Dwell in Possibility - Worcester Nights Book 1

Chapter 2

The overhead bell tinkled as I pushed my way into the bar, the orange flow of sunset already tracing across the scattered tables. Good God, it was only 4:30 p.m. and already darkness was coming. As much as I looked forward to a white Christmas, there were some aspects of a New England winter which I could do without.

A sturdy, middle-aged woman, built like a Mack truck and outfitted in a nicely tailored sapphire blue dress, was working efficiently behind the bar, slicing up limes. She looked up and nodded in approval.

"You're always right on time. I value that."

I smiled and moved around to join her, hanging my Holy Cross hoodie on the hook at the far end. Aside from my textbooks, it was my one memento from the four years of time I'd invested in that place.

I picked up the rag and wiped down the bar. "It's good to see you, Mrs. O'Malley."

"Ah, lass, call me Bridgit," she insisted, as she always did. I found it hard to comply. Her presence was such a force, her movements so full of bull-like strength, that I thought of her as apart from the rest of us mere mortals.

"You should stay around for the night," I suggested. "I'd like the company." I brought my eyes down to the bar before me, pretending to focus on scrubbing out a spot. It was much more than the company; I felt intensely guilty about being a silent partner to her husband's continual cheating. It was as if I was now complicit in his activities, expected to lie to his wife for him, when all I wanted to do was turn the cheating bastard over to her fury.

But when Eileen had taken her sabbatical from this job and asked me to cover for her while she was gone, she made me vow not to disturb the balance of the bar. She wanted to come back to a quiet work environment. So, as much as it tore into my heart every day, I went along with it.

Mrs. O'Malley shook her head with gusto. "Sorry, lass, far too much to do. Tonight's the baby shower for my niece. As soon as Jimmy pries himself out of that office of his, we'll get going. Just what does he do in there all day long?"

I bit my lip and focused tenaciously on the swirl of wood before me.

There was a movement from the back room, and Jimmy strode out, wiping his hands. He nodded to his wife. "Ready to go?"

"Of course," she responded, finishing up with the limes. "The present's in the car."

Jimmy turned to me. "You know how to lock up, Katie. Make sure you call for the taxi when you are ready to head home. I know you don't live far, but don't walk there. You know this neighborhood. Those Cubans are fockin' bastards who can't be trusted around a woman."

I internally noted the disconnect of him making a statement like that, but wisely held my tongue.

Mrs. O'Malley came out from around the bar and nodded in agreement with her husband. "And that halfway house across the street – the Jefferson Hotel – you can't trust any man who's staying there."

I'd already heard this lecture numerous times. "I'll be fine," I assured them. "Besides, Joey's here to protect me."

The lanky man's eyes semi-focused for a moment as he heard his name. He turned from the TV, giving a thumb's up.

Jimmy rolled his eyes, but his wife hooked his arm and gave him a tug. "The lass'll be fine. We need to get going." A tinkle of the door's overhead bell and they were walking around the corner to wherever they'd found street parking.

I sighed, looking over the quiet crowd. It was Saturday night, supposedly the most happening night of the week. But we had only our six regulars – two lethargically battling it out over pool, four at the tables. The TV was running coverage of the celebrations for the Red Sox.