wish you were here

He looked around frantically for the door but he could find no seams, no knob, no way out. He turned to peer in front of him down a  long, grey-white hallway dimly illuminated with overhead fluorescent lights, its dingy white walls punctuated by closed doors. As he began to gather his wits he began noticing faint screams and yelling all around him that seemed to be coming from somewhere incredibly close yet very far away. He began cautiously moving down the hall, trying to find a way out.

As he approached the first door, about ten feet from where he entered, he peered cautiously through the tiny porthole window. An image flashed before his eyes for a split second, then a blindingly bright light seared his eyes and obliterated everything he’d seen for that split second. But a split second was already enough. He could have sworn he’d seen a man stretched on a rack-like device with a midget shoving a hot poker up his ass.

No- there is no way I saw that, he thought. This must be a nightmare - or am I hallucinating because of the stress? What the hell is this place? Some kind of underground sex torture club? He kept trying to convince himself that none of this was real and he would wake up any minute back in his bed.

“Ok it’s time to wake up, wake up, wake up!” He muttered, punching and slapping himself as he moved away from the door and down the hall again. As he passed more doors he continued seeing the most grotesque flashes of imagery, each more horrifying than the last - a woman swallowing hot coals over and over as they burned through her lower extremities; a group of the most evil looking children imaginable beating a man with barbed wire-wrapped bats as he swung helpless and shreiking, upside down like a piñata. ‘What the fuck is this place?’ He gasped aloud to himself, freaking out so much now he could barely breathe. As the adrenaline began to surge through his body he began moving down the hall, suddenly finding himself running full speed, running so fast each door’s flashing lights appeared like strobe lights at a rave. The impossible, nightmarish images kept flashing by, seeping almost subconsciously into his brain. He looked up from his feet just in time to see a door swing open, and SMACK! Out cold.

Kitty was serving her section when she realized suddenly that none of the beer order had been stocked behind the bar. She went back to the walk-in where she noticed that some boxes sat strangely out of place near an abandoned hand truck. She looked around for the delivery guy then suddenly realized that the path between the boxes led to an ominous-looking door at the very back of the cooler. “Oh shit!” She exclaimed. “This is gonna suck ass, we are all getting chewed out for this one.” She tore out of the walk in to tell the others.

“Guys, listen up!” She hissed as she ran into the bar.

“What, what’s wrong babe?” Baron asked.

Out of breath from running, Kitty explained “You know the door in the back of the walk-in?”

“Uh- yeah.” Dominick said in his usual dismissive tone.

“Yeah,” She replied sarcastically through clenched teeth, “Well, it appears the delivery guy might have found his way through it.”

Their faces grew panicked just as Rose returned from the back room carrying a tray of empty bottles.

“How the hell? Who the fuck let him in there alone!” Dominick exclaimed with barely concealed terror.

“Who let who in where?” Rose asked as they all spun around to face her.

“Excuse me miss can I get that beer?” A patron across the room pleaded with Kitty.

“FUCK OFF I’M BUSY!” She shrieked.

“No door, no door, no door…”  he muttered as he lifted himself off of the floor, wishing he had anyone else to talk to.  Anyone.  Even his old History teacher, Miss Eldridge.

He blinked, pursing his lips in confusion.  Miss Eldridge?  Why had she come to mind?

Shaking his head, he tried to rid his brain of her image.  He shook his head again like a dog coming out of a murky pool of water, as though she clung to his hair. 

A scream from a room to his left.  He jumped, looking over at the plain door.  Gray.

Like Miss Eldridge’s hair.

“Oh fuck no,” he said to himself, lunging for the door.  Whatever was in there was better than being —

“Well well…”  the voice came from behind him. 

He stopped, his hand so close to the doorknob, another scream from inside the room beyond that door beckoned him.  The scream was gut-wrenching, from the very base of someone’s spine.  Suffering.  Throat filled with blood and phlegm.

He had never been so jealous of anyone as he was right now, turning to face Miss Eldridge.

“You deliver beer.”  She stood as tall as she had when he was a child.  Impossible.  She couldn’t have been an inch over five foot back then, only a  giant because he was so young, but even now she towered over him. 

He looked down to see if he was a little boy again, but his adult body, gangly with the little pot belly he got fair and square from his last relationship with the pastry chef, and the bad taste in shoes, and the jeans he wore so low they had frayed hems all seemed in place.

“I expected as much.”  Her voice was like the shards of winter that could cut up the cuffs of his coat, sneaking between his sweater and wrist.  Sneaky.  Colder than lies.

He felt his crotch go loose and the warm flow of urine on down his thighs.

“I wanna go home, I wanna go home…”  he whimpered softly. 

“I can show you something better,”  She said, leaning forward, her sweet pink face going from soft powdered grandma to gaping maw of glass teeth.

Tom felt her hot breath on his face as she leaned in, ready to bite his neck.  He screamed, loud, strangled, and stepped backwards, just as her glass teeth slammed together dusting his shirt with tiny ground shards.  He didn’t dare inhale, the glass was so close. 

Miss Eldridge opened her mouth again, the gums bleeding from where the glass had jammed in tighter, carving room for the shiny teeth.  Her eyes glistened with red tears and fury.

“No,”  Tom whispered, stepping back again, expecting to feel the wall but touching nothing.  ”No,” He repeated, louder this time, wanting to look but scared to turn his back even for a blinking second. 

“No, no,”  he whimpered, now walking backwards as Miss Eldridge cranked open her jaw wide, blood running down her lips and chin, gurgling with it in the back of her throat.  She swallowed without closing her mouth.

Tom screamed and turned around, prepared to run right through the fucking wall if he had to. 

No wall. 

No wall, no door.

No wall, no door, no hallway even.  Just a huge expanse of parkland, prime and bright, sunlight dappled with a few happy families feasting Leave-it-to-Beaver style along the grass.

Tom wondered if Miss Eldridge was still behind him but he wondered this while starting to run as fast as his little legs and lungs would carry him.

At first Tom ran because he knew she was right behind him, then he ran because it dried the tears he was crying, then he ran because the world around him wasn’t changing at all.  Like he was in a loop of a film, passing the same three families on the left side — one with a mother, a father, two little tow-headed boys, the next with a red-haired mother whose breasts strained against her cotton shirt and a son with a truck in one hand and something living in the other, the last family again a mother and father, both brown haired, with two little girls dancing on the blanket.

He passed them for the fourth time, panting, and slowed down when he came alongside the two little girls dancing.  They held hands and spun each other under, one at a time, grinning.  Twin charmers.

