InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "jingle bells of love"

ecks. (unwittingly) wrote in haunted_roads,
@ 2008-06-04 02:28:00

Entry tags:

bastian, ecks

Week Nine: Wednesday.
Who: Ecks & Bastian
When: Wednesday, late in the evening
Where: The Barking Spider Tavern
What: Nothing to do but drink

The thing about living in your car was that you never want to spend more time in it than necessary. Apartments, no matter how small, were larger than the backseat of your car. You could stand to waste some time in a shoebox of an apartment than a tuna can of a car. Fairly certain of an impending bout of claustrophobia looming in the future, Ecks had taken to driving with the front windows down. Even on night like this, when it was almost could enough to snow, he was the only man on the street with his windows down. At the red light, he considered for a moment to put them halfway up, but his hands never moved to do so. Ecks was on the prowl for somewhere to go, to get out of this can. His options were temporarily limited. The venues were vast in this city but his review was not complete and the direct result was the tank running nearly on 'E'. As soon as he was paid, he would fill it to the brim and blow the rest on cigarette papers, booze, and a bit of food.

He woke up on the wrong side of the seat or something this morning. Ecks had been in a piss-poor mood for most of the day and though he had become something of an introvert in the last few months, today and really just been one of those days. Angry, just plain angry, at everything in life; the car, the job, the money, the city, the guy that looked your way for longer than a second, the pigeon that shit on the windshield, whoever did whatever that landed you in your current situation. Why not be mad at the world today? Wednesdays were good days to tell the whole planet to go blow itself.

The Barking Spider Tavern looked like the perfect place to sit and drink. He was hardly in the mood for actual conversation or contemplation and alcohol did seem to take care of that pretty well. The weather was going to be unforgiving tonight, again, and sleeping in the cold while half off your rocker was not healthy but effective. He parked the car down the alley a bit as there was every intention once he had finished his stay at the tavern that he could stumble right home and sleep it off.

Before he opened the door, he checked his worn leather wallet to see how much he had left. Jackson crept up in front of brightly-colored Post-Its with names and numbers scrawled across them--names of people for stories and reviews. Tonight looked like it was going to be the last night he could spend at the bar for the next few days, until he had managed to crank out at least two decent reviews and make the weary freelance-writer's fee. Thankfully, there was still enough papers and tobacco to last until his next binge. Ecks entered into the tavern through the door slowly enough to absorb a bit of the atmosphere. It seemed like any place that had its regulars and drifters such as he, kept up enough to be clean and pass the health inspections but nothing to put on the cover of the city's highlights magazines. This was perfect; a place where a guy could come and have a drink or two, hassle-free.

Ecks strolled over to the bar and sat a good five seats away from another customer. He unzipped his beaten-up leather jacket, the room a great deal warmer than the interior of the car, and sat with the four layers of shirts snug against his skin that were rotated for warmth and to supposedly keep them clean longer. The note was put back in his wallet, hardly enough for a man of his tolerance to get completely and utterly soused, but he could get licked with it. "Bourbon on the rocks," he gave without emotion in his voice to the figure behind the counter. Elbows were placed comfortably on the edge of the counter; his heels hooked the bottom rung of the stool, and for a short time, his eyes drifted to different areas of the outdated decor.

Ads by Project Wonderful! Your ad here, right now: $0

(Post a new comment)

better_days
2008-06-04 10:10 pm UTC (link)

The barking spider was a place that many called home during those late night hours. Bastian happened to be one of them. Not for the drink or the muted mime on the tv spouting the local news or weather. No for Bastian this was home because it had always been. Growing up here, helping out long before most would have deemed it “appropriate” for a boy to be in the bar. That had never stopped Bastian or his old man. You did what needed to be done and not like Bastian was chugging down beers at age ten. The problem for Bastian, lately, was that home didn’t feel much like home anymore. The people were the same. The atmosphere hadn’t changed. The bar was still worn around the edges but together enough to be presentable. To the casual observer it would seem the bar was the exact same as it had been years ago when Bastian had last been seen in it. But for Bastian it was completely, and totally, different.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to the corner where he knew blood had once stained. He couldn’t help but recall the way it felt when his body hit the ground and the world around him began to spin. He stood behind the bar and just kept waiting. Waiting for the bitch to walk on in again like she owned the place. No…like she owned him. He knew it was inevitable. She wouldn’t stay away forever. She wasn’t the sort to. Too fucking bad for Bastian right? Apparently life was stuck on that story a bit too much.

