Last Call

Last Call

by Allen Dusk

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Allen
Dusk

Carnal Morgue Press

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.

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A pair of googly eyes stared back from
the dried puffer fish hanging overhead; warm orange light saturated
its hollow belly. Sophie couldn't pry her eyes from the morbid
little thing even though her fresh manicure clutched a tantalizing
drink menu. Her black halter hugged her curves, maybe a bit too
much judging by the dull ache squeezing her floating
ribs.

Soft music inspired by exotic jungle
islands soothed away her jittery nerves. Gradually she became aware
of her red shoe tapping along with the beat. The bar hosted a vast
collection of bottles, but their labels were impossible to decipher
in the dim lighting. Her gaze wandered past postcards of topless
hula girls and wooden masks tacked along the wall. A shrunken head
smiled through stitched lips from its perch on a bamboo
shelf.

Dead things always reminded
her of the summer she'd spent at a hunting lodge with her
grandfather. Every room was lined with deer heads and stuffed
birds, their dark glass eyes plaguing her every restless night.
Such beautiful creatures they were; she never could see the purpose
in hunting something solely to mount its head on a wall. It was
probably the reason she blew most first dates ordering
just
a salad.

I have no idea what I'm
doing here
, she thought.

"What can I get you?"

For a moment Sophie swore
the creepy fish spoke to her. She blinked, gathered her better
judgment, and reassured herself there was no reason to run away
screaming, which for a minute she had seriously considered. A blue
Hawaiian shirt stretched over broad shoulders stepped into view. A
plain name badge with
Lucas
scribbled in black marker was pinned above a firm
pectoral.

She glanced up, quickly losing herself
in a pair of eyes saturated with the deepest blue. "Um," she
skimmed over the menu, blushing under the intensity of his stare.
"Actually, I have no idea what I want."

The bartender laughed, cracking a
slight smile through his strong jaw. "What are you in the mood for
then? Something sweet, or savory perhaps?"

"Hmm." None of the native names or
exotic ingredients made much sense. Defeated by retro fonts and
neon inks, she laid the menu down so it faced him. "Which would you
recommend?"

"This is your first time at Trader
Mic's, isn't it?" Amusement kindled in his voice, "Because I would
never forget a face as beautiful as yours."

"You got me," Sophie laughed, catching
herself just shy of snorting. "I'm a Tiki virgin, I
guess."

"So what brings you out tonight? Maybe
I can suggest a drink that will match your mood?"

"Do you have anything for regret?" She
shifted on the stool, attempting to straighten the seam down the
back of her silk stockings without being noticed. Her garter belt
twisted, its edge roughing the back of her thigh. "I feel so stupid
in this outfit."

"Why would you say a thing like that?"
He looked her up and down. "It totally matches the kitsch of this
place."

"My girlfriend is really into retro
clothes and stuff, and she's been trying to get me into it as
well." She shifted the waistband of her leopard print skirt, which
only further strangled her hips trapped within its slim pencil cut.
"But I don't think this looks good on me at all."

"Are you kidding me? This place would
be packed if you modeled for one of our event flyers." He pointed
over his shoulder toward a collection of posters tacked to the
wall; some were faded, others dog-eared, but a sultry woman in
retro attire smiled dead center in every one.

"Thanks, but I'm not cut out to be a
model." She giggled through the flattery. "My friend, Carrie, the
one who convinced me to wear all this shit, she does photo shoots
once in a while."

Lucas browsed the patrons scattered
about the bar. "So, where's this friend of yours?"

"That's the funny part. I had just
finished parking when she texted to tell me she couldn't make it
because her boyfriend was being a dick about it. To be honest, I
almost drove home."

"That would have been a shame to put
all that to waste, you look really good. So what stopped
you?"

She thought back to that moment when
she'd sat in her car perfecting her ruby red lipstick in the
rearview mirror, glancing back at the towering wooden Tiki
sculpture beside the front door. Paperwork buried her desk, her
boss never quit assigning ridiculous deadlines, and she hadn't even
been on a date in months. Her salary would never afford a real
tropical getaway; plastic palm leaves would be the closest to
paradise she ever came. She could go back home and wear out another
set of batteries listening to erotic podcasts, or maybe it was
about damn time she took a risk and stepped inside
alone.

Sophie realized she'd been staring off,
but the bartender stood there patiently, staring at her neckline,
waiting for his answer.

"Well, I didn't get all dolled up for
nothing." She blushed again. She couldn't remember the last time a
guy had checked her out. "So, I figured maybe I'd have a couple of
drinks before I drove home."

He laughed again.

"What's so funny?"

"Never had a Tiki drink before have
you?"

"No, my version of
exotic
would probably be
mandarin vodka with Sprite."