Tom slowed more when he saw one little girl had a dead weasel in her free hand, then stopped short when he saw the writhing clear plastic bag of maggots in the other girl’s hand.

The dark-haired mother waved him over, grinning, her sweet pink lips parting to show an empty maw.  Toothless and sallow, her face started to implode.

Tom started running again and felt something heavy hit his leg.  He looked down to see a burst bag of maggots on his jeans cuff, the ground and his shoe crawling with them.

“Gah!”  He screamed, frantically shaking his leg, spraying larvae in all directions.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he screamed, jumping up and down, trying to get rid of the maggots and get away from the hand.  Turning, he came face to face with the red-haired mother, a concerned look on her face.

“You all right, honey?”  She asked.

Tom shook his leg again.  ”Mag- maggots.  On me.”

She looked down, licking her lips, and grabbed his leg with her soft, pretty hands.  As she pulled him off his feet, Tom felt the terror of knowing he was about to land on a sidewalk full of maggots but even worse, he could not avoid looking down her blouse.  On one full, warm breast an eye lazily opened to look back at him.

Tom screamed as the woman started licking the maggots off his leg and shoe, her breast popping out of her shirt, winking at him.

“Shit, shit, SHIT!” Dominick screamed, worried what Lilith would do to him when she found out.

“I wonder what he’s going through right now,” Baron mused dreamily, his gaze distant, glazed over.

“Oh, probably being tortured by some childhood memory,” Kitty rejoined, never breaking the trance of her duties.

“Whatever it is, I wish I was in there wit ‘em,” came a voice from the other side of the bar. It was Ralphie. “What’re you guys so worried about, afraid of a little fun?” Ralphie approached the others, shifting his trousers around his hips in anticipation of what lie ahead. His demeanor was not unlike a man bracing himself for a night of passionate lovemaking. The others remained frantic, fearing the return of Lilith and her wrath. Dominick could not stop himself from pacing up and down the bar, periodically crouching to release a shriek of despair into a nearby bar towel.

Baron sat transfixed at the bar, in a state of fascination and wonder. The dreams of his childhood flooded his cerebral cortex and for the first time in his adult life he remembered what it felt like to be protected by his innocent ignorance of youth in a world of delusion and damnation. He remembered the first lady bug he killed, then the first firefly, then the first rodent, then the first cat. In this moment, Baron could not be distracted by even the most shrill and shrieking of voices.

Kitty continued to clean in hopes that, when Lilith returned, her hard work would be acknowledged and offset the ire sure to be caused by the present crisis. She knew this was the type of behavior that pushed her away emotionally from her co-workers but this compulsion was totally out of her control. Legend has it that Kitty was formerly a close confidant of Lilith’s - some even say, her partner in crime. Kitty and Lilith were actually childhood friends and shared a bond unlike any of their pre-pubescent peers. For them, their friendship transcended riding bikes and playing with dolls; it was a commitment more powerful and lasting than vows of marriage and faith. Their partnership only grew stronger as they grew older and they began to notice a power manifesting itself at the core of both of their beings. Unfortunately this power was never intended to be shared, for it was an envious and conniving power. It started slowly creeping into the tiniest cracks of their intracellular bond, eating away at lost memories and material fixations. As time passed, the cracks grew deeper and wider until Evil had completely transformed the fabric of Kitty and Lilith’s relationship. One day, Lilith was summoned to the Dark Lord’s council and permanently made into one of Satan’s formal alter egos. The breath of pure evil, which henceforth inflated and manipulated Lilith’s body, drove a stake through her relationship with Kitty.

“Well, I dunno’ bout you all, but I’ma itchin’ to get in there.” Ralphie pleaded.

Dominick immediately replied, “Oh yeah, and just what do think Lilith’s going to do when she finds out, huh?”

Ralphie stood motionless with a blank look on his face, while he began to hatch a plan to enter Hell’s gateway. He longed for his return and wanted to show Lilith he was ready, too. He waited until Dominick let the subject go and then shuffled over to a booth in apparent defeat.

“Alright, we have to do something. Baron, you got anything?” Dominick asked. Baron didn’t move. “Baron?” Dominick asked again. But nothing came from Baron, who was still lost within his own thoughts, fantasizing about the abject torture that innocent man must be going through. “BARON!” Dominick yelled.

“Huh, what, what time is it?” Baron struggled to speak, as if waking up from a long, intense state of hibernation.

“I don’t know,” Dominick squints at his watch, “5 o’clock. Now what do you suggest we do about our situation here?”

“Beats me - what did Ralphie say?” Baron yawned, stretched, and let out a long sigh.

“He wants to go in there himself!” Dominick shrugged and laughed it off.

“What! If anyone should get to go in there it’s me,” Baron snapped out of his funk and sat up in his stool. He began to plot against Ralphie. “Pfff, Ralphie couldn’t do it.”

“Baron- no one is going in there!” Dominick grabbed Baron’s shirt and brought him closer, “Do I make myself clear?” Fear filled Baron’s eyes, his brow collected sweat.

He remembered the day he first met Dominick. It was nearly a hundred years ago and the memory was still vividly etched in his mind. Dominick was nearing the halfway point of his 500 years of servitude when Baron had arrived, arrogant and ambitious. Baron now thought he would have to prove himself to be let back into hell and the only way he knew was to assert his dominance. Dominick didn’t appear to be much of a competitor, but only the evil  on the inside counts. Dominick was far older and more experienced than Baron and knew what he had to do to maintain order.

One day Baron approached Dominick with a sly gaze. Dominick transformed the dark spirits of his rotten soul into a booming voice, audible only to Baron.

“This is my Portal!” the voice thundered, “Do not attempt what you seek!”

Baron stopped dead in his tracks at the sound and sight of Dominick, mouth open and eyes concealing the blackness of death. He felt something hold him back and couldn’t break its firm grasp.

Just then, Baron came to. “Hmm,” he squeaked. Dominick let go of his shirt and looked around the bar.

“Where’s Ralphie?”

“Uhh, am I interrupting something here?”

Tom looked up from his sexual horror to see a befuddled Alibi employee. It was the same guy who had signed his delivery receipt, an event which seemed so very long ago for having happened only twenty minutes earlier. Tom could feel the mother’s hot and scaly tongue run up and down his maggot-y leg. He looked back down to find that it wasn’t a tongue at all, but the venomous copperhead snake. As a kid, Tom was nearly bitten by a copperhead, and the terrifying memory had stuck with him.

