Pay To Stay

“Put his on my tab.”

Luca glanced down the bar at the woman sitting eight empty stools away. Normally there’d be a crew of regulars between their seats. She had long, matte black hair that seemed to shun the light and green eyes that gleamed like an animal. Sharp cheekbones. Pretty. Not TV pretty, his wife Ruth would say. The thought made him smell her cigarettes. When Scott refilled his bourbon, Luca lifted the glass and nodded to her in thanks.

He didn’t trust anyone he didn’t know.

He didn’t know much of anyone.

She didn’t say anything.

When his glass was empty, Scott appeared and poured another. “This one’s also on the lady.” His normally cold eyes had an impish glint. Seen my share of honest men do dishonest things, they said.

Luca’s cheeks burned. Didn’t know what he hated more: the implication or the sudden flash of her dark hair sliding down his body. He drank it in silence too. So did she. That bothered him. Never had someone buy him a drink without chatting him up about something. Never bought someone a drink without doing the same.

Shit’s real weird tonight.

“Surprised the boys ain't in,” Scott said.

It took Luca a moment to realize the bartender was talking to him. “Shouldn’t be.”

“No?”

“Some shit happened.”

Scott frowned. “Heard a tunnel collapsed.”

“From?”

“Juan.”

Luca raised his glass. There you go.

“So Juan should be here then.”

“If he’s there,” the dark haired woman said, “They won’t let him go.”

They both turned to her.

After a sigh, she fixed her eyes forward on the wall. “Tunnel collapse in a mine is a big deal. Company that owns it will want to know the cause. If anyone’s trapped, the town will want to know they’re okay and whats being done about it. Either case, answers won’t be quick. It’ll take time.”

Scott side-eyed Luca, who shrugged an assent. The bartender said, “It's a tragedy, I guess.” His sigh said, But bad for business.

Luca and the woman exchanged annoyed glances. She gestured at his drink. “I got your bill.”

He wanted to turn it down, but his pride was smothered by the thrill. Luca raised the glass in thanks again. She nodded back.

The television above the bar was tuned to the news. He didn’t remember what it’d been when he walked in. Or walking in at all. A chopper view of the mine was on screen. Police tape kept a crowd of onlookers at bay. Police and emergency workers were ants milling around the mountain.

“Can you turn that up?”

Scott frowned at it. “Didn’t realize it was on.” He walked over and tapped at it until voices could be heard at a low drone. Not loud enough for details. Luca’s mouth opened intent on asking it to be louder. What came out was a dry, hacking cough, the moisture sapped from his throat. One of those vicious coughs that filled your face with pressure and turned you beet red. The kind someone always, even though it was pointless and you’re obviously fine, asked-

“You okay?” the bartender asked.

Luca shot him an annoyed, teary-eyed glare. Scott shrugged. The woman didn’t look over or say anything. When the fit passed, his voice was a croak over sandpaper throat. “Water.”

Scott frowned but filled a glass and slid it over to him. “Already got a drink.”

Fuck you. Luca didn’t speak from fear he’d break into another coughing fit. Drank the water. It hurt his throat and tasted like dirt and coal dust. Grimacing, he said “Buddy, you gotta change the line or something, this tastes like shit.”

The look he got was so sour Luca smelled lemons. “Just sayin'.”

“Some can’t handle criticism,” the woman said. She was closer, six stools away. He hadn’t seen or heard her move. Scott rolled his eyes, and looked away, right at the mirror. At himself.

Luca sneered. Tossed back the drink and slammed it on the countertop, intending to startle the bartender. Scott didn’t twitch, but turned, perfect eyebrows above annoyed eyes.

“Need a fill.”

Without breaking eye contact, Scott grabbed the bottle, popped the top, poured (perfectly) and replaced the bottle. Then went back to his spot to stare at himself in mirror again.

“Asshole,” Luca muttered. Bartender gave no indication he heard. Maybe just didn’t care.

“You know him?” the lady asked.

Resisting the urge to face her, Luca shrugged. “More or less. Went to the same high school. Everyone here did. Guy was a real ladykiller, weren’t ya?”

Scott didn’t look at him but smiled.

“Friends?” she asked.

“Not even a little.”

“Enemies.”

“Not back then.”

A few minutes passed as they nursed their drinks. The right side of his body, the side facing her, tingled. Made him itchy. Scratching didn’t alleviate it. Luca stared at the news. Tagged in bright bold letters was the headline

MINING TUNNEL COLLAPSE

Updates crawled along the bottom. Unconfirmed: 9 miners missing, assumed trapped.

“What do you think happened?” she asked.

He shrugged. “No idea. Could be anything. Mines are old.”

“Guess.”

“I don’t like guessing.”

She chuckled. It was warm as honey. “Only someone bad at guessing says that.”

With a sigh he rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. Gas pockets, bad charge, bad tunnel supports, fault shift, flooding, earthquake, adjacent tunnel collapse, underground vibrations, literally. Fucking. Anything.”

