Colfax and Dead - chapter 2

urban fantasy novel I am writing. Set in Colorado, mostly Denver. Enjoy,

---

“I always told myself that I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Now that I’m dead, it appears there is too much to get done.” The thought crossed my mind again as it always did right around the 5th shot. I slammed the empty glass down on the bar and called for a 6th. Charlie slid a shot down the bar towards me. I lifted it up and downed it quickly. Bland and tasteless like everything else. My lack of smell and taste was a side effect of my condition. I didn’t usually waste much money drinking but tonight was a good night. I had gotten paid for some work, so I waved Charlie towards me. Thankfully the place was still mostly empty with the few dedicated drinkers currently in attendance.

“I’d like to settle, got paid.” I placed a couple of wrinkled $100’s on the bar.

“Sure, Daxx,” Charlie walked down the bar towards the register. He reached under the counter and pulled out a ragged little notebook stuffed with old receipts between the pages. The old notebook was held together by a leather cord he wrapped around it. With practiced movements he quickly unwrapped it. I’m not sure how he does it, but he always opens it to a page or two to where he needs to go. This time he opened directly to my page. He pulled out some receipts, closed the book, rewrapped the leather cord around it, and placed it under the bar.

Deftly, he spent a minute entering numbers into the register and printed a new receipt that he held out in front of him as he walked over to me. I held my breath pondering if I had enough money to pay the tab off in full and cover my bills for the next month. It seemed every other night I was here drinking a few shots while trying to relax. I closed my eyes briefly and pray to whatever gods there were for an amount I could handle.

“Charlie, could I…” I started to say incase the amount was more than I could afford. As Charlie lay a piece of paper in front of me, I stopped. The paper read ‘$22.57, ’ and I stared at it in shock. How could it be so little? I’ve been drinking probably 4-6 shots a night. I looked up in disbelief at Charlie with my mouth slightly open. My confusion and surprise must have been evident.

“Daxx, not sure what happened to you. None of my business, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let good alcohol go to waste,” Charlie said, but I was still confused so after a minute of silence he continued. “One night I accidentally gave you some apple juice I keep for the kids. You didn’t notice it. So I tried swapping out your gin with just tonic water. You still didn’t notice it.”

“You’ve been cheating me!” I sputtered as my brain finally caught up.

“Nah, I didn’t charge you for the drinks. You see, I saved ya over $200,” Charlie replied as he pointed to the long list of drinks. All of the ones that I remembered were there nice and neat with the dates and times next to them. Even the night I tried hitting on a lady by buying her a glass of wine was there. One glass at $5 the other was $0.00.

“I figured you were watering the stuff down to save money.” I laughed as I squeezed my left hand.

“Look, Daxx, you’ve been coming here for years. You never cause trouble, and when someone gets too drunk, you’re always the guy offering to call a cab.” Charlie offered a friendly smile. After a moment of silence, he moved his right hand under the bar.

“Whoa, I’m not looking for trouble. I just… I just… I’m not sure what happened to me, and I accepted the lack of taste and smell. I thought 40 years of drinking finally built up my tolerance.” I gave my best smile, and I waited for Charlie to relax. It took a moment, but his hand came back up from under the bar without the tire iron I know he keeps under there. Every few feet or so he had a tire iron or bat or shotgun in the case of the register hidden under for safety.

“I’m not interested in your story. I like having you as a customer, and I don’t abide screwing my customers.” Charlie smiled back the smile he gives all customers. I slid one of the $100 bills to Charlie.

“Even if you aren’t gonna charge me, at least take something for tips,” I said as I stood up. “Thanks for being honest. See ya tomorrow.” I stood up from the warm barstool that by now had a permanent impression of my butt on it and walked to the door. Right about the same time as I placed my hand on the door, Charlie said goodbye.

