Chapter 9

Five minutes passed before Brandon heard the soft landing of footsteps in the door way. He’d corrected his posture a bit, assuring himself that Eve probably wasn’t going to climb out the window of the second floor bathroom to avoid him. He wouldn’t have blamed her, but it did seem a bit melodramatic. He glanced up, half expecting it to be the waitress returning to take their order (assuming Tony hadn’t relayed the message) or maybe just to refresh his conspicuously empty drink. It wasn’t; Eve floated through the doorway with the same grace she’d used to leave.

“Sorry about that,” Eve’s delivery indicated no knowledge of Brandon’s internal turmoil in her absence.

“No need at all, I’m um… I’m sorry,” Brandon thought it best to clear that air instead of ignoring his error.

“Okay, stop… you have nothing to be sorry about, let’s just forget it and have a nice evening? Unless I’ve sufficiently convinced you that I’m a lunatic and you’d rather throw in the towel now…” She trailed off as her vision set on his empty glass, “you didn’t think I was coming back… did you?”

“What? I don’t know what you’re…”

“You’re a terrible liar.” She interrupted.

“The thought crossed my mind,” Brandon admitted with an exhale. He looked down again at his plate.

“I spent a solid minute in the bathroom wondering if you’d still be sitting here when I got back,” Eve smiled as she reached across the table and laid her hand down palm up. She looked at him with expectation; Brandon placed his hand on top of hers.

“What the hell are we doing here?” Brandon decided to be direct.

“I… have no idea,” Eve seemed disappointed by her own uncertainty, “but I’m glad we are.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Brandon answered just as the waitress appeared in the doorway with a large tray. Brandon could smell the steak before she reached the table and his mouth started to water. It suddenly occurred to him that in his excitement, he’d neglected to eat.

“This looks incredible!” Eve declared as a plate with two lobster tails and a filet mignon replaced the previously empty space between her silverware.

“I should have known you wouldn’t run off before the main course,” Brandon joked, but the hurt expression on Eve’s face told him she didn’t see the humor.

“That’s not why I stayed…” she began to counter.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry… it was a joke, I…”

“I can’t tell if you’re really good at this, or absolutely terrible,” Eve laughed at his stammering.

“I can’t tell either,” Brandon laughed a bit with her. They both grew silent as they took a few bites of their meal. It was easily the best thing Brandon had eaten in months, though that wasn’t saying much as his diet usually consisted of whatever he could cook without removing from a can or was provided free at locals bars. He suddenly felt a bit better about the deal he’d made with Tony. The waitress appeared once more with fresh drinks for each of them, though Eve still had a half a martini to go.

“I suppose I’ve got some catching up to do,” she smiled to Brandon before swigging away the remainder of her first martini and exhaling her satisfaction. Brandon smiled, this girl could drink. That was a good thing. Their conversation steered toward lighter fare: how much they were each enjoying their meal, Brandon explaining the shore excursion he envisioned for the restaurant, Eve told him about her hometown back in the states. Pittsfield, Massachusetts, Brandon learned, was not the most exciting place to grow up, which Eve credited with her decision to travel to the third world as a part of her studies.

“Where are you from originally?” She changed the subject away from her childhood.

“I…” Brandon paused, realizing he was so at ease with the conversation that he’d almost made the egregious error of telling the truth, “Toronto,” He corrected.

“Canada? For some reason I just pegged you for an American,” Eve responded.

“My dad was, my mom taught at a small community college. It’s a big enough city, but I guess I felt that same need to get away and see what else was out there,” Like anyone who lied for a living, Brandon sprinkled in bits of the truth where he could – it kept everything easier to remember. He’d told so many lies with so many bits of his own truth in them, he sometimes wondered how much of anything he remembered was real anymore.

“So what did you find?” Eve spoke between bites.

“That people are the same wherever you go, really. Cultures change, languages change, but people don’t.” Brandon took a sip of his drink.

“Is that good or bad?” Eve stopped eating, seemingly quite interested in what he had to say.

