Black Ghost Runner (11 page)

The bar sweeps were wiping tables, picking up chairs and scattering new straw on the floor. The waitresses were counting their tips. The ones who would help out were lining up the last of the mismatched cups and glasses. The whores were in back, taking showers in the tepid water, two women with one young man, all tired, but with money to share with the boss. They, like the waitresses, were allowed to keep their tips. The funds they shared with the bar were kept by the barkeep. She tallied the income of each, making sure the shares were equal and fair. In the year she had been running the bar, there had been no complaints of the shares.

In fact, there were only two complaints. One was from the fighting drunks thrown from the bar. The other was that she was never available, no matter who offered or how much was on the table.

Brandy locked up the final drawers in front. She took the small strongbox back to the tiny office nestled by the public toilet. The dressing room for everyone else was also in this area. The box went into the floor in the fireproof safe, the only modern, hundred-percent clean place in the entire building.

Tim, the bouncer, was the last one left, as he always waited for her. He walked her out to her old beat up little bus. There had been a big joke over hiring a bouncer with an even bigger bouncer when she brought in Tim.

The owner of the bar was a man by the name of Carl Giacco. Even though it was in Santiago, Mexico, Carl’s Italian name was actually from New York. He was fat, that rare breed who would chop your fingers off for stealing from him, but sloppy loyal if you were honest with him. Carl would rather be out at the reservoir at Presa Rodrigo Gomez, sucking on beers, hoping no fish took his bait.

His last bouncer had cost him a lot of money with the local Policia because he did too much damage to individuals. The bouncer before that one had gotten shot dead on the job. When she brought in Tim, Carl couldn’t stop laughing. Tim was a skinny six-foot tall guy that looked like he needed help standing. Tall and skinny did not mean basketball type. Tim knew the moves, the pressure points, the stiff fingers, the bony elbow in the right place that left a two hundred fifty pound wrestler struggling to get air. Before all of that, there was the talk about the boyish charm. He turned out to be the best bouncer Carl ever saw. Like her, Tim spoke Spanish fluently. Brandy had been able to expand her high school Spanish to something the locals really understood. She had never had any trouble understanding the language.

Carl acted as if he had adopted Brandy. Between Brandy and Tim, Carl could load up his beer, his tackle, including a couple of friends. Then he was away from the NoName Bar for weeks, just meeting with her whenever he felt like it. Brandy didn’t understand Carl’s fascination with the area he escaped to, as he seldom brought back fish. The area was a change from the dry deserts of Mexico to a deep moist jungle of old. Here, the traces of ancient sites were hidden among the vines. Too small, too hard to get to, it didn’t draw the treasure hunters or the history buffs.

Animals thrived along with birds, snakes, turtles, and, oh yes, don’t forget the bugs. There were too many living things with too many legs in the semi dark of the heavy foliage to suit Brandy. Clouds dumped rain caught by the high peaks surrounding the distant ridges that were on one side of the mountains away from the deserts. She didn’t like it, but had only had to meet Carl twice out there. He had understood, so he usually came to the bar’s office from that time onward. The road to the reservoir was fairly passable for interior Mexico’s standards. The unpaved sections that led into the forest were often un-passable, not that she wanted to go into a place where the mosquitoes were bigger than the multitude of frogs.

Brandy preferred the dry heat of Santiago, even though she had no AC in her little room that Carl provided. She did get some breeze, since it was on top of the storage warehouse, accessed only by a stairway that was partially enclosed. The steps ran up the side of the adobe building. It had a solid door locked at the bottom of the steps. At the top, the cover broke away to allow entry to the open flat roof that held old pallets and discarded boxes. The apartment had a decent bathroomwith only a small shower. If she took the time, she would lock and close all windows. Most of the time, they were open to allow the hot air that blew over the roofs and the slow fan to give her relief from the heat of the day. This was the time when she slept, since she worked all night.

