Knight Vision

Knight

  Vision

By

Johanna Bock

Knight Vision

All Rights Reserved © 2012 Johanna Bock

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Although the text has received many layers of editing, typos and/or errors may still exist.  Help me rid this book of these annoyances.  Send me your "finds".  Contact me at: [email protected]

I will be forever grateful, as will the readers of this book.

Johanna Bock

2012

Chapter One

Twenty-three-year old Annie Downs had been looking forward to this night all week.   Her best friend, Leah Painter, and she had standing weekly plans to spend Thursday evenings at a local nightspot, which featured live blackjack games.  The year was 1981 and it was before Indian gaming became legal on the reservations surrounding Phoenix, AZ.  To bypass the non-gambling laws, the club issued tokens for one’s winnings instead of cash, and the tokens could be exchanged for prizes ranging from a deck of playing cards to an inexpensive watch.  It reminded her of arcade games.  Playing casino-type games was just a way to pass the time while they had drinks.  The entire club experience was enjoyable from the employees, to the drinks, to the live music.  The blackjack was real, even if the money was not.  Leah and she were real gamblers at heart, and anywhere which reminded them of Vegas was something they enjoyed.

They would not spend big bucks because neither of them could afford it.   At the time, both were living with their parents.  Neither one of their jobs allowed them the luxury to have their own place.  Annie was a substitute teacher, and work was hit or miss.  She had just recently obtained her teaching certificate and had not found a permanent position.  Leah had just recently obtained a position with a local bank and would be starting it in two weeks.  They considered themselves fortunate that their parents loved and supported them through their early steps toward independence.

They had been Thursday-night ’regulars’ at this place for around four months.  Nothing had ever bothered them or their enjoyment of the club’s activities.  They had fun checking out the guys, even talking to them when they sat at the same blackjack table.  It was all harmless conversation or casual flirting.  Of course, Annie really couldn’t say what Leah had in mind from their adventures, but hers was to play blackjack and have a good time.

Neither liked the bar scene in the early 1980’s.  Most bars were more like meat markets than a place to have fun.  One always felt on display, just sitting at tables and waiting for someone to ask you to dance.  Annie would much rather have something to do than to just sit around waiting; that’s why they liked this club so much.  They made sure to only come to the club during the week.  The weekends were super crowded and the people were just plain. . . different.  Weekdays were always more relaxed, less crowded, which gave them the opportunity to focus on the games.  It was sort of ’practice time’ for their frequent trips to Vegas.

They liked to arrive early to make sure they had first pick of the tables for they had a favorite table and favorite spots at that table.  At the time, Leah preferred to sit at ’first base’ -- the first position of the semi-circular playing surface and to the dealer’s left. Annie liked ’third base’ -- the last position.  She liked to know what was played ahead of her, and she liked being to the right of the dealer.  It was her personal preference, no logical reason. 

Their favorite table was the one directly to the right as you entered the east-gaming area.  It backed up to the main bar’s railing, which left both the first and third-base positions space to move around without running into other players.  Arriving early that Thursday evening, their luck held as the table and both of the positions were opened.  As they settled down for the duration of the evening, they ordered drinks and began to play.

Annie looked up from her winning hand to make a comment to Leah, who was sitting directly across from her.  Before she could speak, her eyes locked on a pair of blue ones, looking straight at her.   The owner of the eyes was standing directly behind Leah.  Annie felt herself blush redder than the sweater she was wearing.  She quickly dropped her eyes back to her winning hand without saying a word.  W
hose eyes are looking at me so intently?  DARE I glance up again?  Will he still be there? Do I have something on my face?
she questioned.  Quickly using her right hand, she wiped her face, hoping to remove whatever it was.
I wonder why Leah did not tell me I had something on my face.

Thankful she was sitting at the third-base position, she knew it gave her the time to run these thoughts and motion through her mind without drawing attention to herself.  When it was her turn to respond to the dealer, she slowly drew her thoughts back to the game and she was able to perform without a hint to those around her. 
My entire inner being was affected by those eyes,
she mused.  When she finally talked herself into glancing up again, several hands had been played.  He was gone. 

