Linear Shift, Part 1

Chapter 7

Peter turned his bar stool to see Stella Fryer standing behind him. Stella stood a gracious five feet, two inches tall, and wore a jean miniskirt. She wore three-inch black pumps, which greatly improved her height. Her top was slightly sheer, and he could see the outline of her black bra beneath. Her ruby red painted lips smiled ear to ear, and parted to say, "Long time, no see, handsome."

"Hello, Stella. It has been a while." Stella was a few years older than Peter, and was the only woman that he had considered romantically since Minnie died. But something always delayed Peter from acting on his visual attraction. He wasn't sure if it was her over-flirtatious personality that stopped him, or if it was the fact that she was the local "bar ornament" with a moderately slutty disposition. After many nights spent drowning his sorrows there, he never saw her leave with another man. Still, Peter found it difficult to make a move. "I'd offer you a seat, but as you can see, all full."

"Don't worry about it, baby. Grab your drink and come back to my booth. I've got someone I want you to meet anyway."

Stella was the one person Peter didn't want to see tonight. The last time he was there, he and Stella had a few too many drinks, and things moved a bit too far, too fast. She knew he was still suffering the loss of his wife, and he told her he wasn't ready, but Stella pushed and pushed and had her hands down his pants most of that late night. Stella was a good part of the reason why he'd stopped going into Herb's—that, plus his lack of discretionary income. That had been four months ago.

"I would love to come back to your booth, Stella, but..." Peter paused to think of the right words to communicate the messages "not interested" and "no chance in hell" without hurting her feelings. "It's just that I need to talk with Benny, and Joe thinks he'll be here any moment," lied Peter. "Maybe later?"

Stella turned on a heel and ambled back to her table. Peter felt bad for being so blunt with her, but he was still not in a place where he felt comfortable, romantically, with another woman. Deep inside, he still felt devoted to Minnie, even though enough time had passed. Benny would tell him "Just sleep with her, already" anytime Stella would hang around them. Benny's thought on the matter was "It's just sex." Maybe Benny was right, thought Peter. Maybe he should just sleep with another woman—maybe he would feel better for it. Maybe with another woman not named Stella.

Peter chuckled to himself about the thought as he downed the last of his scotch. He flagged Joe down for another. Joe nodded and held up his finger indicating it would be a minute. While he waited, Peter began to review the conversation with the general again in his mind. Could it all be possible? Could time travel actually work? Peter recalled reading many science fiction stories where time travel was possible, but only if you didn't change the past. But that was exactly what the general was proposing. What if he went back to make this small change, and it ended up making a much bigger transformation than anyone ever considered? He surmised that the think tank behind the mission had to have already given that a lot of thought if they were moving forward with the program.

Completely lost in his thoughts, Peter didn't see Joe slide his drink in front of him. Peter picked up the drink and toasted him. Joe returned the nod and continued about his business. Peter raised the glass to his nose to smell the woody notes he was so fond of. He took a long drink, savoring the burn as it went down. Peter was not a lush, but the day demanded drinking. This was now his fifth or sixth drink for the day, and he was feeling a bit fuzzy. Granted, they were spread out through the day, but it was a nice buzz nonetheless. It was a good feeling after so many months of self-control.

The longer Peter sat alone, the more the loneliness started to creep in. He was really hoping that Benny would have been there by now. What were his options to kill the boredom? He could strike up a conversation with one of the strangers to his left or to his right—both of whom were deep in conversation with others. He could venture back and talk with Stella. He knew where that would lead: having Stella play footsie with him beneath the table, and possibly getting blown in the parking lot. Or he could sit and wait until Benny or somebody else he knew arrived. He tossed back the remaining few swallows of his drink and flagged Joe for another. He would wait. It had been a long time since he and Benny had talked, and he had things on his mind that he could only share with Benny.

As Peter waited, he peered into the reflection in the mirror to see if the couple was still in the booth across the bar. The booth was now empty, and once he noticed it, he turned and looked around the bar to see if they had moved or just left. He found them sitting in the corner booth with Stella. From what Peter could see, they were in a deep conversation and Stella did not look comfortable.

Peter looked over at Joe and waved him over. "Hey Joe, you see those two talking with Stella?" Peter tilted his head in their direction. "Have you seen them here before?"

Joe, not the most discreet person, flipped his head in their direction. "Nope. First time I've seen them was tonight. They came in right about the same time as you. Why do you ask?"

"I noticed them earlier and they seemed to be watching my every move. Kind of creeps me out." As he told this to Joe, he began to develop a plan—an alcohol-induced plan at that. He leaned closer to Joe and whispered into his ear. As Peter continued to talk, Joe's solemn expression turned into a devious smile. He nodded and said he'd play along.