“Dangerous job,” she replied, unbothered by his tone.

“Yep.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“I do.”

“How long?”

“Fourteen years.”

She whistled. “Must be tough on your wife.”

He looked at her, pulling back when he saw she was five seats away. “What makes you say that?”

The woman cocked her head. “Is it supposed to be a secret?”

Luca didn’t know how to respond.

A sly smile stretched her full lips, her eyes moving to his hand and the ring flaring in the light. His cheeks burned. “Ah. Yeah.”

“How long?”

“Twelve years.”

Another whistle. “Which has felt longer?”

He bristled at the question but didn’t snap at her. Pretended it wasn’t because of the warmth blooming in his chest when she looked at him. “Depends on the day.”

“Preach.” She leaned over, holding her glass out. He clinked his against hers. “Fuckin. Preach.”

Luca finished the drink. The scratchy thirst wasn’t going away. He cleared his throat and swallowed, grimacing at the lingering shit aftertaste from the water.

“So,” she continued, setting her empty glass on the counter. “Come here often?”

“That’s my line,” he said, embarrassed the moment it left his mouth.

She laughed, loud and hard. It hadn’t been that good a joke. Luca looked at Scott, who watched them from the mirror with half lidded, knowing eyes. Eyes that knew secrets and sometimes kept them. When he looked back, she was another seat closer. Didn’t see or hear her and the stools were close enough to linger in his peripheral. The part of his brain protesting was drowned out by her tight shirt and leather pants that looked painted on.

“So you’re a regular.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

“I guess I come here a bit.”

“Know all the regulars then?”

Not the direction he wanted the questions to go but he’d play along. “Sure, I work with most of them.”

“Where do y'all work?”

He nodded at the television.

“Huh.” She smiled at the news report. “And that’s why they aren’t here.”

“Yep.”

“Why are you here?”

He frowned. Tried to find an answer, but a headache unfurled so potent it made the back of his head feel wet. The damn tingle was getting worse too. He couldn’t stop scratching at his arm and leg trying to assuage it. “Because I’m not.”

“The others aren’t here because of that.” She looked to the news. “Why aren’t you there?”

Simple question, but it set his leg bouncing and pissed him off. “Why do you care?”

Her turn to shrug. “Why do you?”

I don’t, he almost snapped, but that would have proven her right. “Because I wasn’t at work.” His smile was smug. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer. But the sweat on his forehead was so cold.

“I see.” Her tone was placating, like a parent to a child. “Guess you had the day off.”

Luca frowned but nodded. Did he? Why? They got some holidays off, a better deal than most companies, but there wasn’t one for months. He saved his sick time in case he needed to watch Ben, their five year old. “I guess.”

She sighed. “You guess.” Sounded exasparated.

He stared at his drink, watching her from the corner of his eye. Scott refilled their cups. He watched her hand lift out of view from two seats away. Lowered back down from the stool next to him. One smooth movement. No sound. Every muscle tensed and he began to shake. When did it get so cold? Why was he sweating so much?

“Hey man, turn the heat on or something.”

Scott huffed. “Get your own bar and set the heat where you want.”

“Asshole.” Luca scratched at his face. It burned. He hissed in pain. His fingers came away wet. He didn’t look at them, grabbing the glass with a shaking hand and squeezing. It was cold, like deep stone.

“Just breathe,” she said.

“What?” He turned.

She was an intimate distance from his face. Her eyes were white with coal pupils, a spark burning in their depths. Long lashes. Sharp cheekbones. Stunning really. Definitely TV pretty. He could feel the shape of her body without touching. Luca’s heart hammered against his ribs. “Just breathe,” she repeated. Her breath was sharp and sweet like wine.

He smiled. Tears came down his eyes. Because he wasn’t breathing. Couldn’t find his voice. A vice gripped his chest.

She placed a hand on the shoulder that wasn’t tingling. It was warm. “Breathe.”

Air rushed through his rictus grin, chest stretching with the crackle of stressed fiberglass. Agony bloomed. The exhale was a sob. “What’s happening?”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do.”

Scott refilled both drinks. “Take it outside before the heavy petting.”

Luca tried to turn to him, to bite his head off, punch him, anything. Go admire yourself in the mirror some more. Her hand found his cheek before the signal reached from his brain to his his neck, keeping his eyes on her. “Stay.”

Another wracking breath. The lights flickered in the bar. “I never miss work.”

She smiled. “You don’t.”

“We all made it on time.”

“You did. What happened next?”

The television flickered. It was like watching a found footage film through Luca’s eyes. He saw the regulars, the men who went to the bar every day after shift. Their faces and names were smoke but he recognized them by build and voice. Each doing their job in the tunnels. Dirty work. Hard work. Dangerous work. They didn’t like each other but there was trust. Needed it.

“They came every day. I’d join them after shift sometimes.”

Another tremor ran through the bar. She inched closer. “Keep going.”

