Devil’s Eye. It took him almost two hours, but he managed. It was a little after noon by the time he arrived and the place was packed. Dave was thankful for this—it would be easier for him to blend and disappear into the background. The beautiful thing about the bar was the people who frequented it. They were mostly outcasts and drunks themselves. Even after Dave’s horrendously scandalous week, no one in the joint seemed to judge him or care what happened. The regulars nodded the same as they always did, and Dave took his table in the back.
Not only was Ruth absent—J was nowhere to be seen, either. Dave experienced a sinking sensation at the possibility that some horror also consumed his new friend. Not even a week passed since the last time he’d come in—surely J was just drying out before tonight’s libations, or maybe Ruth got sick of giving him free drinks.
Dave craned his neck in search of someone to fill his order. But no one came. Maybe that was a sign, that he shouldn’t be drinking away his problems. But what other solution did he have? He at least hoped to get some advice from J, but it was clear now—he was going to weather this storm alone. Dave hated that fact. Hated the very idea of being stuck with himself, especially now.
So he sat, not drinking, not speaking, just staring off into space and trying to come up with any solution that might bring a modicum of solace or peace to his mind. The afternoon wore on and Dave lost track of time as the bar emptied, filled up again and emptied once more just before midnight.
The sound of two whiskeys hitting the table startled Dave from his stupor. Before he could blink, a woman he’d never seen before slid into the chair opposite him. Dave looked around, the bar was empty—they were alone.
She placed her arms on the table and leaned her face against the palms of her hands. Dave stared at her curiously—she must be the new bartender.
“Your order,” she raised her eyebrows and nodded her chin towards the whiskey.
“I don’t drink whiskey,” he intoned, wishing she would leave him in peace.
“I’ve been pouring it out for you steadily the last few weeks. I think I would know.”
Dave lifted his tired eyes at her somewhat aggressive tone. It was only then that he took a better look at her, “Do I know you?”
She smiled in response. She was attractive—there was no denying that. But there was something about the antagonism in her gaze that made him desirous to get as far away from her as possible.
“You used to drink beer. Then you added whiskey. The last few times you’ve come in, it’s been a lot more of the latter.”
“That’s for J, not me.”
“J?” she wondered, as she sat back in the chair and shot one of the two drinks. “Who is J?”
“If you’re so sure about what I drink, I imagine you would also know who I spend my time drinking with.”
“How interesting,” she mused with a hint of humor.
“Why is that interesting?”
“You drink by yourself.”
The conviction with which she spoke those words startled Dave. He paused, “No, I don’t. Not anymore.”
“I have never seen you here with another soul. You sit in this corner and babble away at the wall. That’s what you do.”
Dave considered Ruth’s behavior towards J, how she never once greeted him or acknowledged his presence...but that wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Dave was immediately consumed by the question of his own sanity.
He stood suddenly, done with this hypnotic witch, who was beginning to grate sorely on his nerves. “Really nice how you treat your customers,” he spat.
“You, Dave Collins, are not my customer.”
The way she said his name ran a particularly vicious chill down his spine. He felt himself sink back into the chair.
“Georgie left you, didn’t she?” she remarked offhandedly.
Dave felt his awareness heighten. “Who are you?” he whispered, tilting his head to better inspect her shadowed face.
The mystery woman leaned forward once more, her vivid green eyes penetrating every pore, every essence of his being—for the first time in his life Dave felt as if he were being stripped bare—it was the inexplicable feeling that this woman knew him better than he knew himself.
“It’s been a very long time, so let me refresh your memory. My name is Jane Havens and I am the return of the repressed.”