Brandon shrugged, “depends on the people. Most people don’t fit into the category of ‘good guy’ or ‘bad guy.’ Life is too complicated for solid allegiances like that, but the players are the same wherever you go. The ambitious business men like Tony, the bullies like your friend I met earlier today,”

“And me?” Eve interrupted him as much with her beautiful blue eyes as with her words.

“I can’t really get a good read on you. Maybe that’s why I’m so interested,” Brandon postulated.

“Is that it then? You think I’m unique? Something to be studied.” She smiled, clearly poking fun at Brandon’s discomfort answering questions about her. Brandon opted to joke in return.

“Well, the way your butt looks in jeans doesn’t hurt either.” He chuckled a bit, desperately hoping she’d laugh along with him.

“So you were checking out my ass? Well, Mr. Webb, that is highly inappropriate,” she stood up from the table and tossed her napkin onto her nearly cleared plate, “ogling a lady such as myself! I am offended, you’re going to have do something for me to make this right.” She stood with her hands on her hips. Brandon was nearly certain she was kidding, but a little terrified that she wasn’t.

“What’s that?” He answered while preparing mentally for the worst.

“I want to dance.” She said firmly, tapping her foot for emphasis. This was almost worse than her being angry… Brandon could hold his own to a slow tune, but if she was expecting him to do much more, he would be in real trouble. He opted to feign confidence instead of admitted his terror.

“Okay, but I get to pick the music.” He hoped his plan would work.

“Hmmmm… I guess we have a deal,” her beautiful smile made him feel like a child eager for approval. He stood and placed his napkin atop his plate, a smile he couldn’t control splashed across his face as he stepped out from behind the table and took her outstretched hand. The two walked back through the door to find their waitress wiping glasses down behind the bar.

“Can you play us some music?” Eve called over to her from across the dance floor.

“Of course, Senora, what kind of music would you like?” She looked up from her work. Eve looked to Brandon.

“Got any Sinatra?” He prayed she did. Eve smiled coyly, and eyed Brandon like she was sizing him up, “what?” He asked her.

“You’re just full of surprises.” She closed the distance between them and hugged her body against his right arm.

“Yes of course!” The waitress stepped out from behind the bar and approached what looked like a podium to their right. She opened the laptop sitting on top of it and pressed a button on a stereo receiver built into the wooden cabinet. A slight buzz that filled the air indicated that the speakers were active, before she eliminated the sound by turning one of the newly lit knobs to the left. A minute later, “My Way” by Frank Sinatra began to play. It was Brandon’s favorite.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard this song,” Eve admitted as Brandon stepped out onto the wooden dance floor and lifted his left hand into the air, inviting her to place hers within it.

“Well then you’re in for a treat,” Brandon told her as she took his hand and placed her other on his shoulder.

“I certainly am.” She said as they locked eyes. Brandon took a step and she followed. He wasn’t a great dancer, but he could carry the beat and usually avoid stepping on any toes. They danced back and forth slowly, covering only a small portion of the dance floor and with each step Brandon could feel her body coming a bit closer to his, even if only a bit. She smelled like flowers in the springtime just after a light rain and her hand was soft and warm. When she was close enough, he slid his hand from her hip to her lower back. They didn’t speak for a minute, just swayed back and forth with the music. She laid her head on his shoulder for the second time that night. She fit so perfectly in his arms, like two puzzle pieces, he wished the song would last the rest of the night, but of course, it couldn’t.

As the song ended, they lingered in their embrace for a moment before Brandon stepped back and thanked her for the dance with a kiss on the hand.

“The consummate gentleman,” Eve kidded him.

“I was only stepping back because I was afraid you were going to put the moves on me,” Brandon joked back. Eve’s smile faded.

“Like this?” She stepped toward him, closing the distance Brandon had granted them, and pressed her lips into his. He hesitated for a split second, a bit out of surprise and a bit because it had been so long since he’d felt lips touching his. The hesitation was brief, though. Brandon wrapped his arms around Eve and pressed his lips back into hers. They stood there for a long minute, reveling in one another’s embrace before they each pulled their heads back slightly.

“I really shouldn’t have done that,” Eve’s eyes were locked with Brandon’s.

“I shouldn’t have either…” Brandon’s heart was racing.

