The Razor's Edge: A Postapocalytic Novel (The New World Book 6) (34 page)

“You’re going to sit at my bar, sleep under my roof, eat my food, drink my booze and not tell me who you are? You’ve been here a week and all I know is you drink a lot, work out and play with your knives.”

Lexi thought about what John said for a moment and came to the conclusion he had a point. “You’re right and I’m a bitch. I, um, I just don’t like to talk about stuff, because doing so makes it seem real. Just sitting here like we’ve been doing for the past two or so hours talking about nothing but old movies, food, cocktails etcetera allows me to escape the fucked-up world we live in. It allows me to…forget.”

John walked back and stood directly across from her.

“I’ve seen a lot of bad shit out there. I’ve seen what people are capable of. It’s disgusting and revolting and I fucking hate it,” she said.

“I can’t say I’ve seen what you’ve seen out there because I decided to stay right here. Never saw the need to venture out beyond the town limits.”

“Don’t. Stay right here. It’s a hot mess out there.”

John grabbed the bottle and her glass and placed it in front of her.

She reached for it, but he slid it back just a few inches, indicating he wasn’t quite ready to give it up.

The faint sound of John’s rooster could be heard outside.

Lexi craned her head and looked at the nearest window; there she saw the morning’s first light beaming through the thin metal blinds.

She turned back to John and said, “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing really, but if you’re going to stay here, I’d like to know who you are, at least. I don’t need to know the gory details. I’m just an old man who likes to know who I’m talking to. I look at it this way, before I lived my life not concerned about other people. I was one of those people who never listened to anyone. In a conversation, I took the time the other used to talk to think about what I was going to say. I never truly listened,” John said, and then paused to think. “You know, that’s probably why my marriage failed. I never listened; all I did was talk and talk.”

“Like now?” Lexi joked.

John smiled and said, “Yes, like now. I’ll just finish with this. After everything happened, I decided to listen. I finally told myself that life is fragile and all this can end at anytime, so why not take the time to get to know people. Everyone has a story.”

Lexi sat staring at John as a feeling of sadness came over her. Not one to show her emotions anymore, she decided to respond in a gentler way than her typical crass self. “Fine, sounds like a fair deal. You’re feeding and sheltering me, the least I could do is tell you who I am. The thing is, it’s not exciting. In fact, it’s downright boring, and the other shit that happened after was just plain horrid. But if telling you my boring story gets me another drink or two, I can do that,” she said. A smile broke her stoic face.

John too smiled and looked at the young woman who sat in front of him. If he had to guess, he’d say she was in her late twenties. Her choppy and unevenly cut hair looked like it had been blonde once, but her dark brown roots had grown out so long that what remained of the blonde was now just on the tips. Her body was not skinny but slender with lean muscle. Her eyes were a light brown and her skin was a golden tan from the sun. Across her face, hands and arms he could see signs of cuts and bruising, she had definitely been fighting her way from wherever she came.

He slid the glass back to her, pulled the cork on the Grey Goose and poured her another shot.

She grabbed the glass quickly and was about to slam it down when he interrupted her.

“Hold on, sweetheart. What are we toasting to this time?”

Lexi again smiled and her answer came quickly. “Let’s drink to getting to know one another.”

“I like that.”

They tapped glasses and drank.

Like before, she slammed the shot glass down and wiped her face. She could feel the effects from the vodka. “You have anything to snack on?”

“I can make some breakfast.”

“I’m not a high-maintenance person, just a bag of chips or something will do.”

“I wish, I ran out of…wait a minute, hold on,” John said and quickly went into the back.

Lexi took the time of his absence to look around the bar. Her previous self would never have gone into a place like this, it would have been too ‘redneck’ or ‘white trash’ for her. Her past life was filled with nightclubs or trendy hip places. She never was one for dive bars and or family-type bar and grilles, like the Mohawk. She spun on the stool till it faced a jukebox; without walking to see the playlist, she had a good guess the type of music that it held.