Tonight he was here rather then out. Seated where he often was behind the counter, watching the people milling about. He could have been at the house, spending time with the family that he knew was walking on eggshells around him. Even Sophie was and she hadn’t been told that full truth yet. The time was adding up, days ticking by. She’d be pissed. But for some reason Bastian wasn’t eager to have the sorry your daddies a vampire talk with the little girl that wasn’t one anymore. Time would come when he’d have to just say fuck it and do it. Face that rejection and doubt for the third time over. He should have just made it some family affair. Like a bad surprise party.

No he wasn’t at home. And he wasn’t out on the streets tonight either. He’d fed once the sun went down and then came straight here to help out the old man tucked into the back office. Bastian could have been out there looking for others to aid him, to help him stay out of that bitches hands again. He could have…but he’d been doing that for days now. Weeks. It felt like a hell of a lot longer then all of that. He’d run across some, a few possible names and possible ties. But he knew no matter what he did that he was going to have to owe someone and that alone put his family at risk. Between a rock and a hard place there were no clear cut answers and that was…well fucking frustrating.

So he was here. Wearing that bartender smile that wasn’t all together true. Giving those hellos and listening ear to those that came in needing to rant about this or that. Typical night with typical people. Most of them were faces he knew, faces that now didn’t show any surprise at Bastian’s presence. One day of oh your back and it was as though he’d never left in the first place. Was sometimes nice to know some things didn’t change…especially when it felt like everything else fucking had.

The new face walking in was noticed. He wasn’t a face that Bastian recognized but was that really anything new? He’d been out of Seattle for a long time..people had come and gone in the years he’d been away. Bastian didn’t bother with any offered smile or welcome that would likely fall on deaf ears. The man looked like he just wanted his drink and Bastian knew that feeling all too well to go about denying him.

“Coming right up.” Bastian responded, pushing himself up to his feet, slinging the towel in his hands over his shoulder and going about getting the drink ready before setting it down in front of the other. “Hey another round of beers while your up!” a group shouted from the back, flashing cheeky grins. The groups that were having fun…the groups that just wanted to drown in their drinks. There were always pretty distinct differences.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

unwittingly
2008-06-05 11:22 pm UTC (link)

A cigarette had already been rolled and had been safely placed behind his right ear until he had made the distance from the car to the bar. With his drink on the way, Ecks slid it from beneath shaggy ends of his dirty hair and it was held instinctively between his finger and second fingers. A small, silver lighter emerged from the left-hand pocket of his tattered jeans. The scrap of metal pulled from metal not unfamiliar in a place like this as the lid was flicked back, starter struck, and a small flame danced for the three seconds it took to like the end of his first true vice. Returned with ease, Ecks shifted his weight a little on the stool. It was always good to be sitting on something without a spring poking you in the balls.

Smoking was the simpler pleasure in life. Women had been a pleasure but one had done well to tarnish their shine. But that is how it was in life. One bad experience could ruin everything for you. You could have eaten a hundred turkey sandwiches in a single year and then a bad one comes along that gives you food poisoning and you never want to eat another again. Vodka's been a good choice until the night you try one of those fruity-flavored ones and after you come up from the toilet bowl for air, just the memory of its scent makes your stomach churn. One bad album from a band and you cannot bear to listen to any that follow. Ecks was bound to be single, dedicated to roast beef sandwiches, bourbon, and nothing from David Bowie after 1982. What bad ever came from smoking? The future seemed dismal and he had no intentions to attempt to live forever. As he dragged a little harder than he had meant to do, he was setting himself up to spiral into another evening of self-loathing and deprecation; the attractive qualities every woman looks for after "enjoys long walks on the beach" and before "wants kids".

"Thanks," Ecks gave as the glass was set before him. He could hear the group behind him, the people that were in love with life or at least could drink enough to have that hallucination. It was evident that the Barking Spider was going to have to be a place he could wander into when he was in better spirits. Something leeched onto the back on his neck when the mood of the room was better than his own. It felt a lot like expectation. An invisible hand could come and clasp the back of his neck despite his layers and his rather dirty appearance and give him a squeeze of encouragement. Come on, boy! Wipe that look off your face. He could see fine lines in his face developed over the months from scowling. It was as if his face had forgotten other expressions of emotion. But like many, when Ecks drank, everything softened. The pent-up rage, frustration, even slivers of the loneliness could melt away and be swished back into the bottom of a bottle.