“…because I can come back later…” Ralphie said amiably, as he backed away from the delivery man and his personalized version of hell.

“Help me!” Tom screamed.

Ralphie chuckled, as he often did when imagining the misfortunes of others. His own experience of hell had included a world run by teenagers, being buried alive in a rabbit hole, everyone’s face taking on his mother’s expression, and drinking hard liquor that literally burnt holes in his stomach. Ralphie decided to take pity on the poor sap and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

A black light emitted a spooky purplish color in the distance. Ralphie and the still-screaming Tom edged closer toward the end of delivery guy hell.

Back at the bar, Rose grew more curious about why everyone was so worried about the missing delivery guy. She thought it perfectly logical that the man had slipped out without anyone noticing. It’s not like any of her fellow servers, Kitty especially, were any good at paying attention to their surroundings. This thought crossed her mind as Kitty again shrieked, “MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!” from across the bar. Her last customer’s bill now paid, Rose decided to investigate the mystery of the missing delivery guy herself.

She approached the back room and started looking for clues. The delivery guy certainly didn’t seem to care too much about leaving his belongings behind. His hand truck stood, obviously abandoned, which did not bode well. All signs seemed to point toward the ominous-looking cooler door at the end of a row of empty beer boxes. As she made her way towards that door, she passed a blood-splattered bat with a single word carved into its wooden shaft: “Ratboy” propped against the wall on the right. Rose grabbed the bat and inched closer to the door. A singular, purplish light shone through the crack beneath. The fingers of her left hand clenched the door handle, while the fingers of her right gripped the bat. Rose drew a breath, and then another, and then one more, before opening the door.

“What’s all this, er, ruckus in here?” said a calm, commanding voice.

Bartenders, bar owners, and the newly hired bar server swiveled toward the voice in the doorway. The beauty kittens, pinkies extended, continued to slurp neon pink liquor from their martini saucers. A red stubble-faced, middle aged, utterly forgettable man paused in the doorway. Alibi staff instantly knew who it was but no one had ever bothered to learn his name.

They kept things strictly business with the health inspector. As Baron had once bluntly stated, none of them wanted to deal with “the nitty, gritty, dirty shit”, so they left that task to Ralphie, whose nocturnal cat-killing activities had given him a new appreciation for cleanliness. Mangy alley cats, one of the Alibi’s (and, coincidentally, Australia’s) number one vermin, as well as their disposal had, until Dom had silenced him, been Ralphie’s favorite topic of conversation.

“Hey Mr. Health Inspector! Did you see that cat he…?” Ralphie blurted, until he felt Dominick’s fingers dig deep into his left shoulder, silencing him.

Dominick chimed in, “Yeah, yeah, we were just deep cleaning!” As primary manager, he didn’t want the Health Inspector to sniff around more than was absolutely necessary. “We run a tight ship here”.

“Deep cleaning,” giggled Ralphie under his breath. “More like deep cut cleaning. Ow!” he yelped as Dom tightened his grip.

“What have you done about that rat infestation?” asked the Health Inspector. “We gave you a 30 day extension to take care of your problem.”

“Did he just say cat infestation?” the queen beauty slurred.

“Not cat,” snapped Kitty. “Rat.”

“RATS!” screamed another, even dimmer beauty.

“Oh pulease!”

The Health Inspector swung familiarly around the bar, snapping the switch of his flashlight and aiming.

“Let’s put this dive out of business” he mumbled under his breath. “C’mon…” he muttered as he sought the evidence that would finally close this dive for good. He was like the one cop in ten that enjoyed giving tickets so much that he’d pull over his grandmother if it meant racking up another moving citation. Suddenly, he spotted something.

“Well lookey here. What’s, err, this in that drink?”

“That in this drink,” toyed Rose. “Is a new garnish we’re trying out.” She hoped her flirtatiousness would disguise her nervousness. The drink was on her tray.

“You look really thirsty!” she continued, still working to distract attention from the pellets floating in the fresh drink on her tray. “How about a quick beer- just one won’t hurt…” She smiled sweetly up at him and touched his shoulder softly.

The health inspector hadn’t seen this one here before and wondered who she was.

“Why don’t you sit down for a few minutes? Just relax and let me get you something cold. You’re a beer man, right?” She said, glancing at his bulging shirt buttons, barely concealing a respectably large beer gut. Before he could answer, she set her tray down and ordered a Stella from Bobby Lee.

“I could use a little break…” he replied, partly succumbing to Rose’s soothing display of concern.

“I thought so- there!” she said, depositing a fresh beer in front of him. “What was your name again?” she asked, knowing full well he’d never said it. She placed herself squarely between his gaze and her drink tray, which Bobby Lee deftly emptied into the sink’s drain, quietly disposing of the evidence.

“Edmund Plimpton, but you can call me Ed,” said the inspector as he took a sip of the frosty beer, which left a mustache of foam on his upper lip.

“Rose.  It’s very nice to meet you, Ed.”  Eying his lip, Rose pulled a fresh white bar towel out of her apron pocket.  “Let me get that for you,” she said as she slowly wiped the foam away, allowing her hand to linger against his skin for just an extra fraction of a second.  Ed blushed, but quickly regained his composure.   He pushed the beer away from him and hopped off of his stool, all business again.

“So let’s see how well you really took care of the situation. Come here Dominick,” said the inspector as he pulled a small spray bottle out of his black briefcase.  By now, staff and customers had stopped what they were doing and watched Ed as he walked backwards, misting the floor with a clear liquid.

He took a backwards, zig-zag path between tables filled with patrons and culminated in front of the beer fridge behind the bar. “You see, rats drag their genitalia when they walk, leaving a nice trail of urine wherever they go.  Do you mind hitting the lights for me?”

As the inspector pulled a black light flashlight out of his pocket, Dominick, who had been standing off to the side, flicked the switch.  A faint purple light now radiated from behind the bar in the otherwise pitch-black room.

“If you still have rats, there will be blue lines all over this floor.”  Ed pointed his flashlight toward the ground, but all that shined back up at him was the purple reflection of his light off the wall tiles.  Grumbling under his breath, he retraced his path until he reached his starting point, but still no blue lines.  Ed let out a frustrated yelp as he switched his flashlight off.

Dominick flipped the switch, re-illuminating the bar and revealing a now bright red health inspector.  “See.  What’d I tell ya?”

Ed straightened abruptly and shook the surprised expression off of his face. He grew stern once again. “Well I guess you pass… This time…” he barked.