“I didn’t want to be a drunk. If I only showed up once a week, I wasn’t. Ruth encouraged more but I wasn’t going to be a ghost to my kid. Like my dad.” He squeezed the glass till the hard angles hurt his hand. The sharp edges digging into his palm didn’t match the angles of the cup. “Even picked me up. Always made a point to come in and chat up Scott.”

The bartender still admired himself in the mirror, oblivious or uncaring.

“Guy knew ladies liked him. She’d come in, have a look. He always flirted with her. Ruth encouraged me to come so it’d be a real easy transition to fucking him. No need to explain whiskey dick to a bartender. Explaining the condition to the pharmacist.”

She frowned. “You assume.”

“What was I supposed to think? It’s not like I never thought it or never had the chance.” His eyes slid down her body. “Why wouldn’t she.”

“You never did though.”

“Thought about it. Came close once.” He stared at Scott, who grinned back through the mirror. “Chickened out. Never got that close again.”

“Why?”

Luca looked down and away. Blood covered his tingling hand, smeared over the glass and pooling on the counter. “She may, but I wouldn’t.”

“She never did.”

“Sure,” he scoffed.

She grabbed his chin, the grip strong and unkind. Turned his head to her. His neck screamed in protest, tendons ripping. Her eyes were hard as stone. “She. Never. Did.”

He saw the truth in those eyes.

“You are insecure. Petty. With a lion's share of self loathing. But they were fantasies. You came close, but never crossed the line yourself.”

The tears came faster, as did the pain. “Then that means I was-”

Another tremor ran through the bar. The lights blinked off for a few seconds then came back.

“Unfair. Yes. Luca, I need you to listen. Can you do that?”

He tried to nod but his neck didn’t work.

“The tunnel collapsed. They’ll have theories but never know why. That’s not important. You have a hole in your head. Some memory loss. The right side of your body is crushed under the stones. You’re going to lose one of them.”

“No,” he gasped. “Please.”

Her hand released his chin and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry. I can’t do anything about that. My miracles are smaller and come at a cost. Ruth paid when she heard you were trapped. She has a kind soul, asked me to save you and whoever I could. I tried with the others. It kept me at a distance, but they didn’t hold on hard enough. I can’t do this if you don’t do your part. So I need you, Ruth needs you to do your part. Don’t be a ghost to Ben.”

The pain intensified. His breathing was faster and labored. Warmth splashed down his back from his skull. She took the hand from his cheek and slid it between his and the glass, then placed her other on the knee of his right leg.

“She paid her part. To survive this, you need to pay yours.”

“It’s not fair.”

Her smile was understanding but stern. “It never is.”

Cold spread from his neck to his right side, soothing the agony but terrifying him more.

“The others didn’t pay so they couldn’t stay. It’s not fair, but it is simple.”

He thought about Ruth. Her smile. Her patience. And about Ben and all the little quirks and budding traits Luca noticed and hated in himself. The ones that felt like his genes were a lingering poison, made him terrified his son would grow up and become everything he hated; a man as flawed and desperate as Luca or somehow worse. Whose fault would it be if not his?

But he couldn’t do anything to help if he was dead. Even though Luca’s father was alive, the man made no attempt and didn’t care their relationship was nonexistent.

Though the pain was excruciating, Luca turned to the mirror and looked at himself. “I can’t stop what’s going to happen. To me or to them.”

“Never could.”

“But they don’t have to go through it alone.”

When she smiled, he felt the warmth even as another tremor shook the bar, rattling the bottles and eliciting a sigh of annoyance from Scott. The lights blinked out. He could still feel the woman’s hands on him.

“Take the leg.”

She squeezed his knee. It creaked from the pressure, pain causing him to see bursts of light. “Are you sure? The damage is bad enough you won’t have full use of the arm.”

“And if you took the arm I wouldn’t have full use of the leg.”

“Yes.”

Panic jumped into his throat. How would he work? What would he do? He could always go back to woodworking, make it more than a hobby. Two made it easier to get around.

“Lots of people do good work with one arm.”

“True.”

“And lots of people get around fine with one leg.”

He felt her smile. “Also true.”

It was the thought of putting his arms around both Ruth and Ben on their family movie nights that tipped the scale. “The leg.”

The pain through his leg vanished, replaced by a searing, vicious agony just below his hip. He screamed. Squeezed her hand as hard as he could. She didn’t let go.

The burst of light continued. Not just from the pain, but from holes appearing in the walls of bar, the sides falling away like broken rock. Bright artificial light burst through, followed by a murmur of voices and the rumble of heavy machinery.

Her mouth opened in the deep heavy voice of a man. “I’ve found one! He’s alive!”

Voices responded beyond the holes. “We’re coming!”

The familiar crack of stones as they were tossed to the mineshaft floor. The feel of air so cool it felt liquid across his sweaty brow.

“I’m afraid,” he said.

“That’s okay,” she whispered in his ear. “We all are.”