Dario stared at the crack in the letter P of the neon purple light above the wide entrance. Several years since a drunken brawl that had spilled onto the street and caused the damage and the new management still hadn’t fixed the sign. They seemed to think the fissure gave the place character, but he disagreed. The ancient building of the Old Town drowned out most of the noise—an attractive feature for bar and night-club owners.
The old stomping ground of Dario’s gang had seen change of ownership and a few facelifts over the years, but kept its name. The pack gathered here on their nights out and if the saying that old habits die hard was true, and Irena was back, she’d visit this place. All over the town posters advertised tonight’s venue at the Papillion, she would expect to find him here.
The blending light gave the illusion the large butterfly above the archway of the blues lounge, Papillion Bleu, flapped its oversized wings. Boisterous laughter drifted from the long line of patrons braving the cold night. Damn, he’d freeze his balls off out here. Stupid to leave his jacket in his car so he wouldn’t have to cart it along. Why hadn’t he listened to his brother and came with him? Ante’s connections got him into many places no matter how long was the line.
In a few strides, he stepped up to the main door and nodded to the bouncer, his high school buddy. The bald man nodded back and opened the thick, red rope strung over the doorframe.
“Not fair! Come on, man, I’m waiting for almost an hour.” The first guy in the lineup took a step too close.
“Take it up with the boss.” The bouncer thrust his thick arm at the pushy patron. Dario lowered his head and slipped inside, embraced by instant warmth.
Neon strobe lights throbbed in rhythm with the base. As always, the live band packed the house. Dario followed the lit path, meandering among the filled plush booths toward the circular bar in the middle. A couple left for the dance floor, leaving two stools empty. The bartender flashed a beer bottle at him just as he settled on the seat. He nodded and the bottle slid along the smooth surface at his open palm.
He took a sip and scowled at the overly bitter taste. After years of sailing on foreign ships, he got used to finer brews. Domestic beer no longer suited his taste buds, but he didn’t feel like bothering the bartender for something else. The guys behind the bar barely kept up with the orders barked at them.
The music beat caught him, and he tapped his foot while nodding in cadence with the weeping guitars. Nothing expressed his mood like blues and this tune was his favorite from his secret ‘brooding playlist.’ He pivoted the stool away from the bar and scanned the crowd for familiar faces. His brother’s thick hair stood out among the manicured ladies. Which one would wake up in his bed come morning? Fools should know better. Ante loved his ladies, but his heart belonged to only one. Hopefully, he’d change his ways before Martina found someone.
The song ended, but the long applause prompted the band to keep going and they picked up the rhythm with BB King’s classic.
“Dario, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Ana’s slurring voice rose above the noise. She plopped her silver clutch purse on the bar and braced her hip against his stool. Her smeared lipstick and runny mascara revealed her sorry state. She shook her empty glass in front of his face. “I could use another one.”
“Sure, what are you having?” Telling her she had enough would infuriate her. He flagged the bartender.
Her frown deepened lines around her lips. “The stronger, the better.”
He nodded at her, leaned over the bar and gave the order to the bartender. When the man raised one eyebrow, Dario nodded. “And make it a double.”
The bartender set to work and slid the cocktail glass toward Ana. She grabbed the drink and slurped, then coughed. “This is stale, cold coffee.”
“And it’s pretty strong, I bet.” He pushed a bottle of water in her free hand. “Drink this too. Tomorrow will be hell to pay.”
She puffed her cheeks and blew out a hot breath. He frowned at the smell of stale booze carried to his face.
“Oh, I get it.” She set the drink down, shaking the plastic bottle at him. “You’re still pissed at me about the money.”
“Was it the money you asked to pay for your child’s doctor bill, but you spent it on a new pair of shoes? Or was it the time you asked to buy things for your son’s school supplies and somehow ended up on a shopping spree for your darling self?”
She shrugged and shook her head. “What was I to do? Tom paid for those things.”
Six months later and her callousness still bugged the hell out of Dario. However, he had only himself to
blame. After the first time she’d spent his money on other things rather than her child as she’d claimed, he should’ve denied her and taken the boy to buy what he needed. But it was easier to give her a few bills to stop her from whining. Well, at least, her child had one responsible parent. “The right thing would’ve been to return the money.”
“Meh.” She shrugged one shoulder, licked her parched lips, then pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her purse and slid one out.
“If you needed money, ask. Don’t lie about your child.” He plucked the smoke from her crooked lips and crushed it. “It’s a non-smoking bar. If you don’t stop with this drinking and partying crap, you’re going to risk losing custody of your child.”
She frowned. “I could live with that. The little brat is costing me some serious cash. He wants this and that and what’s left for me? Nothing.”
“That’s the price of parenthood.” Dario patted her arm, understanding it was booze that spoke. “You tricked me two times, never again. Being a single, unemployed mom is hard. Focus on your kid.”
Damn it, she made him furious with her pity party for one. He needed to get away from her. He plopped his beer on the bar. “I have to go look for Ante.”
Sniffling, she wiped her hand under her nose. “I don’t want to be a waitress anymore. I’m done with that crap.”
He leaned closer to her ear. No point advertising her misfortune to those standing by. Her unsteady legs and loud voice already drew attention. Perhaps she was better off not working in the restaurants where she’d have a free access to booze. “Get your act together,
prove it to me, and I’ll pay for your college. Get that nursing diploma you always wanted.”
