new bar in Lodo called Lime Bar, which was a few blocks from their office and just down the street from Coors Field.
True to its name, virtually everything in the bar, including the walls, was painted a brilliant lime green. The exception was the furniture, which consisted of white plastic tables and chairs that looked like something straight out of the sixties. Large flat screens were mounted around the bar, showing an endless loop of computer-animated images.
Brandi was one of the graphic artists on the staff. She had just gotten a job with a big advertising firm in LA, and tomorrow was her last day. Brandi was one of the more colorful characters in the office, quite literally. She wore dark eyeliner, had a nose ring and a pierced tongue, and wore her short, spiky hair in virtually every color of the rainbow, depending on her mood.
Across the table from her, Charlie ordered another vodka and Red Bull. It was his fourth or fifth one, and it was beginning to show. He seemed to be vacillating between morose and loud and obnoxious. Although he had never said anything, Carrie could tell Charlie had a crush on Brandi—in spite of the fact that she was a lesbian—and although he was trying to hide it, he was clearly distraught.
Then Carrie caught a glimpse of someone across the bar that caused her heart to freeze. The place was so dark that she wasn’t sure, but she thought she had seen Bret. The guy picked up his beer from the bar, turned around, and leaned against the counter, his face lighting up briefly in the ever-shifting light. It wasn’t him. Carrie quietly sighed in relief. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she had spent the entire evening watching for him, afraid of running into him, even though she knew he would never come to a place like this.
She checked her watch. It was a little after 9:30. She decided she had had enough fun for the evening. She leaned over and thanked Allan for the drinks and told him she was going home.
“Are you sure?” He practically yelled to be heard over the loud music. “You know I told everyone they don’t have to come in until ten tomorrow.”
“I know,” Carrie yelled back, issuing a fake yawn. “But I’m getting tired, and I need to go check on my cat.”
“All right, you be careful now,” he said with a pat on her arm.
Carrie stood and waved at Brandi across the table, wishing her luck in LA. Brandi blew her a kiss and winked mischievously.
Carrie was still smiling as she walked outside. She loved working with the quirky but talented staff that Allan had put together. There was a youthful energy and a sense of family about the place that she knew would be missing at any of the big papers. That was why she had turned down the offer from the Post .
Her car was parked along the curb on the same side of the street about a half a block down. As she neared, she pushed the button on her remote. The horn bleeped twice, and the yellow turn signal lights blinked as the door unlocked. She was about to open the door when someone behind her said, “Carrie.”
It was Bret. She didn’t know where he had come from; he had just appeared from the darkened shadows beside the building. He’s been there waiting for me all this time.
“Bret, what are you doing?” she asked, trying not to sound terrified.
“Me?” he said. “What the fuck are you doing? You going out, getting drunk, looking to get laid? Is that it? If that’s what you want, I can give you that.” He spoke quickly, excitedly, as if he was jacked up on something.
He was upon her before she could even think to do anything. He grabbed her and squeezed her arms painfully as he tried to kiss her. His wild eyes shone with an unnatural light. His breath stank of booze and cigarettes.
Carrie tied to pull away, but his grip was too tight. She could feel his fingers grinding against the bones in her arms. She gasped in pain, but this only seemed to excite him. He tried to turn her, to pin her against the car.
True to its name, virtually everything in the bar, including the walls, was painted a brilliant lime green. The exception was the furniture, which consisted of white plastic tables and chairs that looked like something straight out of the sixties. Large flat screens were mounted around the bar, showing an endless loop of computer-animated images.
Brandi was one of the graphic artists on the staff. She had just gotten a job with a big advertising firm in LA, and tomorrow was her last day. Brandi was one of the more colorful characters in the office, quite literally. She wore dark eyeliner, had a nose ring and a pierced tongue, and wore her short, spiky hair in virtually every color of the rainbow, depending on her mood.
Across the table from her, Charlie ordered another vodka and Red Bull. It was his fourth or fifth one, and it was beginning to show. He seemed to be vacillating between morose and loud and obnoxious. Although he had never said anything, Carrie could tell Charlie had a crush on Brandi—in spite of the fact that she was a lesbian—and although he was trying to hide it, he was clearly distraught.
Then Carrie caught a glimpse of someone across the bar that caused her heart to freeze. The place was so dark that she wasn’t sure, but she thought she had seen Bret. The guy picked up his beer from the bar, turned around, and leaned against the counter, his face lighting up briefly in the ever-shifting light. It wasn’t him. Carrie quietly sighed in relief. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she had spent the entire evening watching for him, afraid of running into him, even though she knew he would never come to a place like this.
She checked her watch. It was a little after 9:30. She decided she had had enough fun for the evening. She leaned over and thanked Allan for the drinks and told him she was going home.
“Are you sure?” He practically yelled to be heard over the loud music. “You know I told everyone they don’t have to come in until ten tomorrow.”
“I know,” Carrie yelled back, issuing a fake yawn. “But I’m getting tired, and I need to go check on my cat.”
“All right, you be careful now,” he said with a pat on her arm.
Carrie stood and waved at Brandi across the table, wishing her luck in LA. Brandi blew her a kiss and winked mischievously.
Carrie was still smiling as she walked outside. She loved working with the quirky but talented staff that Allan had put together. There was a youthful energy and a sense of family about the place that she knew would be missing at any of the big papers. That was why she had turned down the offer from the Post .
Her car was parked along the curb on the same side of the street about a half a block down. As she neared, she pushed the button on her remote. The horn bleeped twice, and the yellow turn signal lights blinked as the door unlocked. She was about to open the door when someone behind her said, “Carrie.”
It was Bret. She didn’t know where he had come from; he had just appeared from the darkened shadows beside the building. He’s been there waiting for me all this time.
“Bret, what are you doing?” she asked, trying not to sound terrified.
“Me?” he said. “What the fuck are you doing? You going out, getting drunk, looking to get laid? Is that it? If that’s what you want, I can give you that.” He spoke quickly, excitedly, as if he was jacked up on something.
He was upon her before she could even think to do anything. He grabbed her and squeezed her arms painfully as he tried to kiss her. His wild eyes shone with an unnatural light. His breath stank of booze and cigarettes.
Carrie tied to pull away, but his grip was too tight. She could feel his fingers grinding against the bones in her arms. She gasped in pain, but this only seemed to excite him. He tried to turn her, to pin her against the car.
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