Chapter Six: Wind Change
THEY stepped into the cool evening, walking through the small industrial area in one of Half Moon Bay’s neighboring cities. Daniel's workspace had been loaned to him after he’d left the security job at Dane’s club. It had been a stepping stone in his path to recovery from his military service, an intermediate resting place while he mentally recuperated. Eventually Daniel had felt bored and frustrated, finding the job wasn’t meeting his growing sense of restlessness as he began thinking about his future. By the time he had left, they had struck up an unexpected friendship, making Dane’s offer of the storage space as an art studio more natural than Daniel would have anticipated. Dane had originally been using it as a storage space for his club, but increasingly was using it as a dumping ground for all the left over junk from the club’s construction and subsequent renovations. The original terms of the lease had included cleaning out all of the junk and separating out the things that might actually have use or value, a project Dane had expected to occupy Daniel for several weeks. He had been genuinely surprised when Daniel had finished clearing out and outfitting the space in a little more than a week.
The Cobra Room, the club Dane had opened using his father’s money and Dane’s own Yale MBA was only a couple of blocks from the storage space (in truth, the Cobra Room was little more than a dressed up storage space itself). Dane had made it a habit to check for Daniel's light green Ford every time he arrived at the club and, if time allowed, often stopped by to socialize. It had become a habit they both looked forward to as a means of breaking up the day (though it usually heralded the end of Daniel's work day and the beginning of Dane’s).
They walked the quarter mile, Daniel's leg complaining very slightly from the exercise. His physical therapist would probably be pleased, he thought, when she found out that he was at least nominally trying to follow her recovery plan. It had been a long time, but he was finally feeling as though his leg was approaching full strength.
Bullets do messed up things to flesh, he reflected, feeling the faint ache in his calf.
“What are you grinning about?”
Daniel looked up, momentarily nonplussed as he realized Dane had been studying him during his silence. He shook his head, his grin turning into a chuckle, “I was just remembering something the PT specialist -- Rebecca -- said last week.”
Dane frowned thoughtfully, “Rebecca? The Latina? You think you might date her?”
Daniel shook his head, “Probably not. We started to get close, but kind of called it quits last week. I’m still seeing her to help with my leg, though; she’s good at what she does.”
Dane chuckled, but to Daniel's relief, declined further comment.
They paused at the intersection before crossing into the club’s parking lot. The Cobra Room was a small club, closely modeled after the Viper Room in Los Angeles; it was, quite literally, a single rectangular room with a stage in the middle of one of the short walls. Daniel reflected that, if the club looked as though it was a couple of storage spaces joined together and repurposed as a bar/nightclub, well...that’s what it was. The parking lot was only half full, but once the live music started, it tended to get busy, crushingly so if Don (the club manager Dane had managed to import from San Diego) booked a particularly good band.
As they approached the main entrance, Daniel paused to greet Dominique. Dom was the bouncer Dane had hired to replace Daniel. He was only an inch or so shorter than Daniel's 5’11”, but he had the physique of a professional weight-lifter, filling out the club's black security t-shirt. Daniel knew Dom was trying to break into the professional MMA circuit, but was still struggling to get his big break. Dom was comfortably settled at his post at the head of a long empty velvet rope line stretching along the club’s wall.
Dom grinned in greeting as he caught sight of Daniel, his teeth contrasting with his dark skin, “Daniel -- what’s going on?”
Daniel grinned back as they shook hands then bumped fists, “Nothing man, just thought I’d come back and see what I was missing.”
Dom smirked, “No doubt, no doubt. It’s quiet, yet. How’s,” he hesitated, “Carmen? Darla?”
Daniel suppressed a sigh as he shook his head, “Carla. I guess we sort of decided we weren’t as mutually messed up as we used to be and there wasn’t any point to continuing.”
Dom nodded sagely, “That’s...sounds about right.”
Daniel laughed as he stepped past Dom, “I’ve been hearing that a lot.”
Dom shrugged sympathetically, “I know you guys were tight. Gimme a call, man -- we’ll do a workout or something.”
Daniel chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder, “You bet, Dom!”