“What now?” She asked him, a twinkle of fear in her eyes. Brandon tried to think of an answer, but he didn’t honestly know what to tell himself either. He spent a long two seconds considering his options before leaning his head down and pressing his lips into hers once more. They kissed again, oblivious to the waitress uncomfortably busying herself with tidying up the bar, ignoring the weight of their actions, sinking deeper into the depths of what felt right, regardless of what truly was. When it ended, they both chuckled a bit. Brandon let his embrace loosen and his arms fell to his sides, keeping his hands placed on Eve’s hips. Her hands rested on his shoulders with her forearms falling gently onto his chest.

“How about a drink?” Brandon broke the silence.

“You read my mind,” Eve smiled. Her face was a bit flush. Brandon blushed at the realization that he’d made her do the same. They both looked over to their bartender, “I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks.”

“Whiskey, huh?” Brandon laughed a bit at her order.

“It always makes me a better dancer,” She smiled at him playfully.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Brandon referenced a movie from the eighties Eve had probably never heard of. The bartender smiled and nodded without a word. She turned to the liquor shelves and pulled a bottle down off the top shelf.

They walked to the bar and picked up their glasses. Brandon turned to his right and faced Eve, leaning on the bar. She turned toward him and raised her glass, “a toast?”

“To what?” Brandon raised his glass too.

“To you. Here’s to Brandon Webb, the most intriguing man I’ve ever met.” She raised her glass a bit higher. For the first time, hearing her say the name Brandon Webb hurt. That was the man she was here with, the man she was kissing, and dancing the night away alongside. Brandon Webb was winning this beautiful woman over, and she could never know that it wasn’t him. He smiled and raised his glass to tap hers.

“To both of us,” he corrected her.

“To both of us,” she nodded. They both took a long sip from their whiskey before placing the glasses back on the table. Brandon gasped a bit as the brown poison burned its way down his throat. Eve coughed lightly, pressing her hand to hers.

“Good stuff.” Brandon lifted his glass to smell it.

“I guess so,” Eve laughed. She picked up her glass one more time and brought it to her lips. Not about to be outdone, Brandon did the same. She finished the last of the glass before pulling it from her lips. Brandon had been watching as he sipped and followed suit. They both slammed the glasses back to the dark wood of the bar and gasped for air.

“Have anything with a faster beat?” Eve looked to the bartender.

“Si, of course,” she smiled and walked back toward the laptop. Eve took Brandon by the hand and led him back out to the center of the dance floor. They stood there for a minute before a saxophone erupted from the speakers. Drums and a guitar followed and Eve pulled Brandon close to her. She began to move with the music, taking his hands into hers and guiding them in the air as it became apparent that he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Not used to dancing to something this quick paced?” Eve kidded him.

“You’re lucky I haven’t fallen down yet,” Brandon laughed. She turned around and backed into him, crossing his hands over her and bringing them down onto her waist. Brandon reveled in her proximity, trying to keep his feet and hips moving to the music. She stepped out from him to spin, returning to her original position facing him. The two danced and laughed through three more songs before they agreed that they needed a break. They walked back to the bar hand in hand and ordered another round of whiskeys.

“You’re not as bad a dancer as you try to be,” Eve laughed as Brandon took a sip from his glass.

Brandon laughed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Once you climb outta that head of yours, you can move pretty well.” She cozied herself up to him at the bar.

“Sometimes it can be hard to get me out of there, I guess,” he agreed with her.

“I seem to be doing a pretty good job of it,” she spoke almost into her ear. He turned to face her and they kissed again. This one went slowly and lightly. When she pulled away this time, she looked at the floor instead of him.

“Are you okay?” Brandon asked her.

“It’s just… I’m having a great time, Brandon, I really am…” Her face turned red.

“But you can’t do this…” Brandon already knew where this was going.

“I’m sorry Brandon, this isn’t fair to you. I’m such an idiot,” she pulled away from him. Her eyes were looking around, but she was actively avoiding his gaze.

“It’s okay, Eve. I understand. It was nice while it lasted, but real life is still waiting for us out there,” he said to himself as much as her. It seemed to be little comfort to either.

