Behind the Mirror
A View by Gregg Hennigan
A Slanted Glance by Tony Baranowski III
It Began As Flirting by Vanessa Wright
Richard Laden did not know what was going on. He looked at his watch. It read 10:30. Typically there were fifty to seventy people at Minerva on a Thursday night. Tonight there were about twelve. Not only was Richard confused, he was mad. No patrons, no tips. Most nights he made one hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty dollars. That's why he worked here. After all, he did have a college degree. But he went where the money was. And the money was at Minerva serving single-malt scotches to the businessmen and martinis to the naughty housewives.
Actually,
it wasn’t just the money. Richard
genuinely liked his job (except that he worked most weekend nights). In particular, he liked eavesdropping. He’d read that Hemingway had a unique ability to guess the
occupations of people at parties. Though
it probably was not as diverse here, Richard felt he had the same skill.
Take the blonde at the bar—all dressed up:
hair neatly done up, fancy black dress, and nails fresh from a manicure.
Oh, and don’t think he didn’t notice that ring.
That’s the first thing he looks for.
You flirt with the married ones if you want a bigger tip.
Anyway, this lady. Richard
figured she either just got in a fight with her husband while at an expensive
restaurant, or was having an affair. No
one gets that dressed up for themselves. He
guessed the fight. She sat there
with her hand on her cheek, eyes looking down as she stirred her Shirley Temple
with the cocktail sword he had given her (she seemed like the type).
“Can I just get a Rolling
Rock?” someone asked from his left. Richard
turned and saw a man holding a five in his hand.
“No problem,” he answered and
went to the fridge, again checking his hair in the wall-length mirror behind the
bar. He pulled out a green bottle
and a chilled glass and gave them to the man in exchange for the money.
This guy, though not a regular, was the quintessential Minerva patron:
early-thirties, shirt and tie, and carefully styled hair:
the look of money.
Uh oh, Richard thought.
He caught the man casting an angled glance into the mirror towards the
blonde. Richard wondered if he was
the guy. Maybe they get off playing
some game. In that case, he thought
it could be the husband. He looked
down: no band. Still, that could be
part of it. Just then the blonde
gave Richard a nod and stuck out her hand.
He walked over.
“I’ll have a screwdriver,”
she requested.
Woo, watch out, he thought.
Well, she definitely had a fight. I’ll
make this one a bit stronger, he thought, as he added an extra shot of vodka.
He was in a better mood now; he had some entertainment.
Richard gave the lady her drink
and smirked with delight as she grimaced after the first sip.
He then watched the play develop while pretending to be busy cleaning
glasses and pitchers. Occasionally, the lone waitress came up with a few orders.
The couple used the mirror to
flirt. Perhaps it made it feel more
innocent to them. His bet was that
the guy would chicken out. Richard
did not know exactly why, but the man looked like the type who enjoys the game,
but can’t handle it going any further. Maybe
it was because every time the woman made an effort to lock eyes with him, he
looked away sheepishly. This woman,
on the other hand, Richard was having a hard time reading her.
She was already nearly done with her drink but he could not tell if she
was drunk. The dimness of Minerva
made it too hard to see her eyes. Then,
much to Richard’s disappointment, the woman stood up.
He figured she must have had enough of the game.
What Richard saw next amazed even him. As the woman arose she grabbed her glass. Her hand seemed less magnificent than before. It took a second for Richard to realize why. She had taken off the sparkling diamond ring. Richard watched in frozen awe as the ringless lady walked over to the other side of the bar and spoke to the man drinking Rolling Rock.
“Can I just get a Rolling Rock,” Jamie requested as he hopped up and perched on a stool in the swanky downtown bar.
“No problem,” the waiter replied as he walked back to the refrigerator and pulled out a green bottle and an iced glass.
“Thanks,” Jamie said when the kid set the bottle and glass down in front of him.
Kid? How can I think of this guy as a kid? There’s probably no more than a couple years between us, but now I classify everyone even close to my age as a kid. 30 years old three months from now. I am getting old.
