Accounts of Sam, October 2017.
"You look really pissed," Ashlen remarks as her eyebrows raise, "Sam… You're growling."
Well shit, I am growling. I stop glaring into the guy's startled baby blues and unfurl my lip. The boy's liquor induced flush pales as he backs off with his hands out. Am I that scary looking?
The kid had enough alcohol to try making a move on Ashlen, but not enough of a boost to handle my warning look, as unintentional as it was.
"Hey, um," she spots the blonde haired kid then looks back to me, "Are you mad at that guy?"
Her fingers fold over my hand resting on the table, it's pacifying. She stares up at me questionly. I'm much closer to her than before. My other arm is draped around the back of her chair, the illusion of curling her into me.
Why am I being so proprietorial? Overbearing, I don't like it.
Her eyes are so naive and pure. I've wronged others with a similar innocence, wronged the less innocent, too.
Guilt… I'm a blight beside her shining virtue. But it feels good to touch her. I almost like who I am when I'm with her. Almost.
I relax and meet her gaze directly. Moving away to give her personal space and smiling nonchalantly, "It's nothing. That kid was annoying me."
Undressing Ashlen with his eyes and approaching like some kind of hot shot. Yep, that irritated me and I acted with more aversion than necessary. Can I really get mad at the little punk? Most would do the same, Ashlen *is* a beautiful woman. 'Oh well, it's his mistake for letting me catch him.'
Ash stares at the guy with a tilt of her head, trying to figure out what he did to tick me off. He's leaving, that's wise of him.
I wrinkle my nose as the guitarist for the hired live band strikes another wrong chord before finishing up the song. The note is sour and distracting. He's too tense, I can hear his heart parading around in his chest.
Nervous thrumming, this must be one of their first gigs. I've heard impressive talent at Ocean Sun's grill and bar but I doubt this band will go far. Even if the guitarist improves, the singer is underwhelming. Their drummer outshines all of them, he'd be more successful with a different lot.
I grip the bottle meant for me and pretend to drink from it. It's habit to keep up appearances but I feel a little ridiculous with Ashlen watching me as I pantomime the everyday gesture.
She's making me doubt my charade. Is it too phony? I don't drink the human stuff unless I have to but it hasn't even been a month since she's had a 'regular' drink.
She doesn't comment or laugh at me for it, so that must mean it's a very average and unnoteworthy job. Good enough for me.
She picks up her own bottle reading the label, asking aloud, "Why did you buy this for me, again? It's not like I can actually drink it."
Cooper responds as he continues scouting the area for tonight's pick, "Well, ya could, but you'd prolly vomit it up lata'," he takes his eyes off the crowd to smirk at her, "It's fer tha regulars, Ashy. So they don' suspect nuffin'. There's onlay so manay bars, ya have ta loop eventuallay."
"Hmm, I guess that makes sense."
She traces the pattern on the sticker label then props that same hand under her chin studying the mural she seems to favor. The entire wall is painted with curling sea waves and rocky beaches. The ocean sprays across the cliffs and sea birds hover in a clouded sky. The abstract, cool colors make it mellow and gloomy. Some cut glass and mosaic tiles glitter from within portions of the art.
I notice Ashlen is more forlorn today. She's usually spirited and questioning everything but tonight she's been fairly quiet.
I know something's bothering her. She bites at her nails more when she's stressed and she's been chewing at them like a stick of peppermint gum all evening.
My hand must be possessed. I'm reaching for her again, doing it without thinking. I have this strange urge to touch her, be close to her and never let her out of my sight. I fight the impulse, curling my hand into a ball and shifting positions.
Ash was only absent for the weekend but she's all I could seem to think about during that time. I spent a good amount of time worrying about her, but me worrying is nothing new. I guess it's only natural to be concerned after that whole ordeal with her family… And that abhorrent housemate of her's. I really need to rip that demon's head off and throw it in a ditch.
"So, have you been with your master the last few days?" I lean in to inquire. I try to keep my tone neutral when mentioning her maker. I detest the idea of Ashlen in the care of the reaper almost as much as the reaper herself, the affair truly unsettles me.
She looks up into my eyes trying to read them before answering.
"Yes, she's been showing me a few things," I catch her hesitation before the response. Her liquid eyes reveal more than the vague answer, they look down thoughtfully and too quickly. Something happened.
I caress her arm, this seems to be a problem. I need to keep my grubby mits off. Though, she's responsive to it, moving into me.
"You're troubled."
"Oh," she glances at me, wiping her ponderous face with a forced smile, "Just thinking."
"Thinking about what?"
"Nothing important, just spacing out," her smile widens into a convincing shape, but it doesn't quite mask the anxiety. She's lying to me. It *is* something important.
