And I’m not the only one to think that way. But while people exercised the First Amendment, there was never any trouble. No rioting or protesting. People just discussed it and decided as communities what they wanted to do and believe in, and Cunningham’s White House encouraged it.
The guy is a genius.
And that’s the world we live in now. It’s certainly made it easier for me to start over. Everybody is, to some extent, so it doesn’t feel strange for me to leave my old life in the past and begin a new one.
In the time it took me to catch you up, I’ve managed to do my shopping, so I’m walking back down the street toward my bar. A few doors before The Ferryman is a companion club. The place looks amazing, to be fair. The facilities are clean, there’s healthcare advice at the front desk, and a few of the guys and girls who work there often come in for a drink after their shifts are over. They’re nice people. One of the girls, Laura, is a good friend of Tori’s, and always fusses over Styx when she comes in.
One of the things some people did struggle with was changing their perception of the people who work as companions. But they soon came round, and now working there is no different from working the pump at a gas station or the checkout of your local supermarket.
Crazy days we’re living in…
I walk back into the bar and see Tori behind the counter, cleaning some glasses from the night before.
“Hey babe,” she says with that earth-shattering smile of hers. “You get everything?”
I look at her admiringly. She’s wearing very short denim shorts and a Metallica T-shirt. Could a woman be any hotter?
I hold up the two bags in my right hand. “Sure did,” I reply. “Should cover us until the delivery at the end of the week.”
“Just put it on the bar. I’ll fill the shelves when I’m done with the glasses.”
I smile and do as she says. “You want some breakfast?” I ask as I walk over to the back. “Bacon and eggs or something?”
“Sounds great,” she replies.
As I look at her, I catch a glimpse out the window at a car parked across the street. It’s an anonymous white rental. It’s facing to the right, and with the window down, I can see who’s sitting in the passenger seat. He’s wearing mirrored sunglasses, and has thick dark hair with a couple of days’ worth of stubble. He’s staring at the bar. Staring straight at me, through the window. Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze for a few moments before turning to the driver, who I can’t see. They drive off, casually.
“You okay?” asks Tori, who must have seen me looking distracted.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine darlin’… Bacon and eggs comin’ right up.” I smile, convince her I’m okay, and then walk into the back.
I have a small kitchen area set up there, more for personal use than anything, as not many of my patrons ask for food. I get some bacon out of the refrigerator and put four slices in the frying pan.
I try to focus on what I'm doing, but my mind's now fixating on that car. It’s been a while since my spider sense tingled, but something definitely wasn’t right. I’ve scoped a place out enough times in my past to be able to spot someone else doing it. I’ve never seen them, or the car, before, and they were definitely checking my bar out… I know everyone in town. I don’t know them, and that worries me…
Ah, I must be going crazy in my old age…
I smile to myself and think how far I’ve come in the last couple of years. So what if I get a little paranoid once in a while? After the life I’ve had, can you blame me?
3
The day passes the way most others do — quickly and stress-free. The sun’s beginning its descent outside, and the bar’s filling up nicely as people’s working days come to an end, and the need for a good beer takes hold.
Beside Tori and me, I employ a couple of other bar staff. Phil’s a great guy, hardworking and usually serves behind the bar. He’s also a doorman over at the companion club down the street. He’s a big fella, well put together and quite tall. He’s always got his black hair styled with all sorts of different products, which I take the piss out of regularly, but he’s a tough guy and can back you up when you need him to.
Nicki’s a nice girl, and a student by day. She takes every spare shift she can while studying at college. Something to do with psychology, I think. She tried to tell me about it once, but I didn’t understand a word of it. I remember laughing, because it reminded me what it used to be like working with Josh. She’s cute, and ridiculously friendly — all the locals love her. Even Styx will make a point of going to her and saying hello when she walks in.
It’s a quiet night so far, compared to the last couple. Most of the tables are full, but no one is standing, and the jukebox is silent. Tori and Nicki are working the floor, collecting empties and delivering new drinks. Standing behind the bar, I listen to the low, idle chatter from people’s tables.
I turn to reach for a clean glass off the shelf as the door swings open behind me. As I look back and put the glass under the pump, ready to pull a beer, I see three guys standing in front of me. The one in the middle I recognize immediately — he’s the guy with the shades from the car this morning.
I should never question my spider sense…
Either side of him is a guy that I take as being the hired muscle to his diplomat. I look at each one of them in turn, briefly, before going back to pulling the beer, doing my best to keep calm and resist any temptation to act before I think, like the old me would’ve done.
“What can I get you gentleman?” I ask.
The one in the middle replies, “A few minutes of your time, Adrian Hell.”
Huh… I’ve not been called that in a long time… Looks like the old me is in demand all of a sudden. How do they know who I used to be?
My eyes narrow as I focus on his accent, trying to work out where he’s from. He sounds Russian… no, Ukrainian. Definitely Ukrainian. His two friends say nothing, but I study them anyway. Both men look like career muscle. But oddly, neither looks like they’re the same nationality as the guy in the middle. The one on the left looks like he could be Middle Eastern, while the one on the right actually looks American.
There goes my spider sense again…
I stay calm, finishing off the beer and setting it down on the bar.
“Think you’re in the wrong place,” I say. “Nobody by that name here.”
The middle guy’s jacket is open, and he brushes it to the side, revealing a holstered gun. Looks like a Glock.
“I think I’m in the right place,” he says, firmer this time. “Don’t make things hard for yourself.”
I smile as I glance over his shoulder, watching Tori talk to a table of locals.
“Only thing ’round here that makes things hard for me is serving a customer behind you. I’ll say again, there ain’t no Adrian Hell here. You’re in the wrong place, and you should leave… now.”
“I was told you might be… reluctant to talk to us. Do I have to convince you?”
I quickly survey the room — twenty-two customers and three staff, plus me and Styx. Three unknown hostiles, one of them definitely armed. There’s a bar between us, and I’m not as young as I used to be, so vaulting over it is out of the question.
Not the best situation I’ve ever been in, but far from the worst.
I glance back over at Tori, who’s looking over at me with a concerned expression. She can read me like a book, and she knows when something’s bothering me. And right now, something’s really bothering me. Namely, the safety of everyone in my bar… And not just that. Tori doesn’t know anything about my past. She doesn’t know I used to be married and had a daughter, she doesn’t know I’d been in the military for over half my life, and she doesn’t know I used to be the world’s most elite assassin. All of which is information I’d rather stay unknown to her.