Brett Battles - The Pull of Gravity

“Hey,” he said. “Let me go. You don’t want trouble with me.”

I stopped him, then moved my face in as close as I could without actually touching his. “You’re right,” I said. “I don’t. But when assholes like you come in here, you don’t give me much of a choice. If I were you, I’d get out of town.”

One member of my Marine backup team moved past me and opened the front door. I guided the asshole the rest of the way there, then pushed him outside. The moment he was gone, a loud cheer went up in the bar.

“Thanks,” I said to the helpful Marine.

“Nothing to thank me for. That was all you.”

One of his friends said, “I think that calls for a bell ring.”

Together they walked over and gave the bell a whack. Another cheer went up, and what started out as a potentially nasty situation turned into another Lounge party.

I looked over to make sure Cathy and the other bartenders were on top of the bell ring. Cathy gave me the “everything’s fine” wave, freeing me up to go check on Isabel.

Her position hadn’t changed, but she was no longer alone. Rina, one of our waitresses, was sitting next to her, her arm around Isabel’s shoulder. I walked over and sat on the other side.

“Did he hurt you?” I said.

“She’s okay, boss,” Rina said. “No problems.”

Rina, who seldom worked on my shifts and didn’t know me that well, was trying to protect Isabel in case I thought she was the problem.

“It’s okay,” I said to Rina. I looked at Isabel again. Some of the anger had begun to leave her eyes, but it wasn’t completely gone. What surprised me was, there were no tears. “The guy was an asshole. I just want to make sure he didn’t hurt you.”

“Only a scratch,” she said.

Hesitantly, she moved the hand I thought had been holding up her bikini, revealing a small scratch just above her left collarbone. I looked around. Lamie, one of the other dancers, was standing nearby.

“Go get a wet napkin from Cathy,” I told her.

I turned back to Isabel. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“He keep trying to touch me,” she said. “In places I don’t want him to, di ba ? He said he bought me a drink, so it’s his right.”

“Did you tell him no?” I asked.

“Of course. Many times.” She paused. “When he try to pull off my top, that’s when I yell. I’m sorry, Papa. I know it’s my job, but I just didn’t like him.” A single tear escaped down her cheek, but, as far as I could remember, it was the only one all night.

Someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned, expecting to find Lamie with the napkin I’d asked for. Instead I found Larry standing there holding out a cup.

“Tea,” he said. “Maybe it will help.”

My thought was that tea was probably not strong enough, but Isabel reached forward and took the cup. “Thank you,” she told him.

“I’m sorry,” Larry said tentatively. “For what happened, I mean.”

Isabel shook her head. “It’s okay.” She took a sip of the tea.

“Do you want to go home?” I asked.

“No,” she said quickly. “I’ll be okay.”

“He was just a bad man,” Rina said. “He won’t come back.”

She patted Isabel on the shoulder, smiling reassuringly. Isabel’s own smile wasn’t as confident.

Lamie finally showed up with the napkin, and I let her clean Isabel’s scratch. Within ten minutes, the whole place seemed back to normal, Isabel included. Larry left not long after that, but he made a point to check on Isabel before saying goodbye.

He had told me earlier he was going to Manila on Sunday to avoid driving down on the same day he flew out. So when we shook hands, I was sure that would be the last time I saw Larry Adams.

I was wrong.

When I came into work that Sunday night, the second to last thing I expected was Isabel showing up. I had told her just before she went home the previous night that she should take Sunday off. She’d only been working at The Lounge for around five months at that point, and though she was good at getting guys to buy her lady drinks-drinks for the girls that they got a cut of-she had yet to go out on an EWR. I figured with the incident the night before, she could use a day off to think about things. I would have laid better than even odds she was going to quit altogether.

But Isabel showed up right on time, as if nothing had happened. I stopped her as she walked to the back to change, and asked if she was okay.

“Fine, Papa,” she said, smiling.

Thirty minutes later, Larry arrived. That was the last thing I expected. At that time on a Sunday night, he was the only customer in the place.

“I thought you left already,” I said as soon as I saw him.

“Decided to wait until tomorrow,” he said with no further explanation.

I had a few managerial items to take care of, so I left Larry at the bar and went to the small office in back. When I came back out twenty minutes later, Larry had moved. I looked around and spotted him sitting at the table in the back corner, talking with Isabel.

I got a beer from the bar, and started to head over to them.

“Wait,” Cathy said.

I stopped. “What?”

“Give them a little time alone.”

“Who? Larry and Isabel?”

She shook her head, an expression of disbelief on her face. “Sometimes, Doc, you stupid.”

I wasn’t so stupid that I didn’t understand what she meant. When I looked back at Larry and Isabel, instead of seeing two people sharing a friendly conversation, I saw a couple sitting a little closer together than mere friends would. I saw Isabel put her hand on Larry’s arm as she laughed, letting it linger there a moment, but always removing it. I saw Larry glance at her when she wasn’t looking at him, an unconscious smile on his face. More than anything, I saw two people who had stopped noticing there were other people around.

So instead of going over, I sat down on my stool.

“I didn’t see that coming,” I told Cathy.

“I already tell you. That’s because you stupid,” she said, then added, “sometimes.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“Bar is stocked. Everything ready. Larry is only customer.” She looked me in the eyes. “So no, I don’t have work to do.”

“Cathy, if you weren’t so damn cute, I’d fire you right now just because I could.”

“Good thing I’m cute then.”

“Yeah. Good thing.” I picked up my beer and swallowed what was left, then set the bottle back down. “I’ve got something for you to do. Get me another beer.”

She gave me an exaggerated smile before turning to the cooler to pull out a new bottle. A moment later, she set an open San Miguel in front of me.

“No Marzen left?” I asked.

“Plenty,” she answered, then walked to the far end of the bar.

That night was another example of something surprising happening after weeks of boring, interchangeable days. In truth, this new round of excitement started the night before with Mr. Comb-over attempting to force the issue with Isabel. But the next night, that Sunday, things escalated rapidly, so much faster than any of us ever realized. The biggest surprise of the evening happened around ten thirty.

The place was still fairly empty, probably no more than seven customers. Because of that, the energy level was pretty mellow. That was actually okay by me. We’d had a run of fairly intense nights, so a little ratcheting down would allow everyone to recharge a bit.

Cathy had decided at some point earlier to rejoin me, and we were sharing a couple of apple martinis she’d just recently learned how to make.

“Not bad,” I said, as I finished off the last of my drink.