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Authors: Jessica MacIntyre

BOOK: Blackbird
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“Billie, all the other girls hate it too. It’s completely sexist and it’s not like you need to attract customers. Most of the time we’re so busy people are waitlisted for a table. What’s the point of it?”

“Chelle, I’m only going to say this once. The point of it doesn’t matter. We don’t owe you an explanation as to the point. It’s the rule. You can go put it on or you can leave.”

              After a few moments of silence he heard a quiet, ‘fine’. Chelle had relented. Billie certainly had no problems putting her foot down. Robert didn’t either but would have handled it entirely differently. Talking to people like that was what made them quit, and his parents had always taught him that a high turnover costs money in the long run. He would have to talk with her over dinner and encourage her to be more diplomatic. The staff already bristled when she came around and he couldn’t have that. Cole’s had always been a good place to work and he wasn’t about to see that change.

              “Grab two cases and put them out front before you change,” he heard her say. And with that the door opened. Chelle came toward him, giving him a friendly nod as she struggled to grab two large cases of Keith’s.

              “Need some help?”

              “No, I got it,” she said, putting the shirt on top of the boxes as she lifted them. They got roughly three inches off the floor before she had to put them down again.

              “Maybe just take one at a time,” he said, giving her a warm smile.

              She seemed embarrassed, but managed to return his smile anyway. “Good idea. I’ll be right back.”

              Chelle was someone he liked very much. She had a quiet resiliency that he admired. No matter what was happening she always managed to keep her head up, do her work and get things accomplished. She was a good worker and sadly these days that was a rare find. She was also quite pretty. Not in a conventional way like Billie or some of the other waitresses, but in a natural and classy way. She had long straight black hair and deep brown eyes which were always set off by the lipstick she constantly wore. And it was constantly.

              Halifax being a small city he had run into her a few times outside of work. She kept early mornings even though she worked the closing shift and it was common to see her at the coffee shop down the street. Hair tousled and strewn like she’d just rolled out of bed, but she’d always taken the time to put on the lipstick. Truth be told he thought it was sexy as hell. Most of her beauty though was in the way she carried herself. There were lots of pretty girls that came and went from the bar, but something about Chelle was different. It was some kind of an asset he could never put his finger on.

              As he watched her walk off with the beer, barely able to carry the one case as it was, he took a quick note of her form. She was perhaps only five foot three but she had a great body. Her back was probably as beautiful as the rest of her so he couldn’t understand why she would have a problem with the new backless shirts Billie had picked out. All the girls looked smoldering in them and she would too.

              When she disappeared around the corner he sighed and pushed the door open to the office. He was getting married in a few weeks and should really stop looking at other women. Billie gave him a warm smile as he entered and stood, putting her arms around his waist and kissing him passionately. He kissed her back, noting how good she looked. Billie rarely had even so much as a hair out of place. It was after ten o’clock and she still looked like she’d only just finished getting ready. They had gone to school together and their parents had been friends. Everyone had been pushing for this union since they were kids and now it was finally happening. After years of playing the field, Robert Cole, the most eligible bachelor in town, was going to settle down. He had always resisted dating Billie because he knew once he did, the courtship would play through to its logical conclusion. Now, after having just turned thirty, he was finally willing to admit the whole idea made sense.

              “Holding down the fort?” he said, smiling down at her.

              “Yeah, no major incidents. Just had to straighten one employee out just now. I mean, we’re their bosses not their friends, right? They’ll walk all over us if we don’t let them know that we’re the ones in charge.”

              Robert wholeheartedly disagreed with that but it was too late to argue. All he wanted to do was have some dinner, then go home and watch the hockey game. Before he could answer there was a frantic knock on the door. Whoever it was didn’t wait for an answer before barging in. “Hey Boss,” it was Lisa. Thin and pale, she had been a fixture at the bar for the last ten years. She’d obviously seen something that made her queasy. “Ricky just tossed his cookies in the bathroom. He can’t come out. He’s pretty sick I don’t think he’s gonna be able to stay.”

             
Shit! There goes my night.
  “You go home,” he said walking away from Billie. “I’m gonna have to take over.”

              “What?” Billie was turning slightly crimson with anger. “But I thought we were having dinner.”

              He turned back to face her, taking her face in his hands. Billie liked running the bar but didn’t yet realize the full extent of the responsibility. The other bartender was on vacation in Cuba and so Ricky was the only option, and if Ricky couldn’t do it that only left him.  “I’m sorry sweetheart. This is how it goes sometimes. You head out and I’ll see you in the morning.”

              Billie gave a frustrated sigh and broke free of him, exiting the office without as much as a goodbye. He could see Lisa felt embarrassed for him, but he simply and calmly locked the office door and made his way to the bar, slipping behind it and changing the channel to the hockey game. The music was on but not overly loud. If he had to be stuck behind one of his bars for the next four hours couldn’t it have at least been the sports bar a few buildings down? At least then he would have been able to hear it too. Of all the luck.

              He began serving drinks and taking money as people and staff came up to the bar with their orders and the din of the crowd melted together into a level of chatter that was a certain kind of soothing. He’d been tending bar ever since he was old enough and could probably do it in his sleep. His mind emptied and the only thing he focused on where drinks and money, taking the occasional glance up at the game to check the score.