I let it go with a nod and smile back softly. I'll try to get it out of her later if the matter is pressing enough. I wrap my hand around her tiny palm reassuringly as if to say, 'I'm here when you need me.'
…I've got to stop touching her.
I glance up to meet Cooper's cheeky expression. His arms are folded smug across his chest, knowing grin and twinkling eyes mocking me. I can practically hear him say, 'Oh, shor. She's definitelay *not* yer girlfrien'. *Right*.'
I scowl at him and scoot away from Ashlen for the second time. I eye Henry sitting next to him. He's so stationary and silent I nearly forgot he's been present this entire time.
I fix on Cooper with a mischievous smirk, "Hey Henry, you should tell Cooper your trench story. He's secretly a war buff."
Cooper is still smiling but I see his eye twitch with the clenching of his jaw. He gets along with all types but doesn't really know how to handle Henry. I think the lack of humor and monotone throws off his game.
Cooper's been purposely annoying me, time for a bit of payback and entertainment. It's funny as hell to watch them attempt to interact with each other.
Henry turns to Cooper with a droopy face, solemn as the crypt keeper. Smiling is a rare thing for him and calling him 'serious' would be an understatement, they are polar opposites.
He suspires a depressed sigh and the words slink languorously out his mouth, "I suppose I can share it. It's a long story."
"Naw, naw. Don' trouble yerself, mate," Cooper says through clenched teeth, tilting his eyebrows as if bracing for unpleasantries.
"Henry will tell you, Coop. You don't have to hide your enthusiasm."
His lip curls and he flashes me a death glare from the side for a fraction of a second. I grin back at him.
"Ok, Cooper, if you insist. It was the end of summer..," Henry is already droning as if bored with his own story.
Cooper's lips tighten over his teeth with a forced smile. His look is becoming progressively more lost as the sterile tale drags on, like someone is giving him complex information in a foreign language. The corners of his mouth melt as the seconds tick. The smile fades from a crescent to a flat line of white teeth. His loquacious ways are thoroughly smothered by dear but dull Henry. Yeah... I'm enjoying this.
"Is Henry a friend of yours?" Ashlen leans into my ear to ask, she observes their interaction with squinty confusion.
"More of an acquaintance. He's local so we run into each other occasionally."
She whispers only loud enough for me to hear, "They don't exactly seem..," she raises an eyebrow, "Compatible."
I chuckle at that and watch Cooper make a light hearted joke that is wasted on Henry, flying completely over his head. He stares at Cooper like he's some kind of imbecile.
Cooper rolls his tongue over his back teeth, looking slightly more miserable and irritated. I think he would have gotten more fulfillment conversing with a rock.
"No, that's not how it was at all. You're not grasping the disarray," Henry corrects the joke as if it had been a serious statement.
Cooper grinds one finger into his own temple, the other hand curls around the neck of a bottle like he's strangling it. I hear tings and the sharp crinkling of glass that's about to give. His bemusement shifts to disillusionment.
Coop sends me another glare with tired eyes. 'Not ver' nice, ya pain in tha arse.' I can almost hear him chiding me. I snicker silently to myself.
Ashlen eyes the three of us, her eyebrows furrow in puzzlement. I'm just waiting for Cooper to tap out.
Right on the money, Cooper jolts upright as if stung. He's out of the chair and on his feet in a liquid ebb of motion. It's an uncanny pass coming from someone of his size, a grizzly bear slinking about like a jaguar.
His head nearly hits a ceiling light from being too tall. Reddish strands shine brilliantly against the dark brown curls below the concentrated bulb. Henry pauses his tale, expressionless eyes lifting to Cooper.
"Woah, what was that? Are you alright?" Ashlen asks out of concern, startled by the sudden maneuver.
"Ya, ya, not ta worry, love," he eases his stance, giving her a charming rising cheek crinkle of appreciation.
"Wellll, as *rivetin'* as this is," Cooper announces mostly to Henry. He rolls his shoulders in a mild stretch, pretending like he didn't just spring out of his chair, "There's a lass wearin' her rosarie, so I'm gonna relocate. 'Fraid I won't be hearin' tha rest of yer storay, Henray."
Henry only blinks, "We will pick up where we left off, meet me later."
"I will ya?" says Cooper with the inflection of a question. It's really a statement that means, 'You're out of your fucking mind, I'm not doing that!'
He assuredly won't be meeting up later. More likely avoiding him for the rest of the night.
Cooper begins to turn away when his face scrunches as if smelling something rank.
He grimaces, exasperating through gritted teeth, "Ah, fer tha' love o' shite…"
I clench my jaw and grip the edge of the table. The cautioning scent of warm winter spice flutters in the air. Damn it, not this again.