“Hey, Daxx. Get some rest, you look like shit,” Charlie yelled from behind the bar. I looked back at him and gave a little wave and stepped out of the Drunken Moose. Immediately I was hit with the sounds and smell of Colfax on Saturday night at 8 pm. People walking up and down the street, some inebriated and some not. Cars cruising by with windows down and bass rattling the side panels.

Right outside of the bar, exactly 20 feet from the door, was the usual group of smokers. I reached for the pocket where I normally keep my smokes, and it was empty. I walked up to the one that I knew, Dan who also knew me from when we were roughnecks out by Rifle. “Bum a smoke, Dan?” I asked, rubbing my hands together out of habit in the cold.

“Sure, man,” Dan replied with a little cloud of condensation. I didn’t think it was that cold out, but all of the smokers here were alternating between blowing little clouds from smoking from their breath. Dan held out a rolled cigarette and a lighter. I forgot that he rolls his own and since it is Colorado...

“Normal smoke? I gotta work in a bit,” I asked while reaching. A nod from Dan was all I needed as I put it to my lips and flicked the lighter. Few puffs later and I was one of the group blowing little clouds of smoke on a cold street corner. “Thanks, man, I owe you,” I said as I handed him back his lighter.

“No problem. Hey, you know any crews hiring near Parachute?” Dan quickly asked as he always did. Me and the guys figured he had a girl on the side that lived out there. I shook my head in reply to his question.

“Ain’t been on a crew since the accident.” They all nodded their head in reply to my comment. I guess I’m a popular topic of conversation. “Besides it’s rough work, getting too old, too tired for it.”

“Meh, you can sleep when you’re dead,” Dan joked as he threw the stub of his cigarette to the ground and squashed it with his boot. I wanted to tell him he was wrong but needed to stop at home before I went to work. I thanked him again as I started walking down the sidewalk towards Holly Street. As I walked, I pulled my coat tighter around me trying to block out the cold, seemed this winter I was always cold. Maybe it was time for a new jacket.

At Holly Street and Colfax, I turned northward to my house. My mood was getting fouler as I walked. The neighborhood wasn’t designed for every house to have four cars. Even if I did still drive, I wouldn’t as the streets were tight narrow corridors lined with metal, plastic, glass, and rubber. Again I thanked the cold cause it kept most people indoors the few parties that were going on stayed within the confines of the house. I passed by the next block shaking my head at the idea of gentrification. This whole street used to be affordable and full of families who took some pride in their street. Now, you get these kids who think it is cool to live in a dump. Then they complain when it is not as clean or pretty as the cookie-cutter suburbs. With the cold the sidewalk was mostly clear, I only saw kids who belonged more in Highlands Ranch, Parker, or Vail. Twenty years ago I would have robbed some of them on principal. Give them a story to tell their friends when they meet at Starbucks to compare their BMW’s.

I got to my place soon enough, built in the 30’s and bought by my parents in the 70’s and then sold in the 80’s. I was able to buy it back with my inheritance in the 90’s. I converted the garage into a little guest house.

Walking up towards the front door of my place I reached in and snagged the mail. The porch light gave me enough light to figure out which mail was mine and which were my tenants. After taking mine, I placed the remaining letters and the missing persons flier in the mailbox and went back to the guest house. I unlocked the door and entered quickly. Once inside, I closed the door and locked it back up: handle, deadbolt, and bar. While the neighborhood has improved, it is still as dangerous as when I was younger.

I turned on a light and threw my mail on the table. It landed with a little slap and slide until it hit some cardboard filing boxes. There would be time later for bills or who ever else was asking me for money. I removed my jacket and hung it with care on the back of a chair that went with the table. Then using the chair as support I removed my boots, taking care not to let it wobble too much. Lost one chair a few weeks ago, cause the last one wobbled and I fell on it breaking it. With coat and boots off I walked to one of the few other furnishings in my little studio apartment, an old lazy boy chair. While I knew I couldn’t sleep, I still found just relaxing in it always made me feel refreshed. Sitting down and reclining, I closed my eyes, hoping sleep or something else would finally take me.