She searched frantically for the owner of those blue eyes.  As she scanned the area, she suddenly realized how crowded the place had become.    Anxiousness consumed her as she felt like the world opened under her feet.  She could not breathe.  Her mind was running a hundred miles-per-hour.  Dozens of images and thoughts flashed by in a second.  She knew she had to settle down or her anxiousness would be felt by all around her, or that she would toss her cookies if she did not do something fast.   She could not concentrate on anything.  Cautiously excusing herself, she hurried toward the restroom. 

Keeping her eyes focused on the ground in front of her, she had to reach the restroom without being seen by those blue eyes.  She had to think; she needed to splash her face with cold water.  She had never before been in such an agitated state. 
What is happening to me?  I am always in control,
she thought.  But, at the moment, she did not feel in control of anything. 
I must make it to the restroom
.  So focused on looking at the floor and on her thoughts, she walked right into the back of someone.  Lifting her head to excuse herself, she looked directly into the very same blue eyes she was hoping to avoid.  Her apology caught in her throat.  She mumbled something unintelligible and kept going.  She could feel those eyes following her, and wished right there and then that the world would open up and take her.

She could not believe her luck or the lack of it; of all the people in this packed room, she had bumped into him.  She was sure he believed that she did it on purpose.  All the rest of the way to her destination, she continued to belittle herself. 
What was going on???
she kept asking over and over, but could not come up with any answers.

***

Standing at the sink basin and looking at her reflection, she kept a steady flow of questions in her mind, all leading up to the big question. 
Who was this person I have self consciously given control of myself? 
She cupped a handful of cold water and splashed her face.  At the time, she did not give a thought to the fact that the makeup, which she had taken great care earlier to apply to her face, was not waterproof, but she just had to give herself a reality check.  Boy, did she get a reality check.  The makeup was now running down her face.  She started laughing uncontrollably, thinking his eyes would surely get an eyeful now.  A wild thought passed though her mind; she should march right now out of the restroom with her face appearing to be melting.  But, she knew she would not be able to do it.  Her laughter died as she proceeded to clean her face of any remaining makeup and then, cleaned up the mess she had made on the restroom sink. 

While cleaning, she pondered the situation. 
Would he be standing outside the door?  Just who does he think he is to turn my life upside down?  What was he staring at so intently?  I know
;
maybe he was not looking at me.  Yeah, that’s it.  I was just letting my imagination run wild.  Nobody, in my twenty-three years of life, has ever given me that type of look before.

Standing back, she studied herself in the mirror.  She was a large woman with a five-foot, ten-inch frame, and carried extra pounds on her buns, hips and legs -- a genetic trait on her mother’s side of the family.  You could say one could pinch more than and inch, but less than a foot.  For having a queen-sized bottom, her top was almost the opposite.  Her favorite saying was, “more than a handful is wasted“.

As for her face, even without makeup, it was somewhat pretty.  Let’s just say people always commented on her face, but it could be that they did not want to comment on her less-than-perfect body.  Her face was smooth, without acne marks from the teenage years.  Her eyes were a combination of blue and green with just a hint of gold; her driver’s license listed ’hazel’.  One former boyfriend used to say the gold in her eyes would sparkle in candlelight; she did not know if this was true or if he just wanted to get her to do what he desired.   Her perky little nose gave her problems when she tried to wear glasses.  She had to admit the widow’s peak did give her face some character.  Her hair was shoulder-length, brown and layered with natural highlights of gold running through it.  Overall, she would say she was nothing to write home about to mother.

She was selling herself short in the outward-image-department, but she did know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was her personality which everyone envied. A very outgoing-type person, she usually thought her looks were not important to her.  Never being the type to judge a book by its cover, she liked to explore a person’s character and personality before she passed judgment.  Her self-examination allowed her to settle down and gain control of her inner turmoil.