"Well, you need to pace
yourself with these bad boys. There's a reason they have names
like
Zombie
."

"A
Zombie
, eh? What's in
that?"

"We use three different rums, some
fruit juices, bitters, and our signature cinnamon
syrup."

"All right, you've sold me. That sounds
delicious."

"One
Zombie
, coming right up." He glanced
down her shirt a second time before walking away.

Sophie watched him select a tall
ceramic mug decorated with a topless mermaid basking atop
skull-shaped rocks. Tribal flame tattoos rippled across his
forearms while he assembled the drink. Fascinated, she studied the
detail of each precise bottle spin and long fluid pour. Her fingers
drifted up, casually spinning the red flower slipped behind her
ear. He impaled fruit wedges with a swizzle stick before sliding
them into the drink.

"One
Zombie
, for the lonely lady." His
smile scattered butterflies through her stomach.
"Enjoy."

Eager for a taste she wrapped her
painted red lips around the bright straw, and sipped fast.
Sweetness bathed her taste buds. "Damn, that's divine."

"Good. Then you approve?"

"This is probably one of the best
things I've ever tasted in my life."

"I'm glad you like it. Just remember to
drink it slow."

Sophie nodded with a smile. Lucas cast
a wink her way, igniting a spark within her, before returning to
his duties. He approached a growing pile of dirty glasses near the
sink. She paced herself, savoring each slow draw of the delicious
drink. Her eyes consumed his every move, fantasy invaded her
imagination.

She pictured Lucas returning home alone
to his single bedroom apartment, an X-Box and stack of violent
games piled beside a TV. His simple bedroom with plain walls had
piles of laundry awaiting next week's turn at the coin wash. He'd
removed his shirt and laid it over a chair, muscles across his
chest flexing in slow motion. Hot desire rushed between her thighs,
distracting her with its sudden wetness but never halting her
fantasy. His jeans slid to the floor, a pair of boxers followed.
His smooth ass swayed toward the shower where steam billowed past
the plastic curtain. He turned, leaning in to test the water, the
silhouette of his cock dangling.

An older man wearing a dark cap and
Hawaiian shirt limped up to the bar, his spindly arm slowly waved.
A faded hula girl tattoo wiggled her hips over his frail skin. "Hey
there, Lucas."

Lucas looked up from his dish washing
duties; a keen smile filled his cheeks. "Evening, Chief. You want
the usual?"

"That would be swell." The
Chief set his cap on the bar. Bold yellow letters proclaimed USS
Utah AG-16, Pearl Harbor. He ran his fingers over his thin silver
hair straightening his part. He glanced in Sophie's direction, his
baggy eyelids lifted. "This young man makes the best damn Mai Tai
I've
ever
tasted.
Even when I was stationed over in the Pacific I never had
'em
this
good."

Lucas had already half prepared the Mai
Tai in a ceramic coconut mug. "You're full of shit, but thank you."
After splashing in a secret blend of rums, he topped it with
skewered fruit.

"I'm serious," the Chief said. "I don't
know what we're going to do without you."

Sophie's head hung over her drink, her
ears tuned toward their conversation. Her chest tightened and the
thoughts of Lucas lathering his nude body vanished into a steaming
veil of uncertainty. Knowing her luck, she had a snowball's chance
in hell of ever seeing him step into that shower.

"I'm sure you'll all be fine.
Bartenders are a dime a dozen these days." Lucas presented the
drink, hanging a plastic mermaid from the rim for his
encore.

The Chief hunched over and sipped. His
face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Don't know why a fine
young man like you would want to move off to such a small town.
What's the place called again?"

"Fort Dodge," Lucas said. "It's in
Iowa."

"Why would you do a stupid thing like
that?" The Chief drank again, wiped the spill from his lips with
his fingers. "If I were a strapping young man, I'd be headed off to
a big city like Chicago to round up as much trim as I
could."

"I appreciate your insight, Chief,"
Lucas snickered, shooting his eyes Sophie's way for a moment. A
touch of red warmed his cheeks. "But, there's nowhere you can be
that isn't where you're meant to be."

"I'll drink to that." The Chief raised
his mug and chugged.

Sophie's balance wavered.
Her wide eyes peered inside her towering mug. She licked her lips,
fascinated by cold numbness creeping through her teeth and warmth
slipping over her neckline.
Damn, I drank
the whole thing already?

"How's your drink over there?" Lucas
cocked his chin Sophie's way.

"Good." She faked a long sip through
the straw, hoping her eyes hadn't yet glazed over.

"Let me know when you need another." He
winked.

"I think I'm good for now." She smiled
despite panic wrapping its slender tendrils around her throat. Her
heart started pounding against her underwire. She sipped her empty
straw and pretended to take another slow swallow.