Pouring the beer very slowly into the tilted glass, Jamie glanced around the bar. He had come here before, but wasn’t a regular by any means. He usually returned to his one bedroom apartment after his slate of biology classes was over and graded papers over some kind of delivery food. Tonight he had the same intention, but his need for some kind of human interaction altered his plan.
So now he sat alone in this bar that was far too high priced for any student. Though desperately wanting someone to talk to, he avoided eye contact with any of the other patrons. Instead, as he tipped back his glass he would peer over the top and observe them.
He saw men dressed similar to himself, suit and tie, with the latter loose and dangling around their necks, drinking together in excess at a table to his left. He saw an older couple (about 60 he guessed), whispering softly to each other in the back of the bar.
As he finished his scan of the patrons through the bottom of his empty glass, he realized that there was an attractive woman sitting at the other end of the bar. Not wanting to be caught ogling her he shifted his view to the mirror behind the bar to get a better look.
Trying to be nonchalant in his observation, he could see that she was gorgeous; not the kind of woman you might expect to find sitting alone at a bar at this hour. She called to the bartender and requested another drink and Jamie watched the young man swiftly mix a screwdriver and set it in front of her.
Her eyes cast downward, she seemed thoughtful and preoccupied which gave Jamie a chance to more carefully take in her reflection. She wore a black dress that showed her figure from what he could gather from his limited vantage point. Her blonde hair was nice, but it was bound up and he wished he could see its full length and shine.
Lost in his own interpretations of her appearance, it took him a moment to realize that she had noticed his glance in the mirror and already looked away.
Oh, well done, Jamie, he thought as his eyes quickly returned to the dark wooden bar and his own glass. Now she thinks I’m stalking her or something. I might as well get out of here and save myself the embarrassment.
Just as he placed his feet on the floor and readied himself for a quick exit, he looked up and saw the woman coming toward him.
Now what do I do? She’s probably coming over here to toss her drink at me but I can’t leave, if she’s headed for the door she would surely be worried when she sees me go for it too.
“Mind if I sit down?” she asked in a confident tone.
He shook his head and offered her a seat, noticing through his shock that her glass was once again empty. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Almost before she replied he called the waiter and asked for another screwdriver and a beer for himself.
He was once again caught in the midst of fear as he became suddenly conscious of the fact that he hadn’t asked what she was drinking.
Now she knows you were ogling her!
Nevertheless she thanked him and asked his name.
“Fredricks. Jamie Fredricks, but please just call me Jamie. Only my students call me Mr. Fredricks. Tonight I just want to relax and forget I’m a professor.”
His mind reeled with sarcasm at his own words. Hi, I’m a professor, I am so damn smart. Nice intro Jamie.
“Pleased to meet you Jamie, I’m Amanda Green,” she said holding out her hand.
He reached to accept it and in the process spilled the beer the waiter had just delivered.
Now thoroughly flustered with his own idiocy, he felt his face glowing but he resigned himself to the one positive conclusion that he could come up with: At least it can only get better from here.
As he regained his composure Amanda, now reaching with him to help sop up the spilled beer, brushed his hand and caught his eye. It was brief, but Jamie once again became the ladies man he fancied himself to be not long ago and he held her attention as blue met blue in the short distance between their eyes. He was now infatuated with her as she passed off his ineptness without pause.
He sat and chatted with her for the remainder of the evening and into the morning. He thought only briefly of the work he should be doing and the lectures he had to prepare for the next day, but he was so enjoying the banter and her company that he dismissed his duties and focused on this stunning woman.
As the hours drifted past they became abruptly aware that with the exception of the bartender, they were the only people left in the large, silent bar.
Amanda pointed out that they would have to leave soon and Jamie, with a sudden rush of panic that he would not see her again, asked if they could go somewhere else to continue enjoying each other’s company.
Amanda stirred her Shirley Temple with a straw. Glancing around the room she saw a couple close to retirement age sitting at a booth in the back, and a small group of men in ties at a near table harassing the waitress. After a drink she took the cherry off the cocktail sword and popped it into her mouth.
