stick. On the nights he did get out of her way and let her spin, she clearly hadn’t lost a thing. In fact, she just kept getting better. The cooler she was, the more he fought to get a rise out of her, but nothing worked.
There were many theories concerning why she didn’t kick his bony ass on more than one occasion: loyalty to Mofet, loyalty to the bar, she had nowhere else to go, needed the dough, blah, blah, blah.
I knew the real reason.
Lily.
Ash put up with all of it for Lily.
If the bar was closed, those two were nowhere to be found. They’d take off on Ash’s bike at dawn and come rolling through the doors right when they opened. It drove Zayzl nuts, partly because he was a control freak, and partly because he felt left out. He thought they were up to something, and he scheduled excuses to keep them hanging around, but they were laughable. Like cleaning day. Like Jyhad night.
He had a valid point, though.
It felt like the family was fragmenting. But then the sun set, happy hour hit, and the house came to life. Our ability to pack the place was solid, even when nothing else was, and all’s well until dawn.
But then one night Ash and Lily didn’t show.
Chapter 10
I didn’t think anything of it, at first.
Zayzl stomped up to the booth to put on some music, grumbling about Ash being late. It was such a farce. Everybody knew he’d use any excuse to hop on the board. He annoyed the hell out of my regulars with some off-format crap for about an hour, and then people started trickling through the door, asking for Ash at the main bar. They wandered up to the DJ booth like sheep, confused, disoriented and overdressed, requesting songs Zayzl wasn’t playing. It got nasty. He could’ve won them over that night just by following the damn list, but he was so pissed off they were asking for Ash he didn’t see his opportunity.
And then I glanced up, and she was standing at the back door alone, dripping all over the floor, dressed in leather with bits of leaves stuck to her face. She looked like the Lady of the Lake’s hot girlfriend. She scanned the room, a little crazy around the eyes. I waved her over with one hand and poured her a shot with the other. My gut told me we were about to get to know one another better, and sure enough, she ducked under my bar, avoiding her usual seat. She tossed back the shot, motioned for another, leaned against the cooler, and lit a cigarette. She didn’t say a word, so I just kept pouring. Finally she looked up at me with an awkward laugh, wiped her nose with the back of her hand and rolled her eyes.
I knew exactly what she meant.
Then Zayzl train-wrecked “Enjoy the Silence” into “Personal Jesus,” and Ash’s head snapped around like Beetlejuice. Several painful gasps came from the dance crowd, followed by a round of shrieking from the Moders.
“He knows that’s the same band twice, right?” I asked.
“Tough to say.”
“I’ll get a sitter and meet you in the booth.”
“Yeah,” she said. She didn’t look away from Zayzl. “Bring the bottle. And one to break over his head. Something cheap.”
Somehow she made it across the dance floor and up the stairs to the booth without getting ambushed by any crazed dancers with unanswered prayers. I saw her lips move, and then Zayzl took off down the stairs. He grabbed the register tape as he went by the front door and stomped off to the back office like he had work to do. Three of my girls volunteered to step up so I could follow Ash. They’d do anything to keep Zayzl off the board.
I got the booze she wanted and another pack of smokes. As I was crossing the dance floor, Depeche Mode faded out, and Ash mumbled something over the mic. The bar roared back to life at the sound of her
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