John returned almost giddy with excitement. “I almost forgot I had these,” he said, holding up a large family-sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

“No wayyyy!” She squealed like a kid.

“Yes, way.”

“They’re, like, my favorite.”

“Mine too.” He laughed.

“You, my friend, are definitely not a fucking idiot, you’re the man!” she said loudly, barely able to restrain her excitement.

“And if you don’t like that flavor, I also have…” He pulled a bag of regular nacho from behind his back.

“I’m not even high and I think I can eat a whole bag myself,” Lexi excitedly said.

“Help yourself,” John said as he opened both bags and placed them on the bar.

Lexi dove right into the chips. The texture and crispiness of the chips was still there. She only imagined they were past due, but she couldn’t tell if the quality was inferior. Maybe it was because she hadn’t had one in so long or she had forgotten how they tasted before.

“If you pull a Twinkie or HoHo out of your ass, I think I might have sex with you,” Lexi joked.

“As a matter of fact…”

“No shit?” she muttered, pieces of chips falling out of her open mouth.

John turned to leave, stopped, turned back around and said, “Joking.”

“I was joking too. I wouldn’t have sex with you, sorry. You’re just a bit too old for me,” Lexi said, stuffing a handful of chips into her mouth.

“Ha, sorry, sweetie, I look at you as the daughter type.”

“Since you want to talk about who we are, you go first,” Lexi urged.

“Nope, I’m providing the feast and refreshments.”

Filling her mouth with a few more chips, she began.

“I was born and raised in a not-so-shitty little town called La Jolla to a bitch of a mother who cared more about her next dinner party or socialite function than taking care of me or my sister. I have to laugh now; we were more like props for her. We were raised by a series of nannies over the years.”

John just watched Lexi talk and all he could think was how someone could not love their children. He didn’t have the experience, but he felt deep down that if he and his ex had had children, he would have loved them so deeply and given them everything.

“My mom was such a bitch she drove my dad away when I was six; my sister was a baby. He couldn’t take her shit anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am too, I loved my dad. He won custody of us, but was killed in a small plane crash not two weeks later.” She hesitated as she dreamt about the life she could have had. “Who dies in plane crashes? I mean, the odds are so slim that it was like fate said I was fucked from birth. God wasn’t about to let me and Carey have a normal life.”

“I don’t think God—”

Lexi interrupted him, “No preaching, okay. I don’t care if you believe in God, but any God that would allow children to be mistreated and this shit to happen can’t be the nicest guy.”

John cracked a grin and said, “Fair enough.”

“Pour me another shot.”

John obliged and listened through two more shots as she described her school days. He just looked at her and thought that deep down was a little girl who had been hurt tremendously throughout life. She had grown up relatively wealthy, but a child didn’t really care about those things. A child values time and attention above all else. There she lived a life of poverty, one void of the love and nurturing a child needs from a parent. From what he gathered, she and her sister, Carey, had a very close relationship. Not wanting to leave her sister, she went to college locally. Then as if following a script of disappointment, her sister graduated high school and moved away to go to college. This deeply disappointed Lexi, but like a parent, she accepted it and decided that Carey was now old enough to take care of herself.

After her sister left, Lexi’s life fell into a shallow and rhythmic repetition of work and partying with
friends
. With no goals or aspirations, all she had to look forward to was the next party. The relationship with her mother was estranged, they’d see each other for holidays, but Lexi couldn’t wait to get to the bar and forget her life. Intimate relationships were nonexistent for her, with men coming in and out of her life quickly. When a man would show any sincere interest in her, she’d get rid of him. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, she didn’t trust fate. Putting faith in love meant that she’d have to be vulnerable, and like other things in life, what happiness she’d experience would be wiped out by the pain of when that person would leave or disappoint her. Lacking any real connection other than Carey, she’d count the days until Carey would come into town.

