Chapter Two:
The rain was fresh upon the streets as Lou squinted in the daylight, his shoeleather softening with every step.
Rainy Night Saloon
Every face has a story to tell in the Rainy Night Saloon
Sunday, September 28, 2003
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Chapter One: Footfalls
He knew she was trouble the moment she walked in.
Lou was scrubbing a glass to a shine when he heard the familiar hinge-cry from the only part of the saloon he couldn't see, which could only mean that someone had found the Rainy Night Saloon. The floorboards creaked out a new song, new rhythms, a new cadence. Lou looked up from his glass, placing it within comfortable reach with practiced ease. Whoever this was, the Saloon was unaccustomed to her footfalls.
Yes, Lou knew this stranger was a woman simply from the way her feet impacted the floor, one step after another. Minute, deliberate. Walking in heels will do that.
Lou now knew more about this woman than anyone should already know, more than he would admit to anybody, especially her. A frown crossed his lips quickly, registering his thoughts, but also his suspicions what he suspected. By the time she came into view, any visible trace of the emotion was gone and Lou the Bartender was back on duty.
The stranger surveyed the room quickly with one glance, her body tense, like a deer tasting the air for signs of danger. But her second glance was more casual, taking in the decor, the chairs, the people, and finally settling on Lou. Her footfalls were light and practiced as she approached him, her eyes meeting his. Both pairs flashed for a moment and she settled lightly on her stool, watching him.
Lou threw his dish cloth over his shoulder, leaned forward on one elbow, never breaking eye contact. "Cranberry cocktail?" he asked with a smirk.
She returned his question, defiant. "Is that your professional opinion?"
"No," he replied, reaching below the bar to pull out a bottle of sherry. Uncorking it and savouring its aroma before pouring a glass. "But I find that most new patrons don't know what to ask for when they first sit on those stools. Depending on how they answer that question, I can guess at their true tastes."
She reached out for the crystal container and eyed the sherry with a experienced eye that had seen the bottom of many a bottle. "I guess the rumours have some truth to them in the end." She sipped the burgundy liquid delicately, savoring its body, and her smile deepened as its warmth suffused her body. Lou watched her for a moment and then, with a flick of his wrist, he grabbed the dish towel and returned to his glasses.
He knew well enough not to turn his back on this one, though. Lesser men have felt the linoleum crease their faces as their life spilled openly and freely from the wounds she would have inflicted.
Of this, he had no doubt. He wiped his glass, watching, calculating.
The night passed quickly and without incident. By midnight, most of the regulars had waved their goodbyes, but the Sherry glass in front of the woman was still being refilled. She looked at herself in the mirror behind the bar and Lou recognized the look of a person who wished for a different life. Apparently the Sherry was having the effect he predicted.
Shakily, but still with practiced grace, the woman stood up and gathered her belongings. She removed a manila envelope from her purse and placed it on the bar, sliding it to Lou. "Thanks for the Sherry and the ear. I needed that tonight. My name is Roxanne."
"Always a pleasure Ms. Roxanne," replied Lou. "But we didn't really discuss anything."
"Didn't we?" she smiled. "I'll remember your generosity. Good evening." Her delicate footfalls echoed into the night, sweeping the air away from her as she passed through the saloon.
Lou watched her leave with curiosity mixed with a feeling of foreboding that he could not identify. He peered inside the envelope and was surprised that it contained the exact amount to pay her tab.
Tonight was a setup, he thought, placing his hand upon the cold steel of the pistol beneath the bar, but it brought him little comfort. He caressed the barrel and wondered if he would ever have to use it again. Could he even follow through with the next time? The scars from the last confrontation still haunted his dreams.
He returned to cleaning his glasses, his eyes fixated on a point beyond the walls of the Rainy Night Saloon.
He knew she was trouble the moment she walked in.
Lou was scrubbing a glass to a shine when he heard the familiar hinge-cry from the only part of the saloon he couldn't see, which could only mean that someone had found the Rainy Night Saloon. The floorboards creaked out a new song, new rhythms, a new cadence. Lou looked up from his glass, placing it within comfortable reach with practiced ease. Whoever this was, the Saloon was unaccustomed to her footfalls.
Yes, Lou knew this stranger was a woman simply from the way her feet impacted the floor, one step after another. Minute, deliberate. Walking in heels will do that.
Lou now knew more about this woman than anyone should already know, more than he would admit to anybody, especially her. A frown crossed his lips quickly, registering his thoughts, but also his suspicions what he suspected. By the time she came into view, any visible trace of the emotion was gone and Lou the Bartender was back on duty.
The stranger surveyed the room quickly with one glance, her body tense, like a deer tasting the air for signs of danger. But her second glance was more casual, taking in the decor, the chairs, the people, and finally settling on Lou. Her footfalls were light and practiced as she approached him, her eyes meeting his. Both pairs flashed for a moment and she settled lightly on her stool, watching him.
Lou threw his dish cloth over his shoulder, leaned forward on one elbow, never breaking eye contact. "Cranberry cocktail?" he asked with a smirk.
She returned his question, defiant. "Is that your professional opinion?"
"No," he replied, reaching below the bar to pull out a bottle of sherry. Uncorking it and savouring its aroma before pouring a glass. "But I find that most new patrons don't know what to ask for when they first sit on those stools. Depending on how they answer that question, I can guess at their true tastes."