As the cooler air of evening moved the mismatched curtains in her one room, she woke to start to get ready for the night ahead of her in the bar. It had become routine—a shower, time to braid her long hair, then pick out a cool native blouse to wear loose over the khakis with the multiple pockets down the legs. These she rolled up to the knees. Brandy slipped on the pair of Huaraches that she’d worn until they were comfortable. The leather had become so shabby, they didn’t make any sounds as she moved. She did one other thing—she wrapped her breasts in long linen strips, not to hide them, but because she was down to only one decent bra. She didn’t want the advances she would draw, going free under the soft blouse.

So, this was the life of Brandy. This was the way Beth had found to hide from the Black Ghost chased by a crazy millionaire.

It was out to the old bus, then across to the edge of town, where the bar with the peeling sign waited. Carl told her once that the old peeling sign was why he called it the NoName Bar. The sign was so old, the colors faded. At the top, one could see an
N
and at the end, one could barely read the word bar in small letters. Carl chose not to spend any money to paint the sign, so he just told people the sign read NoName Bar. Who knew, he might have been right. Then again, what about the fact that the
N
could have been the last owner’s name? Carl only smiled. No one could prove him wrong, as no one could remember what was painted on the sign originally.

The night was like the last couple hundred that she had become use to. Food was brought in from the outside kitchen, mostly free to keep the bellies of the drunks full. There was less trouble that way. Some old man with a guitar began to sing for tips, sitting in the corner. He had been showing up a lot lately. It wasn’t crowded, so the whores weren’t getting much of a work out, especially Madrill, the young male.

Madrill had a special set of clients. He was a beautiful young man, with dark eyes surrounded by long lashes, a firm chin that still said male. Many of the Mexicans had a strong double standard about their lives, here in the deep part of the country. Men were not supposed to like to fuck men. Women were not supposed to want to hire male whores. Fortunately for Madrill, standards were meant to be broken, on both sides. Most of the time, his clients were quiet, unless they were too drunk or it was a dare. At those times, Tim might step in…or not.

The whores were paid for at the bar, up front. Most of the time they didn’t even have to undress, but just lean over a table in back, lift their skirts, then brag about how big each
hombre
was,
el mucho
. They learned early to say this in a believable way repeatedly in order to earn tips. Of course, sometimes, it wasn’t even necessary to lift a skirt. Just stoop over, or better yet, wipe it off with one of the rags before they sucked on it. It seemed Mexican wives very seldom went down on their men, so this was fairly safe for the whores, quick easy money.

One of the regulars, laid the correct amount on the bar, nodded at her first, then at one of the whores, a big smile on his face and his eyebrows raised. This was the normal wishful attempt by the locals to get into her pants, knowing that the answer was always
N
o. When she had first started working the bar for Carl, it had kept both Carl and the bouncer he had then way too busy making the men understand that Brandy was not part of the products available at the NoName Bar. Brandy looked up with a smile and nodded
No
at the man, who nodded an
Okay
at Tim. Taking the change, she continued to wipe the wood. There was the soft click of a coin further down on the bar. It was the dark young woman along with her companion. They had come in earlier, ordered drinks and settled down to watch the locals. They were unknown. Everyone was surreptitiously watching them.

The man was big, like a lumberjack or someone who worked with his hands in heavy equipment. The woman was tall and looked like she could handle herself. He had a Boonie hat in dark military green, allowing the floppy wide brim to hang low, hiding his face. They both had on long dark colored ponchos, wearing them the right way with the points in front. Everything, including their legs, looked worn and was covered in dust. From the rumors, they had walked into town. If they had a vehicle, it was hidden somewhere out in the weeds.

They had devoured a lot of free food, drinking a little, paying as they went, so when she heard the click of coin on the bar, she grabbed a bottle of the good stuff and went to them. The woman covered her glass with her hand. They had paid for the better stuff instead of the local homemade alky that was cheap. Usually the cheap stuff was the choice of most of the clients of the NoName Bar.

Brandy set the bottle down then leaned against the back counter. Keeping in style she spoke in Spanish. “What can I do for ya’?”

The woman, also speaking in native Spanish, nodded down towards Madrill. “Your boy, what’s the price for a double?”