Dominick smirked and as he replied, “Of course we did, So we’ll see you next month, same time same place?”

Ed glared back for a second and then replied “Oh you’re not off the hook - yet. I haven’t checked the kitchen, walk-in, or the alley for proper garbage disposal. We have a long way to go.” I have them now! he thought.

Dominick shot a quick glance at Ralphie when Ed said ‘alley’. Ralphie complex expression mixed panic and pride. He was proud of what he was doing with those pesky cats but worried he might have to dispose of Ed. He glared at the health inspector, evil lurking behind his gaze. Dominick glared back at Ralphie, who crept toward the back door to clean up his alley masterpiece.

Ralphie huddled in his corner wearing an angry scowl as Dominic and Ed walked back in from the alley inspection.

“Looks like everything passed Dom - you don’t mind if I call you Dom do you?” The health inspector said, attempting to make friends with Dominick to mask the fact that he was wrong about the condition of the bar and was tired of being mocked any longer.

“Would you like another beer? On the house.” Dominick tried to ingratiate himself to Ed so he would hopefully not have to see him as much.

“Sure, thanks! I’m so glad you’ve addressed the violations.”

Just as Ed finished, a man sitting at a nearby table tilted his head until his face became visible under his hat brim and spoke. “Cleanliness is next to godliness. Since you love cleanliness so much I would assume you love God too.”

Ed spun about in his chair and didn’t know quiet what to say, “Um I guess, I’ve never been very religious.”

The man removed his hat. “Well then my friend, let me tell you a bit about him.”

The next day was a holiday of sorts. Bobby Lee, Ralphie, and the Baron had been given the day off for ending up in an unprecedented three-way tie for the Alibi Club’s bi-quarterly Employee of the Month prize. The award was designed by Lilith to reward those who performed best at recruiting and setting up tabs at the bar. At first glance it would have seemed more sensible to simply go by the numbers, but Lilith wanted the staff to feel like they had a voice in things…even if they didn’t. Of course, the voting became nothing more than a secret ballot popularity contest. This vote saw each of the three winners voting for themselves, Kitty voting for her love Baron, Dominick voting against Ralphie for Bobby Lee (Ralphie truthfully despised Bobby Lee), out of spite for all the cat killings, and Lilith filling out an absentee ballot for Ralphie (who had in fact set-up the most tabs at the Alibi).

So, what do three serial killers who run a bar do on their day off? They go to a bar, of course. Their chosen bar, the Ritzy Tipsy, was located on the other side of town in the swankier, gaudier part of Chicago. As in most bars, sin ran just as rampant as at the literal hell-hole that was the Alibi, but here it appeared more like a golden calf for its bovine public than a gateway to hell. Or so Ralphie ranted from time to time.

“I’m telling you, these rich assholes are so vain - their skin has more product in it than a three-story department store. No one’s worth wearing here,” Ralphie laughed maniacally. Drinking made Ralphie angry, dark, and a little stupid. The sad fact is he happened to actually be rather smart. He once held a PhD in Physics until all that unpleasant decapitation business in Portland. Most blamed the drinking on his mother, but he knew that without social lubricants, he’d remain forever shy and introverted.

“Yeah, but Ralphie, these chicks are fine,” the Baron retorted. “If Kitty didn’t have my dick in that pickle jar beneath the bar, I’d have my way forcibly with at least ten of these gorgeous babes. Don’t get all crabby just ‘cause you can’t get it up on account of your mommy issues.”

“Like you could count to ten, you moronic rapist,” Ralphie shot back between shots of whiskey.

“Guys!” Bobby Lee exclaimed. He may not have liked the Baron all that much, but he hated conflict. And a day off meant a day off from all the hubbub of the Alibi. “We’re supposed to be having fun. How about I tell a joke? OK, what has more brains than Kurt Cobain?”

Bobby Lee’s fellow barkeeps-turned-patrons looked at him quizzically.

“The wall behind him! WAH!” he squealed with intolerable glee.

Ralphie let out a brief chuckle while the Baron sunk, dull-eyed, into his sudsy beer.

“Dude, that’s seriously screwed up,” quipped the Baron. “His music spoke to me.”

Bobby Lee wanted to feel bad about this insult to the Baron, but he took too much joy in bringing the guy down. He gazed around the bar. “Where’s the bar nuts? I’m starving over here and there are no bar nuts.”

Ralphie motioned to his right. “That guy over there has all the baskets at his table. If that isn’t a case of through-and-through gluttony, then I’m Shirley Temple.”

To their right sat a behemoth of a man who had to have weighed north of 400 pounds. He had eaten every basket of bar peanuts and then proceeded to order takeout from the Italian joint down the street. When people order food to be delivered to a bar, you know they’re either too drunk to drive or nobody cares about them. That juggernaut was the perfect fit for a date with the devil. Bobby Lee, Ralphie, and the Baron, all thought to themselves: “He should set up a tab at the Alibi.”

Back at the Alibi, Dominick and Kitty carried on with their daily tasks in silence. Each seemed to wear an inward grin, probably due to the unusually low, almost soothing hum of voices, an event rarely witnessed within those musky, stained walls. Only a few regulars sat in the bar, and Dominick decided to turn the music off. As he prepped the lemons and limes, his face revealed confused elation. There were few such quiet moment in his life and so he began to reminisce. First he remembered was that time when, as a child, he sat crouched, knees to chin, in the corner of his bedroom, protecting his ears. This memory of the angry, piercing voices of his parents transformed his smile into a grimace. He stood motionless, a knife in one hand and a lemon in the other. He fast-forwarded a few years to another bittersweet memory, that of his father leaving him and his mother. Dominick was only 14 when he was finally released from the torturous bond with his father. He’d never truly grappled with the complex cocktail of mixed emotions he’d felt. Happiness blended with despair, hatred shaken with the anxiety of what would come, and new-found freedom stirred with feelings of vengeance. At that moment, these feelings churned into a gigantic knot in the pit of his stomach.

Dominick was now noticeably agitated and although his mutterings and moans were kept under his breath, everyone in the bar could tell something was wrong. Kitty was growing concerned but remained reserved at the same time, for she’d never seen Dominick in this light. Would he snap at any disturbance and act out, or was he simmering inside and in need of comfort? Kitty thought about it for a minute and then, with a sigh of resignation, returned to cleaning tables, still wondering what could possibly be bothering Dominick so much.