Minerva’s was an upscale bar that Amanda and a few of her co-workers went to every once in awhile for drinks after work. Tonight was different though. It was supposed to be special. She and Mike had made plans for dinner. They hadn’t gone out in months and he wanted to make up for it. She had gone home after work that day expecting to see a dozen roses waiting for her and instead there was a message from Mike on the answering machine saying he wouldn’t be able to make it tonight because he had been called away on business and wouldn’t be back until Monday. “I’m sorry Honey,” he had said, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Rather than letting her disappointment get the best of her and succumb to another night at home alone, Amanda got dressed up and went out anyway. She sat there at the bar in her new black dress she had bought and her blonde hair up in a sleek French twist. Yet, ironically, even in a bar she was still alone.
It wasn’t like this when we first got married, she thought looking at the small princess cut diamond ring she wore on her finger. She remembered how Mike had saved to buy the ring. His senior year of college he had taken a full load of classes while working full time. Finally, at the end of the year, he had saved enough to buy it. Still, for as busy as he had been that whole year, Amanda never felt as neglected by him as she did now.
She sighed and went to take another sip of her drink only to find she had reached the bottom. She signaled the bartender for another. What the Hell, she thought, I could use something stronger. “I’ll have a screwdriver,” she told him. Quickly he returned and sat the drink on a napkin in front of her. She smiled and thanked him politely. Taking a sip, she made a face. The drink was strong, but she liked it.
Amanda checked her reflection in the mirror behind the liquor bottles at the bar. She looked great tonight, and Mike wasn’t even here to appreciate it. As she stared into the mirror she locked eyes with a handsome man sitting at the other end of the bar. It had caught her by surprise and, feeling her cheeks flush, Amanda looked away.
She picked up her screwdriver and took a long drink. Sitting on the barstool she thought about the man with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes. The image was making her heart pound. She was flattered by the stranger’s attention. Why shouldn’t she be? It had been so long since anyone of the opposite sex had paid any attention to her.
I should go introduce myself, Amanda thought boldly. She discreetly slipped off her wedding ring and dropped it into her purse. She picked up her drink and casually walked over to the man. “Mind if I sit down?” she asked him seductively. Shaking his head no he gestured her toward the barstool next to him and replied, “Have a seat.” “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked. Amanda looked down to see her glass was again empty. “Yes, thank you.”
“Hey,” said the man to the bartender, “Can we get a screwdriver and another Rolling Rock?” The bartender brought them their drinks and Amanda again thanked him. She turned toward the man and flashed him a flirtatious smile, “Thank you Mr…”
“Fredricks. Jamie Fredricks, but please just call me Jamie. Only my students call me Mr. Fredricks. Tonight I just want to relax and forget I’m a professor.”
A professor, Amanda thought, so he’s smart and gorgeous. “ Pleased to meet you Jamie,” she replied, “I’m Amanda Green.” She stuck out her hand to shake his and as he reached for hers he bumped his Rolling Rock, spilling it onto the bar. Amanda watched Jamie’s cheeks turn red with embarrassment. His clumsiness was forgotten; however, as Amanda reached for some napkins to help soak up the spilled drink and accidentally brushed hands with him. They locked eyes and her heart began to pound again. Being near this man, touching his hand, and smelling his cologne made Amanda flush with excitement. They knew nothing about each other, but Amanda could feel the attraction between them.
The bartender came over with a bar rag and finished soaking up the mess. Jamie made a joke about his clumsiness which helped them both relax. They sat close together at the bar engaged in intimate conversation about work, hobbies, and passions, unaware of how quickly time was passing until Amanda saw the bartender washing glasses and cleaning up. She scanned the room. She and Jamie were the only two in the bar. Looking at her watch, Amanda saw it was 1:30 in the morning; the bar would be closing in a half an hour.
“They’ll probably kick us out soon,” Amanda said pointing toward the clock on the wall.
“I can’t believe it’s so late,” Jamie replied, “I’m still wide awake.”
“Me, too.”
“Listen,” he told her as they got up and walked toward the door, “I was really enjoying our conversation, do you want to go somewhere else and talk?”
A thousand thoughts filled Amanda’s head.
Did he really want to go somewhere and just talk or did he mean something
else? And if that something else
meant that he wanted her to go home with him, did she want to? Could she go through with it?
What about Mike and her marriage? “What
did you have in mind?” she asked, her heart beating wildly as she anticipated
his answer.