Dom laughed as he turned back to his duties. Daniel suspected sparring with Dom probably wouldn’t end well for himself, but he didn’t mind getting schooled on the mat if he learned something as a result. He could use the exercise and he’d found Dom was a good training partner who clearly understood the difference between training and competing. Besides...Daniel wasn’t totally unskilled, and he suspected he could make it challenging for both of them. Somewhat challenging, at least.
He passed through the entrance of the club, quickening his pace to catch up to Dane. The inside was mostly painted black with green and blue points of laser light tracking across the ceiling as canned music poured through the club’s speakers, filling the space. The stage was still empty, but he could see the opening band just arriving and starting to set up. It wasn’t very busy yet, but Daniel noted the extra security and the bartender manning the second bar; Don (short for Donald, he added mentally -- a habit he’d picked up after confusing Dom and Don to Shelly’s enormous amusement over Midnight Margaritas at Dane’s home) -- Don must have gotten a good act.
As his eyes swept the bar, he paused as he recognized Tommy -- one of his oldest friends. Tommy had moved in just down the street from Daniel a little more than a decade ago (three years before Nicolette left). He winced at the thought; seven years gone and he still made the calculation automatically from the day she’d left. He felt a moment of helpless anger and disappointment, but quickly quashed the line of thought. It was over. He had moved on.
He felt a moment of grim satisfaction at the speed with which he quashed the thought.
He tapped Dane on the shoulder to get his attention then nodded toward the bar as he changed direction to settle next to Tommy.
Dane grinned, exclaiming, “I found him!” which brought an answering grin from Tommy
“Yo Tommy -- what’s the word, buddy?”
Tommy grinned then shrugged, adding a grunt for emphasis before half turning to the bartender. He tapped the bar with his index and middle finger. The bartender, halfway across the bar looked up and nodded in response. Daniel could never figure out how he did that, how such a physically unassuming man could command attention like that, like flipping a switch on and off again. Daniel studied Tommy out of the corner of his eye, taking in his slightly above average height, wild spiky black hair, and slight frame topped by a bright red baseball cap with a white embroidered eagle. He was rarely without his ball cap, sometimes leading Daniel to wonder in his more absurd moments of fancy if that hat was actually part of his head. Daniel exchanged a friendly smile with the bartender, a statuesque blonde named Jillian, as she returned with a whiskey for Daniel and a Guinness for Tommy -- though he noted Jillian hadn’t brought anything for Dane. So Dane anticipated a busy night.
“Sorry about Carla, Daniel -- that’s a tough break!”
He looked up in surprise, meeting Jillian’s sympathetic gaze, “Yeah. It’s not that bad -- it was just time, you know?”
She nodded in sympathy, absently patting his arm as her attention was called elsewhere.
Daniel glanced around the club, taking in the sparse crowd before turning toward Dane, “Where’s Shelly? You said she was here tonight?”
Dane nodded, “Yeah -- she has some things to take care of, so she dropped me off. We’ll probab
ly head out for dinner later, once it looks like things are rolling along.” His gaze flicked back and forth between Daniel and Tommy, “You guys are welcome to join us -- though you’ll have to take your own cars there.”
Daniel felt his eyebrows rising in surprise, “She’s driving the T?”
Dane laughed, “She loves driving that thing. Go figure.”
“What’s not to like about driving a two hundred thousand dollar car to pick up groceries from the Safeway?”
“She’s a better driver than me -- especially when she’s driving it.”
Tommy cocked his head to the side as he favored Dane with a skeptical frown.
“Bite me, T, it also happens to be true!” He nodded toward Daniel, “I have to check in with Don -- but when Shells gets back, we can head out.”
Dane caught Jillian’s eye, then nodded meaningfully toward Tommy and Daniel. She raised her hand in acknowledgment, leading Tommy and Daniel to exchange a grin: free drinks!
“What do you think?”
Tommy shrugged then added reluctantly, “S’Dane’s Ferrari,” implying that he could do whatever crazy thing he wanted with it.
Daniel nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah.”