By this time, Dominick’s thoughts had moved on to his first kill, which in his mind will forever be his most defining one. Those after paled in comparison in both amount of preparation and degree of intricacy. He saw her standing before him, draped in a linen sheet, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She, who gave him some of the best years of his life. Mary was 19, a college student when she first met him. As she grew to know him though, she became increasingly skeptical and confused about their future. Dominick wanted to get married and run away to place they could be together and alone. Mary kept saying she felt like she was escaping something that didn’t exist in the first place. She was unaware of Dominick’s troubled past which led to their first big fight. Dominick had absolutely snapped during this fight, but had not used any physical force. Instead, he locked himself in his den, reliving the horrific events that plagued his past. A week later, he opened the door and stepped out a changed man. His brow had grown deeply furrowed by the intense contemplation of the past week, yet on his lips he wore an insane grin. The last thing Mary would ever see was the last sentence of a chapter of the book she was reading: “Evil is everywhere, just remember to look over your shoulder.” By the time her eyes had reached the period on the page, Dominick had crept up behind her, wearing rubber gloves and a handkerchief over his mouth. He gagged her, then twisted her delicate neck with all the force he used to suppress his traumatic past. In that instant, Dominick’s eyes opened as he he gasped for air, startling the regulars and Kitty who had by now moved closer.

“Is everything alright, Dominick?”

While Bobby Lee, Ralphie, and the Baron were on the subject of gluttony, they began to fantasize about their favorite foods. Ralphie was the most finicky, insisting on brown and beige food only. Baron liked anything ethnic and exotic- the more elaborate, the better. Bobby Lee scoffed and insisted on American fast-food classics like triple cheeseburgers and fries.

The conversation took a quick detour as they turned their attention back to the bar. The Baron thought this perfect tab candidate looked a lot like the fat guy from the movie Seven. Rather than discussing their admiration for the film itself, they focused instead on the creativity of the kills it depicted. While they were on the subject of Brad Pitt, their conversation drifted to how they each felt about the film Benjamin Button. They all agreed it wasn’t his best work, and how they’d had high hopes and had agreed on its potential when they’d first heard about it.

By now they were all hungry so they turned their attention to the food situation. Bobby Lee started searching Grub Hub on his smart phone for delivery options. After the three of them squabbled about who was tipping and who was paying, they settled on cheeseburgers.

Sated and weary of the vacuous chatter, Ralphie pulled on his coat, threw his share on the table, and aimed for the door, late for his shift, Baron in tow.

Rose swung the door open, allowing a rush of frigid wind into the bar. She was two minutes late and the air around her cracked with fresh, impatient energy. She hated being late for anything. Ed, the health inspector, was deeply engrossed in conversation with a man she’d never seen there before, and didn’t even notice her, which Rose found surprising. Dominick was behind the bar, lost in thought, so lost that Kitty actually looked concerned, and had slowed down to more carefully observe him. Suddenly, he whipped his head around and focused on her with a gaze that sent shivers through her being. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what lay behind that dark look he gave her but it shook her to her core.

“Sorry I’m late,” Rose began as she stashed her coat and bag and tied her apron string around her slender waist. Dom’s eyes traveled down, following the motion of her fingers, his previous reverie channeled into dark and violent thoughts aimed right at Rose. None of this was lost on Kitty, who immediately began playing interference.

“Dominick- where’s that shot of Jameson I ordered, like, five minutes ago? HELLO, anybody home??” She shot an uneasy glance at Rose. “About time you showed up- the back room needs your attention, like yesterday - a big party just cleared out. Here.” She tossed a bar towel at Rose. “And you’re gonna need a tray.”

As she disappeared into the back room, Kitty whirled around and grabbed Dom’s shirt sleeve in her fist. “Do I even need to remind you to BEHAVE?” She could see as she drifted toward the back room, however, that he remained lost in the spell of his own nightmares, memories, and desires.

As Ralphie walked through the door Kitty felt a wave of relief. Ralphie’s inane banter was just engaging enough to distract that predator from doing anything stupid, she thought. They turned their attention to eavesdropping on the two customers - Ed and that crazy white hippy throwback - deeply engaged in conversation.

“Kitty, baby!” exclaimed Baron as he walked through the door behind Ralphie. The couple slipped immediately into their twisted little universe of clinging co-dependence, leaving the bar far behind.

The door flew open again. “Delivery!” A hand truck loaded down with cases of beer spun expertly on its axis and came to an abrupt halt. “Sign here, Ralphie?”

“Oh, yeah.” He absentmindedly scribbled his signature on the receipt.

He made his way around the bar to the back room where the giant walk in freezer was. “Wow, biggest walk in I’ve ever seen.” He said to himself. He opened the door to the giant frozen beast and flicked on the light inside. As he pulled the hand truck in he realized that they were only using about half the space of the freezer and decided he would try and utilize some more area in there. Maybe then when they saw they had so much more space they would order more from his company, maybe the bosses would notice and he could get that raise.

“Yes, that would be nice.” He said out loud he was so pleased with the idea. As he started moving boxes around he noticed a strange glow coming from the back left corner of the freezer. It was bright swirling color of lights that seemed to get brighter with each step he took to get closer to it. A swirl of mostly reds, oranges, and purples. He felt, power, coming from it as he continued to move boxes to get closer to it. By the time he looked up from moving all of the boxes out of the way he noticed the light was coming from behind an old wooden door.

“What the hell is this?” he inquired to himself. He reached out, almost in a trance like state, and opened the door. A bright light blinded him as he opened the door. When he opened his eyes again he realized he wasn’t in the bar anymore. But where was he? He looked around in what looked like the DMV. It was long white hallway with a bunch of rooms lining it. “What the… I… Ugh… where the hell am I, What is this place?” All kinds of thoughts swirled through his head. What could this place be and how could he get out. He had a strong sense that he should not, and did not want to be there. He turned around to go back through the door whence he came but it was… gone!

Rose walked down the street toward the sign swinging on its rusty hinges in the wind. Missing a light bulb, it blinked rhythmically in the dusky backdrop of the evening sky.  Alibi. Unsure of herself, she descended two stairs leading to the doorway and pushed the brass plate.  She glanced around, eyes becoming adjusted to the dark interior.  She felt a slight chill and tightened her scarf around her slim alabaster neck.  Only four people sat at the bar, the bartender brought the total to five.  The patrons that huddled around the bar turned and stared with bleary longing as she made her way toward the bar.

“I’m here to see Dominick.” 

Dominick looked up. “That’s me- how can I help you?”