John just listened. After first making a brief comment and seeing Lexi’s irritated response, he just sat and didn’t say another word. He filled her glass every now and then, but after a couple more, she slowed her drinking as she lost herself in telling her own story.

Her long diatribe stopped when she mentioned her sister’s last visit. Shortly after that, the lights went out and the world changed forever. She sat, looked at her glass and drank it down swiftly.

John went to pour another, but she said, “I’ll be right back.” She abruptly stood, steadied herself from the alcohol-induced vertigo and marched towards the bathroom.

Lexi couldn’t get to the bathroom quick enough; it was if she was having an anxiety attack. She hadn’t told anyone so much. Opening up and being honest about who she was and where she came from was not a strong suit for her. She never had friends who took that type of interest. In fact, she liked them for that very reason. She had discovered it was easier to keep people at a distance because if she got to truly know someone, she would find herself not liking them.

When she walked back into the bar, John wasn’t there. She looked around but couldn’t find him. A loud clanging from the kitchen drew her attention; there she found him cracking eggs into a large skillet.

“Hey, you took a while in there.”

She leaned up against the wall and joked, “Must have been those Doritos.”

“You like fried eggs? I thought you could use some protein,” he said as he looked over the eggs cooking.

“Love eggs, thanks. So, what’s your story?”

“Not much to tell. Born just a few miles away, went to the local high school, married my high school sweetheart, got a job working for a lumber company but always wanted a place like this. My wife had other plans for her life; living in a small town became too much for her. She left me years ago, and instead of remarrying, I got this place. This here and all the loyal patrons have been my family since then.”

“No kids?”

“Nope, never was lucky enough.”

“Count your blessings. Believe me, we’re pains in the asses.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” he said as he gently slid a couple eggs on a plate.

She took the plate from him and smiled when she saw they were perfectly cooked sunny-side up.

He walked back and was cracking a couple more eggs for himself when she said, “Thanks, John.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

Lexi watched him work diligently. His large wrinkled hands firmly holding the spatula and the stained white apron tied around his waist made him look like a professional short-order cook, which in many ways he was, being the owner of a bar and grill.

“Anyone work for you?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen them for weeks now. I heard they went to Portland.”

With so much horror and cruelty in the world, here was a man who was gentle, sweet and generous. It was refreshing to meet someone like him.

Her journey since the EMP attack had destroyed the power grid and brought society to its knees had shown her extreme examples of good and bad. It was as if when the rule of law and the blanket of legal consequences were ripped away, those who were deeply flawed or evil people exposed themselves. They were always there, but without the threat of arrest, they took to the streets. This also played out on the opposite side as well, with many good people willing to risk and sacrifice. Even though she had experienced both, Lexi kept her guard up.

She looked down at the eggs again. The special attention and consideration to not just make eggs for her but to make them sunny-side up said a lot about John. She liked him.

“You better go eat those before they get cold. Utensils are just to the left of the cash register.”

Lexi left the kitchen, grabbed a fork and sat down. She went to poke the yolks but again looked at them. Never could she remember her mother doing this for her, but early memories of her father popped into her head. Her father was a busy man and was typically gone by the time she woke during the week, but her weekends were always special occasions. Not a Saturday would go by where she didn’t have something special cooked for her; pancakes, French toast or sunny-side up eggs was the typical fare on the menu. When her father moved out, she still got to experience this but less, as he only had her and Carey every other weekend. She resented her mother for driving her father away then denying him full access. It wasn’t that she cared, it was done more out of spite and so she could get more money. However, her father was clever and, of course, had a great attorney. He eventually won full custody, but then life showed up and he was lost forever. When the thought of her father dying came to mind, she dashed it while simultaneously slashing the yolks with the fork.

John came out from the kitchen and said, “Good?”

“Yeah, they’re great, thanks,” she said, grabbing the bottle and pouring another shot.

“You’re quite the drinker. How old are you?”