An hour later, Daniel was slightly buzzed, listening to ‘Atrium’, a band that was a strange cross between Morcheeba and Muse. He was ambivalent to their music, but the crowd seemed enthusiastic -- it had filled out considerably since Dane left. He sat with his back to the bar, taking in the scene, tracking the ebb and flow of the crowd. He frowned as his sense of combined dread and anticipation returned, causing him to scan the crowd again. He had hoped it was just his Gremlins -- a term coined by one of his ex-squadmates to describe the aftereffects of prolonged combat: PTSD, basically. Daniel knew he’d brought back a barrelful of them from Afghanistan, but nevertheless considered himself lucky; he’d met a couple of guys that had brought back full-on Werewolves, one of whom had added a monkey to his retinue of troubles in the hope the monkey would take up more space than his other passengers. It didn’t seem to have helped him very much.
He was restless. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was waiting for something, for some existential change to facilitate ... whatever it was he intuitively sensed coming. He had hoped the alcohol and activity in the club would distract him, allowing the feeling to fade once his attention was elsewhere. Early on it had, but his prolonged inactivity was starting to wear on him. He jumped as Jillian tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned, smiling quizzically, meeting her apologetic gaze.
She leaned forward, raising her voice to be heard over the music, almost shouting in his ear, “Hey, Casanova! Feel up to some charity work?”
He half turned so he could see her eyes, wondering if she was making fun of him. She was grinning, her lip gloss very red against her pale skin even in the relative darkness of the club, but he saw something in her expression that wasn’t joking. He leaned forward, “I’m up for some pro bono work! What’s going on?”
She nodded toward the end of the bar, “Kayla -- down by the end! With the guy wearing all the bling!”
Daniel leaned around the crowd, scanning the other patrons until his eyes fell on a girl sitting at the far end of the bar. Sitting next to her was a man with dark, slicked-back hair, his half open shirt revealing a heavy gold chain. He spoke animatedly with a pretty woman in a tight green dress and low heels, his rings sparkling with his movements. Her body language radiated discomfort as she smiled politely, nodding whenever he paused to emphasize a point. She unconsciously leaned away when he leaned closer to make himself heard over the music. Daniel studied them a moment, instantly disliking the tableau. She seemed out of place, her clothes more suited to a formal dinner party than a club like the Cobra Room when they had live music. It seemed unfair to him that this guy -- clearly someone far more experienced with the club scene -- would take advantage of her inexperience.
He turned to Jillian, annoyed that she wouldn’t just call security, but her hopeful expression brought him up short. He realized she was worried that calling security might be an overreaction; if she started asking security to throw out people that weren’t actually causing trouble she could find herself without a job. Of course, Daniel suspected Dane would likely shrug it off, preferring to trust his employees’ judgement, but Jillian didn’t know Dane as well as Daniel did and wasn’t willing to take the risk. He sighed, then nodded, smiling in response as she broke into a relieved grin. He pushed off the stool, heading over to the end of the bar. When he sidled up to Kayla and Bling, they both looked up in surprise as he bellowed, “Kaye! We’ve been looking for you!”
He nodded meaningfully toward the bartender, “Jillian told me where to find you!”
The girl jumped off the stool, swaying slightly. Bling’s hand slid off her knee as she stood. Her expression flooded with gratitude and relief, “Finally!” she exclaimed, falling immediately into her role.
She’s quick, this one, he thought with amusement, despite being more than a little drunk.
Bling started to stand as well, annoyance painting his features, but his eyes flicked to Daniel's right. He hesitated, then immediately settled back onto his barstool and spun around, hunching down over his drink.
Ah...Tommy must have followed me.
Sometimes Tommy had that effect on people.
He stepped back, motioning for Kayla to precede him. Tommy fell into step behind them, pausing to grin at Bling’s back. Daniel was relieved when Bling hunched further into his drink, choosing to let them go.
Daniel was surprised to find their empty seats waiting for them, along with a fresh drink on the bar.
He turned to Kayla, a medium height brown haired woman he estimated to be close to his own age. He offered his seat to her, then asked (well, bellowed really) “Where are your people?”