Rose held back a smile, taken aback by his stunning baby-blue eyes set upon a tan, chiseled face.  His brown hair was slightly messy, but looked as though every hair was in its place.

She extended her hand. “I’m Rose. I’m here for the interview.” 

She focused on keeping her outstretched hand steady, not wanting Dominick to see how nervous she was, nor the effect he had on her. 

Dominick shook her hand and gave her a good once over, his dark eyes warming like melted chocolate as he looked down one side of her body, then deepening to almost black as he gazed up the other side, hesitating slightly when they reached just below her neck.

From most men, this would have been offensive, and Rose could feel herself wanting to look away, avoid his gaze, avoid the subtle but firm touch he retained on her hand, but she could not move.  She had to stand still, unflinching, as he mapped every inch of her and returned his inky gaze to hers.

“Welcome, Rose.”  He let go of her hand.  “Why don’t you have a seat at that table there, by the stained glass window.”  He lowered his voice, a conspiracy in his whisper.  “It’s the least drafty spot in the place.”

Rose nodded, feeling her face blush warmly, and she looked at the floor.

“I’ll bring some drinks.”  He’d stepped back behind the bar, his tone brisk and businesslike.  “What’s your poison?”

“Oh— I guess I’ll have a glass of Merlot,” she replied, then suddenly realized she had just accepted a drink during a job interview.

“Two Merlots comin’ up,” Dominick quickly responded.  

Little did either of them know her interview was about to become more of a tryout.

After a number of wrong turns, a bus carrying precious cargo chugged to a slow, axle-grinding stop. Silence. The doors folded back cautiously and fifteen State Beauty Pageant contestants spilled onto the sidewalk, teetering in their five inch heels and miniskirts. 

“What is this place!” one of them asked, nose wrinkled in mild disgust.

“I don’t care, we need to get directions back to the highway.” another replied.  

“It’s a bar. But who would come to this dive?”

Dominick returned to the table where Rose waited with two glasses of wine. Just as Dominick sat down, keeping a peripheral view of Rose’s finer features, the beauty contestants filed down the stairs and through the door in a steady stream. He immediately shifted his lustful gaze toward the tall, teetering beauties now standing in the entry of his bar.

“Well! Hello ladies,” Dominick rose from the table and approached the bevy with his usual swagger. ”Say, you wouldn’t happen to be lost?”

The women parted like the Blonde Sea, allowing a particularly stunning beauty queen through.  With her hair blowing from a nearby vent she stopped in front of Dominick, striking a pose she’d hit a million times before.  “Umm, are you open?”

Before Dominick could respond, a round faced man in a long-sleeved button-down and cargo shorts came bursting through the kitchen door.  “Dom, you’re not going to believe the busload of babes that just…” He froze.

Dominick turned to him with a raised eyebrow.  “Bobby Lee, why don’t you get behind the bar and make these lovely ladies some drinks.”

“Sure, yeah, but I’m going to need a hand,” said Bobby Lee as he slid behind the bar and pulled out some glasses from underneath.

“Where’s Ralphie?  I thought he was back there with you.”

“No, I was just cleaning up the basement. He never showed this morning.”

Dominick walked over to Rose, who was smiling at the Bebe ad that had formed by the door.  She returned his gaze.  “Given that you’re here, I’d say you’re more qualified than some of our other employees.  I guess my only interview question for you would be, can you start now?”

It was then the only basic instinct they knew kicked in, as if someone had lit a fire where their charred morals still resided. It was a feeling only Patty Smith could articulate, as if “Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe” described their urge to kill. Soon after, as if by some kind of cosmic significance, the opening bars of “Because The Night” began playing on the jukebox. The room seemed to move in slow motion as the bevy of beautiful women began to strike poses at the bar.  

The boys stood frozen, trying to control their moral compass. The universe had just delivered a bus full of temptation.

Dominick tried taking his mind off the situation by conversing with Rose in a concerted casual-cool-calm-collected manner

“I fuckin’ love this song…turn it up Bobby Lee!” he ordered.

The chorus of “Because The Night” blasted throughout the bar.

Rose smiled at Dominick’s surprisingly good taste in music and at the idea of working with him. 

Everything continued to unfold in slow motion as the boys reached deep down for their inner willpower, trying not to think about killing again.

Bobby Lee Logan reached for the tap to pull a Stella when one of the blonde interlopers slid up to the bar.

“You remind me of my uncle Joey,”  She purred, resting her hip on the stool, which seemed so happy to be able to prop her up.

Bobby Lee nodded, chuckling, putting on what he though of as his “Good Guy” face.  “I sure hope you think kindly of your Uncle Joey,”  He lifted his chin to the perfect degree, calculated to give just enough of a look at his face, but not enough for her to look deeply into his eyes.  Tilting his head down again, just the right time, just the right speed, he added, “I wouldn’t want to remind you of a bad seed in your family garden.”

A shadow crossed the blonde’s face, perhaps from someone passing between her and the light hanging over the pool table, perhaps from another contestant gliding towards the washroom, but most likely from a memory long hidden and lingering just below her skin.  “Oh, my uncle Joey was always the fun one at parties.”  She said, her voice less purr, more little girl lost.  “We had a lot of parties when I was growing up.  My family loved to get together, holidays, birthdays, just because days…” 

The blonde slid further onto the stool, sitting now, her ankles crossed like a little girl at Sunday School.  She rested her elbows on the bar and watched Bobby Lee pull another Stella draft then tray the mugs of ale for Kitty to distribute.  The blonde watched Bobby Lee give Kitty a nod, a silent communication between co-workers, or something more, and felt a little jealous as the attention shifted away from her, especially now that she was in a sharing mood. 

The blonde was about to say something, anything, just to make a noise so she didn’t disappear completely, when Bobby Lee turned his round, ruddy face to look right at her.

“I bet you miss those parties, hunh?”  He grinned, toothy and warm.

“I really do,”  The blonde said, beaming, lifting her head a little more as she told him all about when she was young.

Beauties served, Bobby Lee leaned in, stretching across the bar, focused solely on the blonde opposite him. Rose twirled through the crowd effortlessly, simultaneously sweeping empty glasses and wiping spills, leaving order in her wake. Her considerable skills were not lost on Dominick who, though engrossed in heavy flirtation with the queen of the beauties with one eye, kept the other focused on Rose. Bobby Lee otherwise occupied, she stepped behind the bar to pour another tray of Stellas herself. As she poured, she glanced around the room, sizing up the action and mapping her next pass.