“I don’t want any job or go to school. Why can’t I get a man to look after me?” She hiccupped and took a step forward, lost the balance and stumbled.
Dario grabbed her elbow, steadying her on her feet. “You need to go home.”
Yanking her arm away from his grasp, she pushed on his shoulder. “Stop pretending you care about me, you didn’t want me. Let me be and go with your precious Irena. Oh, I forgot, she’s gone. She left you.”
Damn it, Ana. He came out tonight with hopes to find Irena, however impossible that seemed, not to get guilt-tripped. If Ana planned to hurt him with her careless remark, she pierced his heart, though her accusatory tone stung the most.
“Ana.” A woman’s voice boomed. Dario snapped his head toward Ana’s sister. “It’s okay, Dario. I’ll take her home.”
He nodded and got to his feet. Judging by Leila’s scowl, she was getting fed up chasing after her sister and dragging her drunken ass home. “Go home, Ana.”
“One more drink.” Ana jerked away from Leila’s hold and took a step toward the bar.
“You had enough.” Leila wrapped her arm around Ana and nudged her toward the exit. “Let’s go home now.”
Dario returned to his seat, the band’s music drifted past him, but he couldn’t place the song with Ana’s words replaying in his mind. He breathed deeply and took a slug of his beer, scowling again at its bitterness. A person clad in a red cloak approached, the deep hood hid the face, but the swaying of hips under the cloth
reminded him of Irena. She still wore her mask even though it was after midnight when true identities were revealed. She squeezed between his stool and the one next to him. The citrus perfume was Irena’s branding.
Holding her glass, she faced him. Her hood covered most of her features, but something about her deepened his suspicion that Irena stood before him. She downed the orange drink, then licked her full lips. With the glass pressed to her chest, she uttered a deep moan for the appreciation of for the cocktail.
“Easy there, there’s plenty of night left.” He tilted his head, trying to catch a different light to see her, but it was too dark to make out her features around her mask.
“No worries, I only drink half a shot of vodka.” She placed the tumbler on the bar and flashed him a smile. Her accent seemed foreign and so did her treble, unlike Irena’s alto. Who was this woman?
But her drink, or the way she liked it, had him sitting on nails. Half a shot of vodka in her screwdriver…he’d only known of one female who drank it that way.
The girl took two steps away from him, halted and turned her head to look over her shoulder. Was she waiting for him to follow her? What are you waiting for? He set his drink on the bar and got on his feet. She continued on her way, keeping a slow pace, squeezing between the crowds. He stayed a few steps behind.
Ante intercepted him at the main door, shoving a brown bottle at him. “Leaving already? You forgot your beer.”
“Hold it for me.” He waved him off, never taking his eyes off the red hood, slowly disappearing into the crowd outside.
“Hold it for you? Oh, you’re expecting to find beer left when you get back?” Ante’s shout grew louder with every word.
Dario glanced at him. “Fine, drink it up.”
When he raised his glance at the crowd on the street, the red hood had vanished. Damn it. Had he seen a ghost? It couldn’t have been too much beer. He’d barely taken a couple of sips. No, she was real and she couldn’t have gone too far. He stepped out on the cobblestone paved road of the old city. At the corner, he spotted her cloak and followed her. In an instant, she ran into the narrow alley.
“Wait,” he called, catching up with her. Grabbing onto her shoulder, he turned her around. The girl uttered half a scream and pierced him with do-I-know- you stare. He spotted the differences between this girl and the one at the bar. The blue mask encircling her eyes and half a nose had shiny studs, not red feathers. She stood a good two inches shorter than the other girl and wore no lipstick.
“So sorry, I mistook you for someone.” He released his grip on her shoulder and took a step back. What were the odds they’d be two girls in red cloak tonight?
Wondering where to look next, he rubbed his neck, walking slowly back toward the Papillion Bleu.
“Psssst…”
He pivoted at the piercing sound and there she leaned against the whitewashed wall of a Gothic church, several steps from him. Some unexplained power rooted him to the spot. Would she run away if he approached her? She gathered her cloak around her and
continued down the alley.
“Wait, don’t go.” He called after her, but she spun in his direction and placed her gloved finger to her lips. The deep hood still hiding most of her face, the large plumes of her mask covering her eyes fluttered in the air.
Then she took a sharp left turn, skipped the two steps and entered a dark vault of the ‘City Gates,’ a tunnel leading beneath the ancient, stone-built medieval walls once erected for protection, and one of many perfect hideouts for the couples of old and modern times. The secret make-out hole he’d taken Irena to spend time alone, away from prying eyes.
He approached with hesitation. His heart pounded, ready to jump out of his chest. Could it be her? “Who are you?”
She panted in the corner, her breathing audible in the quiet of the night. Her shoulders rose and fell with each breath she took. Slowly she turned and faced him, and pulled the hood and the mask from her head, revealing the rest of her. “Have I changed that much?”
His heart stopped for a moment. Even in the dark, her blonde hair would stand out, not now. Her head blended with the darkness. The length of her hair seemed odd, cropped too short. Still, the tresses framed her petite face. A face that haunted him for the past fourteen years finally stood in front of him.
