Blog #3 - Jeff Clare

With shaking hands, Nik poured himself a drink. He didn’t usually drink at work, but today had been exhausting and he was sure Leit wouldn’t mind. It was only six hours into his shift, but Nik felt drained. All day, vendors had been pouring into the bar. They all carried oddly-shaped packages. When Nik had tried to sign for them, the vendors all refused, quite rudely, and demanded to see Leit.

Grateful that the commotion was over, Nik drained his glass and got back to work serving the day-drinkers. A few minutes later, he saw Leit exit the building with a guitar on his back, only to sprint back in fifteen minutes later without the guitar. Nik watched Leit closely. He knew lots of secrets, but had never managed to figure out what it is Leit was hiding. The loud, gruff voice of Jeff Clare interrupted his thoughts and Nik winced.

“Nikky, how ‘bout another whiskey o’er here? C’mon boy. I ‘aven’t got all day, ya know!”

This was not true, as Jeff literally did have all day. He was there everyday, drinking from open until close. Nik hated Jeff with every fiber of his being. Jeff was loud, disrespectful, always angry and loved to bully Nik. His only somewhat-redeeming quality was that he was a drunkard, meaning that he blew thousands of dollars at the bar each year.

Nik slowly poured a glass of whiskey, making sure it wasn’t “under-filled”, as that would lead to Jeff flinging the glass at his head. He brought it to Jeff’s table and set it down.

“Finally, Nikky. It took ya long enough,” Jeff said, smirking.

“Well, sorry about the wait Jeff,” Nik muttered, looking down. Jeff’s eyes bore into him, as he took a sip of his drink.

“Say, Nikky. How’s your family doing, they alright?” Nik glanced up sharply.

“They’re fine.”

“Really? That’s not how I would describe them.”  He grinned crookedly, his sharp teeth on display.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re talking about?” Nik snapped. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, threatening to burst out of his chest. Jeff’s face became impassive.

“Go away Nikky. I’m tryin’ to drink.”

Nik scowled at him, furious at Jeff’s childish games. He stormed away and tried to forget Jeff’s words, but they plagued his mind throughout the rest of his shift.

Blog #2 - The Call

Nik shuffled through the throngs of people, all waiting to buy tickets for Conrad’s show. Their enthusiasm annoyed him. He had bought the cheapest ticket, in the nosebleeds. As a child, he adored Conrad’s folk songs. They always made him feel hopeful. When he would put on one of the songs, he got lost in Conrad’s deep voice, forgetting about his family.

The nostalgia Conrad’s songs evoked was the only reason Nik was spending his hard-earned money on a concert. Growing up poor, Nik was reluctant to spend money on concerts.  Just this once, he had promised himself.

As Nik climbed the stairs to his apartment, he stumbled into the plaster wall. He had worked too much lately and it was starting to show. Nik entered his apartment and threw his leather jacket on an armchair. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He splashed water on his face until he felt alive again. He looked into the mirror he had broken when he first moved in. A never-ending barrage of phone calls had set him off. They say breaking a mirror gives you seven years of bad luck. That proved true for Nik. He looked at himself. His dark blue eyes were glassy. His light brown hair was plastered to his face from the water. He sighed.

The phone ringing shook Nik from his daze. Considering he never got calls, he first checked the caller ID. It was exactly who he’d thought would be calling. Nik ground his teeth and turned away. He balled his hands, trembling slightly. Of course this had to happen on the day of

Conrad’s concert. This was more evidence that God had it out for him. He couldn’t have one happy day. Nik screamed, punching the pillow on the armchair. But his outrage was soon tempered when his hacking cough started up again. The phone stopped ringing, only to start back a few seconds later. By the third time the phone rang, Nik had had enough. He yanked the phone off of the receiver.

“I used to crave your attention but not anymore. Because something has been happening as of late and I realized that you’ll never want me and I am better off without you!” Nik slammed the phone down. With shaking hands, he lit a cigarette. Smoking calmed him and Nik was able to enjoy the concert.

Blog #1 - Godless and Sleepless

The day started with a crack of thunder. The noise woke Nik, who had fallen asleep on his squashy, crimson armchair with an unlit cigarette in his hand. Nik sighed when he noticed that the chair was wet from the leaking window and that the water stains on the ceiling had crept further from the corners.

Since graduating high school six years ago, Nik had lived in the same room in The Maitland, where he fell asleep each night listening to his clock radio and smoking a cigarette. Since the age of twenty-one, he had been working at The "Platinum Time" Bar as a bartender, watching the regular drunks waste their days away. He preferred observing the tourists, with their backwards baseball caps and hideous sandals, who had, for some reason, decided to visit this god-forsaken town.

Heading to work early was the only option, as falling asleep again was unlikely to happen. Nik pulled on his black jeans, T-shirt and boots and grabbed his leather jacket from the floor. He paused as he glimpsed his pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. He had been trying to quit for years, but it seemed hopeless. Anyway, he supposed that there were worse vices than smoking. With that, he snatched the whole pack.

As he left the building, Nik briefly noted the police cars pulling into the parking deck. He shook his head, unsurprised. He reckoned that God had abandoned the town, just as He had abandoned him. As he headed to the bar, he nodded at Lamar, the old, retired cop, and waved to Matt, the mailman. Being a bartender, he knew everyone and their secrets because drunks talk. The nice thing was that he knew everyone’s skeletons but no one knew his. He could talk to people for ages without revealing anything.

At work, Nik spent the rest of the day making drinks and chatting with the patrons. It seemed that the mystery of Mr. Evans’ death was all that anyone wanted to talk about. He was sure that no one actually cared about the man, they were just caught up in the shock. Most people here seemed downright apathetic to the suffering of others. Coughing, Nik made his way home in the early morning of the next day. He fell asleep, in his bed this time, watching the sky change from black to coral, as the sun rose.