“Then let’s stay in here for a just a little bit longer?” Now she looked at him, through him even.

“That sounds just fine to me.” She cozied back into him with their backs leaned on the bar. The two looked out the glass doors at the stars for a few minutes silently. Brandon tried his best not to think. He wanted to appreciate being close to her, remember what it was like to have her in his arms, hang on to this moment for as long as he could, but then it was over.

“I guess I should be getting home,” sadness rained from her words.

“Yeah, let’s get you home.” He echoed, trying to sound strong. He pulled a folded up bill from his pocket and placed it on the bar for the bartender. She nodded to him from her position a few feet away, a solemn look in her eyes as though she’d been rooting for him. He nodded back and escorted Eve out the door.

The moon was high in the sky as they left The Skytop. The air was warm and perfect for a pleasant evening stroll. Neither of them said a word as they walked, but they held hands. Brandon knew in his heart that it would be the last time he held her hand; he kept his focus on its soft warmth. They passed Ramon’s coffee shop, then Jose Macyntires, past the few dim lights seeping through closed shutters from those who lived in their places of business and into an area of town lit only by the full moon overhead. Eve squeezed Brandon’s hand and he looked down to her, hoping she might be asking for one last kiss. The look on her face made it clear she wasn’t. Her eyes were wide and looking in the distance ahead of them. He followed her gaze forward to find the tour guide he’d had a run in wth earlier that day approaching. He was with two friends, each flanking one of his sides, one with a board in his hand. Brandon stopped in his tracks and assessed the situation. They were too close to run from, even if he could count on Eve to run in those heels. Maybe he could talk them out of whatever they planned to do.

“Nice night,” Brandon spoke confidently in their direction.

“Not that nice,” the bully said in return. Suddenly Brandon heard the sound of footsteps behind them. He turned quickly to find two more men closing in from behind. How had he missed this? How could he let some punks get the drop on them? He was appalled at his failure to see this coming. He’d been so focused on Eve, so focused on feeling good if only just for tonight, that he’d lost track of his training, lost track of the real world. The more you are one thing, the less you are something else, he thought. Brandon was more in love than he was a trained intelligence agent: more a fool than either of them. He let go of Eve’s hand and twisted his head to let his neck crack.

“Run.” He said to her through clenched teeth and the corner of his mouth, eyes still locked on the ring leader he’d roughed up earlier.

“What about you?” Her concern was palpable.

“Get the police, tell them to bring paramedics,” he stepped away from her to emphasize his need for her to leave.

“What are you going to do?”

“The paramedics will be for me. Now run!” He let his voice rise into a yell that seemed to snap her out of her concerned confusion and sent her running. One of the men lurched for her and Brandon stepped his way and threw his fist at his jaw as hard as he could, it filled the air with a loud crack that sent the man sprawling backward on onto the ground.

In the split second that followed, Brandon span his head around and tried to get a complete picture of the situation. He hoped he might notice a way out, a weakness, anything that might save him from what was about to happen. There were five men, none much bigger than the other but one carrying a two-by-four inch piece of wood that Brandon recognized as the biggest threat to his survival. The man who held it had a darker complexion than the rest, but didn’t look especially foreign. A tattoo that from this distance looked remarkably like a spider adorned the man’s right hand, in which he held the board. Their fearless leader, still standing front and center looked the least at ease with the confrontation. He was the mouth, not the fists. The two men approaching from behind shared the hardened, grizzled face of men that had grown up fighting in the back alleys of Honduras. Of the five, the leader seemed to be the least dangerous, but Brandon knew taking him out allotted the best opportunity at running the others off.

“Fuck him up!” One man yelled from behind and Brandon spun, catching him, in the head with an elbow, but not before another man caught him in the side of the head with a fist. It hit his ear and Brandon brought his hand up to cover it as another man kicked the back of his knee. Brandon collapsed and he heard Eve scream from her vantage point thirty or so feet away. He looked up at her, panic in his eyes.

“Run!” He screamed as the man with the board brought it down from shoulder height across Brandon’s back. He fell onto his face and looked up, he could see the bottom of Eve’s legs as she ran, thank God, he thought as he rolled onto his back to find four men standing over him with a fifth slowly rising back to his feet behind them.