The mind was scattered tonight and he picked up the glass without any obvious rush, the edge of the bottom scraped just a bit over the counter before he licked his lips and took that first sip. No matter how many times he had drank it, the first bit always burned if it was good. Cauterizing a wound felt like that; the burn, the tingle, and the slow but eventual relief. Another drag, another sip, another night completely wasted on regrets and substance abuse.

He was not the first person that you would want for company, no, but he could make an appearance from the hole he had managed to crawl into and actually speak to people. Once the others had been served their next round of beers and the bar tender made his way back, he asked lamely, "How late are you open?" Some bars followed the city's restrictions, others were left alone and out of the way that the governed themselves. His eyes fell over the place again and Ecks made the guess that they were the sort that did their own thing most of the time.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

better_days
2008-06-07 03:50 pm UTC (link)

Smoking. A few heads turned when the cigarette was lit up, those new to the bar that didn’t quiet realize that the owners here didn’t much care about it. Bastian had actually been pretty surprised when he returned to find that smoking bans had been put into place. With the way the Barking Spider had been hounded by red tape and asshole inspectors they likely should have been more concerned. But Bastian didn’t have it in him to be. He wasn’t going to deny anyone a vice or two. Not when he knew the appeal of it himself. Turning hadn’t changed that any, even if for years he wasn’t allowed a taste of drink or smoke. Now one was often seen at his lips, even at the bar. Bastian wasn’t a fool about it; he knew how to keep it all safe.

Still a few glanced from the man to the bartender behind the bar looking like he could care less. Thankfully they weren’t the snotty sorts that curled up their faces in disgust and huffed their way out of the bar. Those sorts didn’t come into the Spider, this wasn’t their sort of place all around. Shrugs were all that were earned, that and packs of cigarettes placed to the table now that they knew they had a bit of free reign. Finding such bars were rare, would keep the business flowing so long as no one got all that vocal about it. Most around here could be trusted, the regulars, the quiet. The kind of people that weren’t looking to really start and shit up or fuck anyone over. Sure fights started up, happened with the liquor, but it was settled and a round of drinks was had. Simple. Easy. Was how Bastian sought to keep it. How long that really lasted with his past and everything though…he wasn’t sure. He just knew the old man needed some calm back in his life. That stress…it was starting to show.

“No problem.” Bastian returned before the group to the back broke in to gain some attention. The bar was at times lively, filled with those just looking to find some easy going time. But generally it was filled with the older spirits of those just looking for a break after their long day. The quiet kind that shout only for another drink and leave all others to their own thoughts. The sort of people that came up grabbing your shoulder and inquiring why you didn’t turn your frown upside down weren’t an often commodity here. Sometimes one would get chatty, needing to vent about the world. Bastian always listened, letting them say what they needed to say before they ordered another drink. No wild place filled with drunken frat boys or all that crazy of nights. A hole in the wall that made do and appeased the masses that came in. Whether they were smiling, frowning, or scowling at the world.

Bastian gave the group a nod and went around the bar, gathering up spent glasses before getting them more. A easy enough move, a few back and forth to get the group settled before things fell into that common quiet. Not a silence no, but that white noise. The murmur of voices, music, or sounds. Nothing really standing out from the rest, no one screaming to be heard above and beyond the others. It was a sort of quiet that Bastian had come to find some sort of peace in. Even if it wasn’t the same now. Not with his senses. He could hear every word. He could even hear the cat out back scratching at the door wanting to get in somewhere warmer. It gave him a headache at times still…how nothing seemed able to be tuned out. Louder and louder the more he longed for some fucking quiet.

“Supposed to be the normal time.” Bastian remarked with a wry smirk that said he didn’t much care about what was “supposed” to be around here. The bar always had stayed open so long as there was someone that needed the place. Eventually it would close, giving them time to get their own rest. But with the night now all Bastian had, the bar stayed open even later now. Gave Bastian an excuse to keep to himself, to try to figure things out. Gave him a place to try to set up meetings when those late hours got too late for the typical drinker. “But I tell people to linger as long as they need to. Least till the suns up.” Then the bar was closing, like it or not. Bastian wasn’t getting himself stuck here through the day.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

	twisted_tangle 2008-06-30 11:00 am UTC (link)
	((I can wrap this one and play them again at another time if you'd like?)) (Reply to this) (Parent)