Suddenly she noticed a tall, sandy haired male, good looking in an utterly forgettable way, who had appeared out of nowhere and was now engrossed in flirtatious banter with the beta queen in the group. She chided herself for missing his entrance and approached him, tossing a coaster on the bar. “Yes?”

“I’ll have an Amstel Light” he replied without looking at her. “Wait- who are YOU?”

“Rose.” She held out her hand. “I’m auditioning.”

Still staring at the beauty, he ignored her outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you Rose,” he replied absently.

Still pouring Stellas, she reached down with her other hand into the beer cooler, located the bottle, uncapped it, and set it down before him.

“Five.”

“No, Rose, I’m one of the managers here- I don’t pay for drinks.” he responded with a slight patronizing edge in his tone.

She nudged Bobby Lee. “Who’s that? He says he’s a manager here.”

Bobby Lee interrupted his reverie long enough to answer. “That’s Baron- yeah, he’s one of the managers.” She noted an edge in his tone and swept back through the packed room, tray held high, Baron’s eyes narrowing, glinting, following her back intently.

Suddenly, a slim figure sauntered through the entrance. Though he had dirty deeds under his belt, his shifty exterior transmitted a strange gentility that endeared him to most, while shocking those who knew him best. Or should one say worst? This was the fourth in the band of employers at the Alibi Club.

Baron looked up from the light beer and gave his friend a wave and a shout. “Ralphie! What’s new in your life?”

“The teenage boy in my trunk.” Ralphie replied.

As his friends laughed and the now drunken beauty contestants tittered awkwardly, Ralphie quickly side-stepped further queries and headed for his favorite chair next to the jukebox. He pulled out three crisp singles and proceeded to select three plays of “The Crypt Raiser”, as the patrons and staff had begun to call his set. Each song was decidedly older: “My Kind of Town” by Frank Sinatra, “Midnight Special” by CCR, and “We Are Family” by Sisters Sledge. His love for seventies disco-style music threw people at first but slowly fostered that heartfelt, naive persona he wanted to project. Dominick glanced over his shoulder, shooting Ralphie the dirtiest of looks.

“What the…? Ralphie, come on, man. We’ve been forced to listen to this Sinatra crap for far too long.”

“He’s an American hero, Dominick,” retorted Ralphie. “And that song means something in this city.”

Kitty sidled up to Ralphie to take his drink order. As she stared down at the notepad and beyond it her friend’s mug, she noticed something peculiar.

“Hey, Ralphie, what’s that on your face?”

“Oh- what do you mean?” Ralphie replied, butting the heels of his sneakers together.

“That, the red stuff beneath your eyes,” Kitty pointed out. “Is it…are you…is that blood?”

Ralphie slouched uncomfortably in his chair.

“No, of course not. Why- why would there be blood on my face?”

Kitty glared down at Ralphie with a mixture of concern and sarcasm. That’s a hard combination to swing, but if anyone could pull it off, it was Kitty. She pressed him further.

“Look, if you…caved, I get it, I understand. Believe me. But don’t lie to me like I’m stupid.”

“But it’s not blood! I swear!” Ralphie stammered.

“Oh yeah? Then what is it?”

Ralphie muttered something under his breath, curling his body as if he were a mouse jealously protecting a rare, coveted piece of cheese.  

“He he ha,” Ralphie wheezed.  “Okay…it is blood!” he shouted letting out a grotesque, hyena-like cackle.  Kitty, releasing her firm grip from the pen and pad, immediately looked away, both embarrassed and disgusted.

“If you haven’t noticed, Ralphina, we’re packed tonight,” Kitty pressed, “Now, what’ll it be?” Ralphie continued to settle himself in as he concentrated on his daily dose of Sister Sledge.

“I love this song,” he sighed.

“Okay, never mind then,” Kitty snapped back.  

“Alright, I’ll have a beer. I just wanted you to talk to me,” Ralphie pleaded. “I’ve got this weird feeling right now.”

“You don’t say,” Kitty cracked, “Couldn’t possibly be on account’ a all of the silky smooth skin walkin’ around?”

Just then, Ralphie’s eyes glazed over as he caught sight of an unusual beauty from across the bar who seemed to be moving several steps faster than anyone else. He couldn’t quite make sense of the sweet, soothing sensation that washed over him that then instantly collided with violent desires. His eyes followed her back like a predator as she moved, tray in hand, toward the rear of the space. He felt slightly dizzy as a wash of violent, bloody, disjointed images flooded his consciousness like a pile of crime scene snapshots, the twisted fantasies blotting out any remaining sunny rays of here and now. The thoughts came thick and fast now, so fast Ralphie could no longer trace the threads back to their source, and they hopelessly tangled with the burning sensation in his gut.

“Better make that a scotch, Kitty,” he choked. “The urges are getting stronger.”

Rose approached the bar with an empty tray.  Bobby, who had been leaning against the wall, came to her.  “What do you need?”

“A new pair of shoes,” said Rose as she shuffled her feet.  “My interview heels aren’t cutting it right now.”

Bobby released the scowl from his face that had formed over the past hour.  As he smiled, his bulbous cheeks took on a rosy hue.  “Just take them off.”

“That’s gotta be some sort of health code violation,” said Rose as she boosted herself onto a stool.

Bobby leaned in closer, trying to lock Rose’s gaze.  “We’re not too worried about the health inspector down here.”

Rose examined the floor, trying to determine its original color.  “Even so, I think I’ll keep them on.”

As Bobby shrugged, Kitty pulled up beside Rose.  “I need a Dewars, neat.  Have either of you seen Baron?” 

Bobby moved toward the cascade of bottles behind him.  “I think he’s in the corner talking to one of our-” Bobby turned his head to look at Kitty, “customers.” 

Kitty’s forehead furrowed.  “Make that two Dewars.”  She turned to Rose, looking her up and down.  “So you’re Rose.  I’m Kitty by the way.  Baron is my husband, so he’s off-limits to you.”

Rose looked down as she rolled her eyes.  “Nice to meet you.”  As she looked back up, a deep laugh echoed through the bar, giving Rose the chills.  It reminded her of something, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.  She spun on her stool toward its source.  “Who’s that?”

Bobby returned with Kitty’s drinks.  Kitty grabbed one of the glasses and downed it in one gulp.  “That, honey, is Ralphie.”

An argument broke out between two blondes standing in a cluster at the back of the room. There was a lot of name-calling above the din: bitch this, and slut that, yet it hadn’t quite resulted in  hair pulling before “Queen Bridgette” stood to speak.

