The Lost Mermaid

Chapter One   I opened my locker at Leo’s Bar and Grille,  trading my warm jacket for an apron that reeked of greasy burgers and booze. My thumb brushed against the pictures of smiling tourists that were stuck to the inside of my locker. These people had traveled the world, yet here we all were,  stuck together in this same little town.  After my adopted mom died of cancer, I gave up on my dreams of traveling the world as I originally had planned. I stayed in our family home in Brockton, Massachusetts, and got a job as a waitress. Were it not for the annoying flutter of the greased over bulbs that were begging, in pulsating morse code, to be relieved of their misery. As usual, The eggs were burning, and the sizzle of bacon stuffed the restaurant with the regular carnivores. I stepped out into the dining area to deliver food to customers sitting in a booth near the door and then moved on to take another order.  The door opened, and a man I hadn’t seen before walked in and slid into the booth across from the one I was currently assisting. I could smell the aroma of an old leather jacket clinging to his torso, worn and creased in all the right spots. He had dark brown hair, grey-blue eyes, and a smile that seemed to light up the room.  My eyes shifted from my order pad to the contours of his face. His presence was distracting me from taking orders from my current customers until Bertha’s hoarse bellow brings me back to my senses. “When you get a moment, Renae,  table two is up,”  she directed her dry tone at me while crammed in-between thanking and cashing out a customer and logging more orders.   It’s been one of those days, as we were short-handed, and the last call was an hour ago; the customers were just now starting to leave the restaurant slowly. I look over to Leo and Bertha, who I couldn’t have survived this past year.  Leo was an ornery, two open-heart surgeries and still a half pack of Marlboros and boilermaker a day kind of guy – but a gentleman, a rancorous one at that, and the one who let me keep all my tips. He cooked the food that the regulars requested. Leo’s wife, Bertha, ran the front end of the restaurant.  Bertha was about 5’5” and a little thick around the midsection. She kept her black hair in a bun and religiously wore her long black skirt and a red button-up shirt. She always has a smile on her face and knows her regulars by their order and name. It’s all in a day's work, including dealing with the daily horseflies whose grimy feelers became more a menace to my personal space.  “Will that complete your order?”  I asked the customers. Please let that be it.    “Whaddya think, red?”  Mack spittled together what words the Jim Beam rushing through his bloodstream would allow. Mack’s brown hair, which came down to his ears, was matted and messed up.   “You think that’s all I want?  Any suggestions?” Red said.  “How about missionary, huh!”  Brent chimed in with a slow move to caress my ass that I’ve become too much of a pro at deflecting. I quickly moved away from him, laughing inside.   “Let me bring you all some coffee. How’s that?” Deflection education at work as I turn in disgust to flee from the flies, but those sticky, lengthy arms still find their only purpose on my ass. Words are one thing, but physical contact - these worthless insects just bought themselves a can of whoop-ass  Raid. I’m prepared to lose my voice, the feeling in my hands after I swat them, and perhaps my job in the process when a voice out from the grease lights appeals to my case.  “I believe everybody, someday… somewhere, must pay for their misdeeds.  You two wouldn’t be church-going folk now, would ya?”  His commanding voice was heard throughout the restaurant. The archangel of my existence defended me.   “What in the hell’s it to you, boy?”  Mack sneered.   My face was red with embarrassment. I heard shocked sounds from a couple sitting at the counter behind the row of tables I was standing. “Apologize to the nice lady,” he said, grabbing Brent’s arm and twisting it behind his back.   I  realized that I  had just been standing there looking at him and hadn't even thanked him for saving me from Brent.  “Thank you….um...thank you for helping me,” I said quickly before walking back to the kitchen.   With the last call being a little over an hour ago, It was nearing 5 pm, and on Sundays, the kitchen usually closed up at 4 pm. Leo’s had been busy, and when I finally stepped out of the restaurant after closing up, the stranger was there, leaning up against a light post. I looked up from the ground into the soft gray-blue eyes of a man with hair as black as night, which seemed to stand up but somehow didn't appear messy.  His body made my heart skip, and when he smiled at me, I saw kindness in his eyes. I could see the tribal tattoos poking out from under his shirt,   working their way up to his neck. My heart began to race, and I felt the electricity in the air as I looked at him. He didn't compare to any of the guys from around town.  I looked up and down the street, and there was no one else in sight. With my apron still in hand, I slowly started toward him.  Caution faded away with every step, and I  felt the flow of his good intentions surround me.   Emboldened by this confidence, I spoke first. “I’m Renae. I know I already thanked you earlier, but really, thank you again for helping me back there.” I couldn’t breathe. It felt as if my heart was racing a million beats a minute. He reached out and took my hand. “My friends call me Bash.”  As we pulled our hands away, I saw electricity dance between our palms. It seemed to be reaching out from both of our hands connecting us.  Bash was about to say something when I felt a hot breath on my neck. A voice from behind me said, “Finally, Isobel will be so happy.”  “She’s not going with you, Draven,” Bash said.   Startled by a person behind me, I stumbled forward and fell into Bash. He pulled me behind him, one arm blocking me from moving past him or Draven getting too close to me. “it's been a long time,” Bash smirked at the stranger. I saw Bash reach into his jacket and pull out a pocket knife. It immediately glowed a pale blue and transformed into a broadsword. He swung it towards Draven. “Hello. Sebastian,” Draven said, motioning towards me. “The queen wants her.” Renae watched as Draven reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver butterfly knife. He tapped it against his leg, and it grew into a glowing broadsword with what looked like red flames dancing on it. He moved towards Bash. I stayed behind Bash but stepped away as the sound of swords colliding rang in the air.   “She is no queen,” Bash hissed. What is going on here? I thought to myself. I knew that I  should probably be running away, but a gut instinct told me that I was safer with Bash. I  really should've remembered to put my pepper spray in my bag today before coming to work.  “Queen? There are no queens in the United States,” I said more to myself than the guys.  Draven quickly pivoted around Bash and swung at me; I stood there in shock, unable to move as the blade was mere inches from my throat. I stumbled backward against the wall. Draven came at me again, his sword aimed for my heart. I was too petrified to move, too horror-stricken to even think about what was happening right now. “No,” Bash screamed as he locked eyes with me. He shoved himself in front of me, taking the blow meant for me. I pushed myself against the wall, with nowhere to go. I had no choice but to follow the encounter playing out right in front of me. Bash kicked Draven backward, digging the tip of his sword into his neck. “I will protect her with every breath in my body,” he growled.  My body trembled from the unbelievable situation, and I slide down the rough wall. Tires squealed, and a blue SUV swerved around the corner, jerking to a stop on the sidewalk next to where we were.  “Get in,” Bash said as he opened the door with his sword still pointing towards Draven.  I pushed myself up off the ground. Bash saved me. He got hurt because of me. I scrambled into the vehicle and slid over, making room for Bash as he quickly jumped in after me.