Brandy looked at the two. Something seemed out of sync here. These two could do each other until the sun came up—why did they want someone else who had been passed around? She looked over at Madrill, who was suddenly all Peacock. These two were way above the usual body odor that got stuck into his mouth. She got the message from him, yet she was still uncomfortable.

“Okay.” She quoted the price for a half hour in one of the back rooms. “But, I want my bouncer to be outside the door. Last time we had a twosome, my girl had some real problems.”

They agreed, and Madrill led the parade. Brandy put the money in the correct pocket.

She served two more locals, then a half hour later, the twosome came out.

A moment later, Tim came out to whisper in her ear.

“It’s going to be a while before Madrill comes out. He is fine, but has a smile that will take a month of rainy days to rub off. They did him right, tip also.” She nodded at Tim, picking up the good stuff with two new clean glasses. She went back over to the woman.

“Your boy is good, too good for this place. Let him earn enough to get away.” The woman dropped a coin on the wood, so Brandy poured. She was pouring the second glass, about to answer when the woman went on. “So, you are the one who tamed the Alpha. Wondered if anyone would ever crack Noble’s black heart.” This was said in English.

Brandy knew her heart was not beating. Fortunately, she tipped the JD back before overfilling the second glass. She stepped away from the two. She was glad the back counter was so close, to have something to hold her up.

She looked down to mask her eyes, so the panic couldn’t be read. “Unlike American bars, conversation with the bartender is not on the menu here. Anything else?” She slowly started away, mentally going over her personal supplies, backpack, cash, VW bus, adequate food, and some fresh water.
Oh, don’t forget the small thirty-eight pistol
. God, she hated leaving this place, especially Carl. She had been able to stay here longer than anywhere since she had been running from the Black Ghost or anyone who was hunting him.

Brandy felt their eyes on her, but didn't say anything else. She poured out of a local jug for another slouched patron, watching out of the corner of her eye as they turned away from the bar to slowly leave. She nodded as Madrill finally came out from the open archway to the back. He didn’t look like he had been working the flesh, but rather, like he’d been on a ten day vacation.

Brandy ran the bar for the rest of the night, as usual. There were fewer than usual patrons, so she let the whores go early, especially Madrill, who wouldn’t quit smiling. She told Tim to handle the last people cleaning up as she went into the little office.

There, she pulled out a half dozen small envelopes, the only ones Carl kept available. She started out putting Carl’s name on one, then put a short note inside.

Sorry, I would not leave if it were not life or death. Love, Brandy

Next, she divided the money, even though it was not payday. She addressed each envelope, put the right amount of cash inside, and sealed each carefully. She stacked the envelopes with Tim’s on top. There was a note with instructions for Tim to contact Carl immediately, along with his cash.

She calmly closed the office door behind her. If she didn’t come in tomorrow evening, Tim would check the office first. She went out, held up her end of closing as usual, then let Tim walk her to the beat-up bus. She drove a block away and turned a corner so Tim couldn’t see her. She pulled over to sit for a moment. The big decision was whether to go back to the apartment or not. No decision made.

However, before she could pull back out a large figure stepped out in front of the bus—the
big guy
who had two-teamed Madrill. Now, where was the woman? The answer came fast as the passenger door opened. At least she didn’t enter.

“Hey, sorry. We didn’t mean to frighten you. We wanted to just let you know that there was protection for you in the area.” Her voice was low so it wouldn’t carry in the dark morning. Her face was hidden in the darkness. There wasn’t enough light from the dashboard to reflect anywhere except her enigmatic eyes.

Brandy swallowed, but everything was dry. “I don’t want protection. I want to be left alone.”

The woman shifted slightly, looking at the
big guy
in the headlights. “Well, we wanted to let you know that you are being looked after. Right now there is no threat in the area, so see…” the woman waved her arms, “You don’t have to leave yet.”

Brandy took a deep breath, feeling her sweaty hands slide on the wheel she was hanging onto with all her strength. “I was doing fine on my own. Why would I want to stay?”