“You two sluts are acting like animals. Like you can’t control yourselves.” Bridgette then turned her attention to the whole bar, “You’re all acting like animals. You disgust me. Drinking beer? Fighting? You all are just- just gross! I can hardly stand to look at you all today. Ugh. I am flat-out disgusted with you guys. Flat. Out. Disgusted. Order yourselves martinis and act like ladies for Christ’s sake.”

Dominick stepped in to stop her. “Honey, watch your language. We don’t talk like that in here,” he stated bluntly.

“Oh, I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me.” Bridgette glanced around the room, her face reddening, suddenly embarrassed. She then trained her eyes back onto Dominick’s lean, muscular body. She had noticed that her prospects with him were dwindling, so she wanted to make the most of this opportunity. “I do tend to have a dirty mouth,” she said with intently, staring shallowly into his eyes.

“Is that so?” Dominick said smiling.

“You know, I’m naughty.”

Dominick let out a chuckle, “Hah! If that’s true, watch out for Ralphie. He likes the naughty ones!”

Dominick swept up the row of empty martini glasses stacked in front of the Queen and weaved his way to the bar, swerving expertly around the groups of drunken blondes. “Fat chance, princess!” he thought to himself. He eyed with envy the insecure, longing gaze of the blonde confessing to Bobby Lee. “That’s more like it” he thought as his eyes searched for that black star, seeking someone to undo her.

“Wow. I don’t know about you Bobby, but I’m going crazy here,” Dominick shouted, attempting to overcome the booming mixture of beauty and booze. By that time, the only person who wasn’t drunk was Rose, who was focused on keeping drink orders in her head.

“Guys, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle this every night,” Rose lamented as she fixed her hair tie. She leaned against the bar and started to massage her calves and lower back. Dominick became instantly bewitched, tantalized by every stroke, every drop of hard earned sweat that graced her furrowed brow. Just then Rose looked up to find Dominick staring straight into her eyes. She quickly looked away.

“Bobby, can I get three Buds, two shots of Jameson and a… a cosmopolitan?” Rose said while keeping her gaze away from Dominick. Bobby Lee grumbled at the last order.

“Well, I think I better get back to our guests. Rose, keep up the good work,” Dominick said, barely containing the fire that burned within the deepest parts of his lost matter. He rocked himself against the bar then pushed off back into the crowd. Rose gathered her drinks and sighed as she gazed beyond the sea of bodies. When she saw her opportunity she disappeared into the pulsing mob. Just then Kitty stomped up to the bar and slammed her tray.

“I swear to fucking…” She began to exclaim before Baron interrupted.

“Kitty, what the hell’s the matter. I wasn’t doing anything. She was only showing me her tattoo, which because of pageant by-laws can only be in a couple of places,” Baron protested, attempting to calm Kitty’s exaggerated suspicions. “I love you, Kitty.”

Bobby Lee felt sweat prickling his armpits like needles. He grabbed a napkin and wiped his face, which flushed and was growing redder. He felt lightheaded and sick of Dominick’s rant. He felt like he might faint. He could no longer hear what the blond across from him was babbling- the ringing in his ears was too loud now. The tears running down her face were both temptation and torment- he was both drawn to and repulsed by them.

“Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop” he mumbled to himself, his hands clammy and shaking. He knew how to stop it. His hands moved, without his permission nor direction, toward the only way he knew to make the painful disorientation go away.

Now Bobby Lee could hear every distinct conversation, every dip and spike in pitch throughout the entire bar. This only disrupted his concentration on trying to alleviate the torment sitting beyond the mahogany fortress, spilling over her fifth martini. Bobby crouched just below eye level, placed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. He remained in this position for ten seconds trying to remember what it felt like to satisfy his deepest desires. For him, this was the calm before the storm, the inspirational speech, and the only way he was able to work without mistake. When he removed his hands from his ears, leaving on them a slight impression from his determined grip, the bar had grown silent and everyone seemed to be moving at just a fraction of their usual pace. Suddenly, something broke his trance and Bobby found himself reaching out, claws opened and headed for the intruder’s neck.

“Hey, Bobby Lee, what’s the big idea?!”

The intoxicated bartender opened his eyes, and realized his fingers had wrapped themselves around the neck of an unsuspecting Ralphie. Bobby Lee quickly regained control of his hungry hands, which retreated behind the counter.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Ralphie! I don’t know what came over me,” he replied.

“The urges, I’d figure” said Ralphie.

Bobby Lee’s mouth gaped, unaccustomed to such opennes. “You get it too?”

“Oh, all the time. You see this?” Raphie said, pointing to a red spot under his nose.

“Yeah…”

“Blood.”

Bobby Lee’s mouth dropped open wide. “No! You didn’t give in, did you? Don’t you know what that would mean?!”

“Relax,” Ralphie responded. He leaned in confidingly, as if sharing a secret between gentlemen. “I’ve been beating stray cats in the alley. Cut the head off one and stuck it on a spike as a warning to the others that they aren’t wanted here.”

Bobby Lee looked quizzically at his grinning friend. “So, that’s cat blood?”

“Hell yes!” Raphie retorted. “This is just the stuff that gets on me from smashing and stabbing cats. It sure keeps me from giving in to those there urges.”

Bobby Lee tilted his head back as the revelation sank in. He wondered if there was something like that out there for him.

“You see, Bobby Lee,” Ralphie cackled, “not everything is as it seems.”

Rose had finished delivering the drinks to everyone in the bar and felt like she could use a quick five minute break. She saw Ralphie and Bobby talking off to the side of the bar against the wall and decided to head over and find out a little more about them.

“Hey,” Rose said as she walked up to them, ” what’s going on?”

Ralphie spoke up with out looking at her and replied “Just talking about a few problems we need to resolve, nothing you would understand about.”

“Try me.” Rose said in a helpful comforting voice, “I’m good at solving problems, or at least listening to people.”

At the sound of her voice Ralphie started to look at her and felt a way he hadn’t felt before but still seemed familiar to him.

“Trust me you wouldn’t get it, It’s male stuff.” Bobby said leaning over Ralphie’s shoulder.

Rose Barely noticed Bobby and was still looking at Ralphie for what seemed like for ever but in fact had only been a few seconds. Just then…

“I SWEAR IF SHE DOESN’T STOP…” Kitty exclaimed to the three of themwith a fire of a true woman scourned in her eyes. “I swear Devil or no Devil I’m gonna kill that bitch if she doesn’t stop flirting with my man!”