***
Adam walked into Spades the following Friday night. It had been one week since he and Anna had walked through the door of the bar. Six days since she’d died. Three days since her funeral. One day since he’d stopped crying.
“Hey, buddy. What can I getcha?” the bartender asked.
“Something hard.” With a nod, the bartender walked away to fill Adam’s order, leaving him to look around the bar in search of the old drunk from the previous weekend.
“Here ya go,” the bartender said as he placed a glass in front of Adam.
“Thanks. Do you remember when I was in here last week?”
“Of course. It’s not every day somebody sits in Barnaby’s chair.”
“Yeah, about that. What the hell does it mean? There was an old man in here that night telling me that my girlfriend was going to die because she sat in that chair. I thought he was full of shit.” Adam trailed off, looking down at his hands wrapped tightly around the cool glass of liquor.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Was he full of shit?” Something in the bartender’s eyes said he already knew the answer to that question.
“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No. I mean, my girlfriend did die.” He nearly choked on the words.
“Sorry, man.”
“She died later that night, after we left here. I can’t help but think about what that old man said to me. Was he right? Did she die because she sat in that chair?”
The bartender only stared at him.
“I mean, she fell down the stairs and broke her neck. That has nothing to do with that chair, right?”
The bartender shrugged.
Growing agitated, Adam rose his voice and said, “Tell me that her death had nothing to do with sitting in that chair.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, all I know is that quite a few people have died after sitting in it. Now, whether or not that has anything to do with your girlfriend, I can’t say.” The man walked away, leaving Adam with far more questions than he’d come in with.
Frustrated, Adam downed the drink in one gulp, slapped some money on the bar, and turned to leave. That’s when he saw the drunk old man, the very one who had warned him of Anna’s death. He walked through the door and straight toward the bar, parking himself on a stool next to Adam and ordering a bourbon.
Adam sat down on the stool next to the old man and faced him. He waited a minute for the man to acknowledge him, but when he realized that wasn’t going to happen, he spoke.
“Do you remember me?”
Without looking his way, the man replied, “Of course I do. Your girlfriend sat in Barnaby’s chair. Tell me. How’s the ol’ gal fairing?”
“She died.”
The man glanced at Adam before turning his attention back to the bar in front of him. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I tried to tell you.”
“No, you spoke in riddles. I had no idea what you were talking about. I still don’t. All I know is that after we left here, we home and went to bed. I woke up the next morning to find my girlfriend dead at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Ah. A tumble down the stairs. Haven’t had one of those in a while.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand. What the hell happened to my girlfriend? What is it about that chair?”
The man took a drink of the bourbon as soon as the bartender set it in front of him. Then he turned to face Adam, giving him a chance to see his face for the first time. He had a bulbous nose with a red tip, the sure sign of a heavy drinker. His gums sprouted blackened teeth with gaps where other rotten teeth once stood. His lips were thin and cracked. There were deep lines growing from the outer corners of his dark eyes. It was the face of a man who’d seen a lot of things in his time.
“You ever hear of a man named Barnaby Black?”
Adam shook his head no. “Not until you mentioned him the other night.”
“He was a bad man. He robbed, raped, and murdered. Had a good run at it, too, before they caught him. Didn’t take long to find him guilty and sentence him to die. Before his execution, they gave him one last wish.” He took another drink of the liquor.
“What was his last wish?”
“He wanted a cold beer at his favorite bar.”
“Let me guess. This bar?”
The old man nodded. “You guessed it. They brought him in with shackles around his wrists and ankles. He sat down right over there.” He pointed at the chair in which Anna had sat. “He had a beer. Took his sweet time drinking it too. When he was done, he stood up and announced that anyone who ever sat in that chair would die. Then they took him away. He was executed the next day.”
“Were you here? I mean, it sounds like you were here when he was having his last beer.”
“I was.” The man nodded slowly. “I sure was. Seen him curse that chair with my own eyes.”
“Curse? You don’t really believe in that nonsense, do you?”
“You tell me. It’s your girlfriend that died after sitting in that chair. Do you believe in the curse?”
Adam swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.
“I thought so. Well as you can imagine, it wasn’t long after Barnaby cursed it until someone sat in that chair of his. This is a pretty busy place. People coming and going all the time. They’ve gotta sit somewhere.
“A man named Paul Peterson sat in that chair first. He had his fun and left. Died in a car wreck on the way home.”
“That could’ve been a coincidence.”
“Could’ve been,” the man agreed with a nod. “Then a guy known as Cletus sat in it. He fell off a ladder and died at work the next day. After that, a man—I can’t remember his name—sat in it and had a tree fall on his house that night while he slept. Landed right on the bedroom, killing him dead. Still think it’s a coincidence?”
Without conviction, Adam said, “It could be.”
“It could be,” the old man repeated before finishing his drink and ordering another. “It’s funny that you don’t believe in curses, but you sure believe in coincidences.”
Adam said nothing.
“Since the night ol’ Barnaby Black cursed that chair, there have been forty-eight people die after sitting in it. Right after. And that’s just forty-eight people that I know of. I’m sure there’ve been more.
“Once folks realized it was cursed, it became sort of a game. People daring others to sit in it and the like. I’ve told ‘em time and time again to get rid of the damn thing, to put it up where no one can sit in it. They don’t listen. That’s part of what brings in their business, you see. They won’t get rid of anything that brings in customers. That’s why that damned pool table’s still here. It’s uneven as hell and the felt is torn, but they keep it because it’s the only place for fifty miles that a feller can shoot pool if he has the urge.”
Adam glanced over at the pool table, where two men were shooting a game while three others watched. He then looked back at the old man, who was downing his glass of bourbon.
“So you’re saying that anyone who has sat in that chair since Barnaby cursed it is dead.”
The old man nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. Because that’s the truth.” He pointed a crooked finger at Adam as he spoke.
“Why haven’t you destroyed it? If you know it’s true, if you know that anyone who ever sits in it is doomed to die, then why haven’t you smashed it to bits or burned it?”
“First of all, it ain’t mine to break. If I was to come in here and try to destroy the damn thing, I could be arrested.” The old man leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Besides, I did try. One time, I was here in by myself. It was the middle of a work day and no one else was in here at the time. The bartender went to fetch something from the store room. I saw my opportunity, and I took it. I picked that chair up and slammed it down on the floor. I slammed it
so hard, it jarred my whole body. Would’ve shattered any other chair to bits. Didn’t do a damn thing to that one. So I slammed it again. And again. Nothing. Didn’t loosen a leg or anything.” He leaned back and ordered another drink.
“So you’re saying it’s indestructible.”
The old man nodded. “Seems that way.”
Adam looked from the drunk to the chair. He kept his thoughts to himself as he bid the guy farewell and left Spades.