              After he had been serving drinks for a good twenty minutes he realized he had taken drink orders from everyone except Chelle. He noticed something else too. Picking his head up he noted a shift in the air, the awkward pause that everyone had taken from their night out. All eyes were focused in one direction, on the missing waitress who was walking toward him, tray in hand.

              She faced him, head up and eyes steady. The tray however trembled in her hands. “I need two shots of Crown Royal and two Buds.”

              Robert was silent for a moment, watching the crowd behind her in confusion. Chelle had just taken the order of two young men at a table directly behind her and one of them was making a gagging motion with his finger as he looked at his friend. He put the order on the counter and with trembling fingers Chelle did her best to place them on the tray without spilling them.

              As she turned to walk away he finally saw what everyone else had seen. What they had been pointing and staring at that, until a second ago, had so confused him. There, on her back, were two very large scars, running the length of each shoulder blade. Whatever had happened to her had left the skin on her back looking like it had been shredded, and not just once, but multiple times, as if someone had taken sharp blades and very deliberately cut into her back over and over again.

              Now he understood her protest against the shirt. If he’d had any idea there would have been no way in hell he would have subjected her to that. Robert put his hand over his mouth, disgusted with himself that he’d let Billie talk him into the new uniforms in the first place.

              The shots he’d poured rippled in the small glasses slightly as she placed them in front of the two men, but they didn’t spill. Then as she was placing the beer down one of them said, “Looks like you got in a fight with a chainsaw or something.”

              This gave the two of them the go ahead to begin snickering. The other one said, “Fuck. You must have
really
pissed somebody off, sweetheart.” Both of them went from snickering under their breath, to openly laughing. Robert had seen Chelle deal with every manner of asshole that can walk into a bar in the three months she had been working for him and usually she took whatever smart remark they had to give and brushed it off. Not this time. From where he was standing he saw her eyes redden and a few tears begin to fall. She stood for a moment not knowing what to do. This seemed to make the two assholes laugh even harder.

              “Must’ve cut out her tongue too, eh?” Suddenly the tray hit the floor with a clatter and Chelle bolted back in the direction of the office, disappearing from everyone’s sight. Every bit of chatter in the bar had stopped and as the song that was playing ended the bar grew deathly silent.

              Robert’s hands were shaking now too and he grabbed an empty tray from another waitress as he walked toward the two. As calmly as he could he removed the drinks and said, “Out. You’re done here.”

              In their drunkenness they became indignant. “What? Us? It’s that fucking gross waitress you should be telling to leave. How are people supposed to eat and drink and look at that mess?”

              “Yeah,” the other said. “It’s disgusting. She looks like someone spilled acid on her.”

              Robert signaled one of the bouncers who came over and stood by the table in silence with his arms crossed. “I said you’re done here. Don’t come back.”

              “Don’t come back? I’ve been coming here for years. It’s you that’s in the wrong. You hired a bitch who was all fucked up.”

              Without even thinking Robert placed the tray on the table, balled his fist up and reared back, punching the man square in the face. “I don’t like having to repeat myself. You’re done! Out! Don’t show your face in here again.”

              Before they could protest the bouncer grabbed the man, blood trickling down his face and neck and threw him outside. His friend decided he didn’t need to be told twice and quickly scurried toward the exit on his own like a frightened mouse. Everyone was staring at him now. He didn’t care. “Nancy, jump behind the bar for a few minutes,” he said to another waitress as he headed back toward the office.

              Quickly he grabbed one of the old uniform tee shirts that all the girls had turned in and began looking around for Chelle. Lisa was coming up the stairs from the cellar. “She’s locked herself in there,” she said, frowning.

              “I’ll talk to her.”

              Robert was standing in the old cellar directly in front of the door to the storage area. He lifted his hand to knock, but then hesitated. A moment passed as he tried to think of what to say. “Chelle?” he said, rapping at the door softly. “I have a shirt for you. I’m going to leave it outside the door ok?”

              No response.

              “I just want you to know that I’m sorry. We’re sorry. I would never have asked you to wear it if...” he didn’t know how to end that sentence without sounding like an awkward jerk. He was the boss and the buck stopped with him. He had been happy with the tee shirts and should have said so instead of letting Billie convince him to fix something that wasn’t broken. Now poor Chelle was in the cellar, probably crying her eyes out behind that door, humiliated, and it was all his fault.

              “I threw those guys out and told them they can’t come back. You can go home if you want, Chelle…ok?” Still nothing. Damn he wished she’d say something.

              “Chelle are you alright?”  Still there was silence. “Ok, I understand. Look, I’m very sorry. We’re gonna go back to the shirts starting tomorrow. I’m sorry.”  He was repeating himself but didn’t have any idea of how else to say it. He
was
sorry, but right now he had a feeling she didn’t give a flying fuck how he felt. He decided just to leave her be.

              “I’m going back upstairs. Have someone come get me if you need anything. Truly Chelle, I’m very sorry.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

              Stumbling down the stairs Chelle nearly fell halfway down. At the last moment she managed to grab the banister, pulling it partway out of the wall as she did. She shoved it quickly back into place hoping nobody would notice and ran as fast as she could toward the open door. This was the only safe place for this to happen at work. Hopefully nobody was in there. Nobody should be because as far as she knew all of the employees were upstairs dealing with the busy Saturday night hockey crowd.

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