Frankie helped me get the man we called Jack Daniels back inside the bar and I searched his pockets for some identification. I found his wallet but all it had was a great deal of money and a single picture of a beautiful blonde woman. There was nothing to indicate who he was.
“What do we do with him?” Frankie asked, looking down at the unconscious man.
“We make him a bed and let him sleep it off,” I answered, standing and heading towards the back where I knew we had a bed and some blankets.
“I’m not leaving him here alone, Busy. We don’t have any idea who he is,” Frankie argued as he followed me to the back.
“Which is why he’s got no where else to sleep but here. Don’t worry about it, Frankie. I’ll stay here with him. It won’t be the first time I crash in the back,” I answered,
There had been a number of nights when I had been to exhausted to drive home and had made my bed in the back room among the boxes and dust on the tiny cot that was back there.
I quickly pulled out some blankets and made the bed as Frankie continued to argue with me. Finally I stood to my full height of five feet five inches, planted my hands on my hips and looked up at Frankie.
“Have you looked at who you are arguing with?” I asked him.
He stood silent for a moment and looked at me then shook his head in defeat.
“All right. I can’t believe I’m going to let you do this,” he mumbled as we walked back out front.
“You aren’t letting me do anything, Frankie. I do want I want. Now help me get him to the bed,” I said, lifting the stranger who slept, unaware of what was going on around him.
We got him into the back and gently laid him down on the cot. I covered him and then walked Frankie to the door.
“Are you sure you really want to stay here alone with him?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl,” I assured the big burly man I loved with a smile.
“And what if he wakes up a raving lunatic with a hangover?”
“Frankie, go home to Maggie and the kids. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said gently pushing him out the door. I smiled at him through the dirty glass and locked the door.
I made the nightly rounds that included, closing the blinds, cleaning the tables, counting the money and restocking the shelves. There was no one for me to go home to and Frankie had a family of his own so I took care of most of the clean up. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning when I turned off the lights and headed back to the stranger who had stolen the cot I would have slept on.
I piled some blankets up in a corner and curled up to watch him.
I wondered what his story was. What was the pain that drove him here and drove him to drink till he slipped into a world without the pain. I still couldn’t tell much about him in the dark but I knew he was dark, possibly Latino with a little bit of facial hair. I lay in the dark staring at his still form wondering what his pain was until finally sleep took over my body and I drifted into my own world of dreams.
~~~~~~******~~~~~~
The thrashing and screaming tore me from my peaceful sleep and I woke up to see my stranger tossing and turning as he cried out in his tortured slumber. I crawled to him from my place in the floor and attempt to wake him.
“No,” he screamed out. “Please don’t leave me. Please. Don’t go. Don’t let me go. Please,” he begged of his dream.
“Hey. Hey, wake up,” I said, shaking him gently. He still thrashed about the bed as if in pain and finally I grabbed his shoulders and gave him a hard shake.
“No,” he screamed, sitting straight up.
“It’s all right. It was only a dream,” I tried to reassure him.
He jerked away from me and looked around the darkened stock room.
“Where am I?” he demanded.
“In the stock room of the Lonely Star. You passed out just outside the door when you tried to leave,” I answered.
“Why did you send me home?” he continued.
“You’re not carrying any I.D., Jack Daniels,” I countered.
“What did you call me?”
“Jack Daniels. No I.D. so I have to call you something. Seems JD is your drink of choice so it’s all I have to go on. So you got a name?” I asked, watching as his eyes continued to search the tiny room.
“Jack Daniels works fine for now,” he answered, finally turning his eyes back to me. “Who are you?”
“Greer Stone, I’m a waitress here.”
“Yeah, I remember that much. What are you doing here with me?”
“You really expect me to leave some drunk I don’t know alone in the back of my bar?” I asked him, raising my eyebrows in question.
“Your bar?” he countered, his own eyebrows raising in question.
“Well, it’s pretty damn close. No one knows this place better than I do.”
“I’m sure.”
“Anyway, what are you going to do now? Try and get some more sleep here or try and catch a cab home?” I asked.
“What home?” I heard him mumbled as he struggled to untangle himself from the blankets and stand.
“Be still for a moment,” I ordered, gently shifting the blankets to uncover his body. “There,” I said, moving back once again.
He looked at me in silence for a moment before standing and shaking his head. He mumbled a thank you and headed for the front door.
“Hey, Jack Daniels! Can I ask you something before you go?” I questioned.
He turned and looked at me with a waiting expression.
“The picture in your wallet. Is she the reason you’re trying to drown yourself in drink?” I asked.
I watched his eyes cloud over in pain before he quickly turned and left the bar.
“That’s what I thought,” I whispered to the empty bar.
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