She reached out for the crystal container and eyed the sherry with a experienced eye that had seen the bottom of many a bottle. "I guess the rumours have some truth to them in the end." She sipped the burgundy liquid delicately, savoring its body, and her smile deepened as its warmth suffused her body. Lou watched her for a moment and then, with a flick of his wrist, he grabbed the dish towel and returned to his glasses.
He knew well enough not to turn his back on this one, though. Lesser men have felt the linoleum crease their faces as their life spilled openly and freely from the wounds she would have inflicted.
Of this, he had no doubt. He wiped his glass, watching, calculating.
The night passed quickly and without incident. By midnight, most of the regulars had waved their goodbyes, but the Sherry glass in front of the woman was still being refilled. She looked at herself in the mirror behind the bar and Lou recognized the look of a person who wished for a different life. Apparently the Sherry was having the effect he predicted.
Shakily, but still with practiced grace, the woman stood up and gathered her belongings. She removed a manila envelope from her purse and placed it on the bar, sliding it to Lou. "Thanks for the Sherry and the ear. I needed that tonight. My name is Roxanne."
"Always a pleasure Ms. Roxanne," replied Lou. "But we didn't really discuss anything."
"Didn't we?" she smiled. "I'll remember your generosity. Good evening." Her delicate footfalls echoed into the night, sweeping the air away from her as she passed through the saloon.
Lou watched her leave with curiosity mixed with a feeling of foreboding that he could not identify. He peered inside the envelope and was surprised that it contained the exact amount to pay her tab.
Tonight was a setup, he thought, placing his hand upon the cold steel of the pistol beneath the bar, but it brought him little comfort. He caressed the barrel and wondered if he would ever have to use it again. Could he even follow through with the next time? The scars from the last confrontation still haunted his dreams.
He returned to cleaning his glasses, his eyes fixated on a point beyond the walls of the Rainy Night Saloon.
Monday, July 28, 2003
Introduction: Rainy Night Saloon
On the outskirts of reality
Just the other side of town
There's a doorway to the stars
Up an alley - two steps down
A juke box with a steering wheel
Plays a waltz as you get the feel of the place
Your eyes connect your face to the
Rainy Night Saloon
Out of the dark a drink appears
Take a look around
The walls are a colour you've never seen and...
What's that sound?
An alligator in a pink tuxedo
Does a dance called the "Love Torpedo"
Is it great?
Yes indeedo!
The Rainy Night Saloon
It's twenty-three hours northeast of Rangoon
The Rainy Night Saloon
The bartender is the man in the moon
I really want to get back there soon
No sign
Hot clientele
The regulars all know it well
Every face has a story to tell in the
Rainy Night Saloon
The Bill of Fare is extraordinaire
But careful what you say
The walls are thin
You can hear a pin drop
And the chef's funny that way
So if you find a flea collar in the soup du jour
Or a bandage in the salad
You're a guest
Be on your best behaviour in the
Rainy Night Saloon
The health inspector came to shut it down
They found his car in another town
My oh my
Word gets around
It's twenty-three hours northeast of Rangoon
The Rainy Night Saloon
The bartender is the man in the moon
I really want to get back there soon
No sign
Hot clientele
The regulars all know it well
Every face has a story to tell in the
Rainy Night Saloon
The head bouncer is two feet tall
She wears a whistle ring
If you misbehave she plays a note
A trapdoor opens
You don't feel a thing
But once a month, maybe more
There's a bang and a scream from the cellar door
Nobody asks whats under the floor
Of the Rainy Night Saloon
It's twenty-three hours northeast of Rangoon
The Rainy Night Saloon
The bartender is the man in the moon
I really want to get back there soon
No sign
Hot clientele
The regulars all know it well
Every face has a story to tell in the
Rainy Night Saloon
- David Wilcox
On the outskirts of reality
Just the other side of town
There's a doorway to the stars
Up an alley - two steps down
A juke box with a steering wheel
Plays a waltz as you get the feel of the place
Your eyes connect your face to the
Rainy Night Saloon
Out of the dark a drink appears
Take a look around
The walls are a colour you've never seen and...
What's that sound?
An alligator in a pink tuxedo
Does a dance called the "Love Torpedo"
Is it great?
Yes indeedo!
The Rainy Night Saloon
It's twenty-three hours northeast of Rangoon
The Rainy Night Saloon
The bartender is the man in the moon
I really want to get back there soon
No sign
Hot clientele
The regulars all know it well
Every face has a story to tell in the
Rainy Night Saloon
The Bill of Fare is extraordinaire
But careful what you say
The walls are thin
You can hear a pin drop
And the chef's funny that way
So if you find a flea collar in the soup du jour
Or a bandage in the salad
You're a guest
Be on your best behaviour in the
Rainy Night Saloon
The health inspector came to shut it down
They found his car in another town
My oh my
Word gets around
It's twenty-three hours northeast of Rangoon
The Rainy Night Saloon
The bartender is the man in the moon
I really want to get back there soon
No sign
Hot clientele
The regulars all know it well
Every face has a story to tell in the
Rainy Night Saloon
The head bouncer is two feet tall
She wears a whistle ring
If you misbehave she plays a note
A trapdoor opens
You don't feel a thing
But once a month, maybe more
There's a bang and a scream from the cellar door
Nobody asks whats under the floor
Of the Rainy Night Saloon
It's twenty-three hours northeast of Rangoon
The Rainy Night Saloon
The bartender is the man in the moon
I really want to get back there soon
No sign
Hot clientele
The regulars all know it well
Every face has a story to tell in the
Rainy Night Saloon
- David Wilcox
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