She shook her head, chagrin filling her expression, “No idea! They were supposed to be here almost an hour ago!”
He nodded, “You’re welcome to hang with us while you wait...”
She nodded vigorously, then laughed when Jillian brought her a drink to replace the one she’d abandoned, “You guys are my newest besties!”
His smile faltered as memories of another rescue came to mind, her words eerily similar to something Shelly had once said. He mused briefly how life sometimes seemed to move in circles, sometimes presenting you with choices along the way to reaffirm or repudiate earlier decisions. He felt a brief rush of gratitude as he realized a part of himself that he thought might have been lost in Afghanistan was still there, driving his decisions. He let out a long breath as he realized he still couldn’t stand to see people bullied or victimized, that he was still willing to involve himself, even if it meant risking confrontation. He sipped his drink, his musings momentarily forgotten as he realized Jillian had replaced his original shot of affordable whiskey with something from the top shelf.
He looked up in surprise, finding Jillian watching him, a small secretive smile crossing her lips. As their eyes met, she winked at him then silently mouthed Thank you!
He smiled back, raising his glass to her, listening to Kayla explaining excitedly about her teaching job and how that had led to her waiting for her friends in the Cobra Room.
He was leaning against the bar, desultorily listening to the music when his restlessness abruptly became unbearable. He had stopped drinking some time ago, letting his buzz fade away while he waited. The smell of the club -- myriad colognes and perfumes, the smell of the smoke from the atmospheric smoke machines, spilled beer, too many bodies packed into a such tight, warm space -- suddenly made him claustrophobic and desperate to move. He had Kayla’s number, but he doubted he’d follow up -- under the circumstances it felt too much like taking advantage of her. Her friends had long since come, but he had politely refused Kayla’s offer to join forces with them; he’d have felt like an intruder in their good time. Her friends had echoed Kayla’s gratitude, but had happily faded into the crowd.
&nbs
p; He turned toward Tommy, surprised to find his friend watching him, eyes bright with curiosity. He jerked his head toward the back of the club; Tommy answered with an indifferent shrug. Daniel paused long enough to pull a twenty out of his wallet and place it atop Tommy’s as he signaled Jillian they were leaving. When he finally caught her eye, she smiled gratefully and waved, clearly pleased at the tip. He briefly considered chatting her up in the future, but rejected the idea; he liked the Cobra Room and had found few things ruined a good watering hole like having romantic history with the staff.
He pushed off the bar, skirting the crowd, wincing as the music suddenly began venturing into dubstep territory with persistent head-splitting bass.
Just in time, he thought ruefully as they reached the side exit. The cold air blew the cobwebs in his mind away, bringing clarity and relief from the crowded, claustrophobic interior of the club.
Tommy frowned thoughtfully as they let the door swing closed behind them. As they reached the far end of the parking lot, he raised his heavy black eyebrows.
“Let’s do Harry’s,” he suggested.
Daniel shrugged; the food was decent if a little pricey. He would have preferred the Fishtrap place, but he supposed a little variety wasn’t unwelcome.
They waited in amicable silence for a time, breathing in the sea-salt air, listening to the indistinct thump and rattle of the bass through the sound-proofed walls of the club. Daniel still felt cotton-headed, but the intermittent breeze coming in from the sea had largely eliminated his nausea. He pulled his phone from a jacket pocket and texted Dane, T and I bailed -- still want to do dinner? H’s okay?
He waited, still feeling listless and impatient, listening to the muffled bass coming from the club as it changed timbre several times. The sky had fogged over, creating a low lying grey blanket with strange orange highlights where the city lights illuminated the underside of the clouds.
He jumped as his phone vibrated, Definitely, Dane responded. Shells is on the way. Wait 5, and we can all go. S likes Harry’s.
Tommy was facing the ocean, his head cocked to the side, reminding Daniel of the RCA dog, listening. Something about his posture spoke of anticipation and wariness.
“T -- you feel it, too?”
Tommy turned, eyeing Daniel consideringly before looking back toward the black line of the ocean. He nodded slowly, his voice thoughtful, “Yeahhh.”