“You think you’re a real tough guy, huh gringo?” The ringleader taunted.

“Why don’t you send your friends home and you and I can discuss it?” Brandon glared at him. The men spoke to each other in Spanish that Brandon only barely understood, either because they were speaking too quickly or because of his concussion. He was pretty sure he heard the word “death” though. Brandon decided not to spend any more time trying to figure it out, he reached his right arm out and around the leg of the closest man, twisted and brought his left forearm down into the back of his knee. The man came down on top of Brandon, with his ankle in Brandon’s arms. He hoped the man would the board would hesitate to swing it at one of his friends, and so far, he seemed to be right. Before the rest of the men could react, Brandon wrapped his arms around the man’s foot and twisted, breaking the bones in his ankle and, Brandon knew, rendering him useless in the fight even if he didn’t go into shock.

The man screamed in pain and Brandon rolled him off of himself and began to scurry backward on his rear end, until he had enough space to get back to his feet. Before he could fully stand, the ringleader of the group dove through Brandon, wrapping his arms around him and bringing both of them to the ground with a thud. Brandon was back on his rear end and the ring leader’s shoulder in his gut. Brandon wrapped his left arm down and around the man’s neck, squeezing as hard as he could. If Brandon had the leverage, he would have broken his neck, but the best he could muster was choking him enough to hear his labored breathing and attempts at swearing. Before he could readjust, one of the other men kicked Brandon in the face, putting him flat on his back once more. The man he’d been choking rolled away and Brandon was once again sprawling to get back to his feet. This time he managed to create enough distance to right himself and raise his fists. The man with the broken ankle lay in a heap a few feet behind the rest, whimpering softly in Spanish. The other four lined up next to one another and began to approach him again.

Brandon considering running, but knew his knee wouldn’t hold up. He’d make it ten paces or so before the four of them were on him from behind. He could only hope the police would get here before they killed him. He looked around frantically for a weapon.

“We weren’t going to kill you, gringo… but maybe that’s the only thing that’ll teach you,” one of the previously silent men spoke up. He wore a leather jacket that he must have thought made him look tough despite it being eighty degrees out.

“We can all just walk away right now,” Brandon hoped to reason with them, “nobody else has to get hurt.”

“Shut the fuck up,” the ringleader spat. He threw a wild punch toward Brandon that he was able to slap away before returning one of his own. It stunned the man and if there weren’t three others Brandon would have followed it up with more, but he quickly hopped backward, trying to stay out of range of the board. It was beginning to look like the police weren’t going to make it before things got really bad. Brandon knew his survival depended on taking that board out of the equation. He put his hands up.

“Listen, you guys win… you win, I give up,” he began to speak. Their leader started to laugh but before he could muster another weak insult, Brandon leapt at the man with the board. He caught him by surprise, but he still managed a weak swing with the board, catching Brandon’s face, but not hard enough to deter the attack. Brandon drove his forehead into the man’s nose as hard as he could and they both fell to the ground. His grip on the board softened and Brandon ripped it from his hand, swinging it wildly as spun back to his feet. The other three men who had been closing in on him backed up. Brandon didn’t give them a chance to speak, taking the three steps that separated them and swinging the board faster than he would have thought he could muster. He caught the ring leader across the face and he fell silently with a crunch. The man to his right jumped onto Brandon, grabbing his arms and keeping him from swinging again. They both fell to the ground and before Brandon could mount an offensive, he caught a kick to the side of the face from the last standing man. The other jumped back to his feet and began kicking him as well. Brandon curled into the fetal position, careful to keep the board tight in his grip, waiting for an opportunity to use it again, or at worst, just keep them from using it on him. He glanced up, with terrible timing and caught a heel in the face, just above his left eye. Everything went black and Brandon struggled to regain his vision. He couldn’t go out, they’d kill him, he was sure of it. He fought the overwhelming sleepiness, struggled to open his eyes and made out what looked like the two men who’d been kicking him helping their downed leader to his feet. He didn’t look conscious. Brandon’s vision blurred too much to see anything clearly and he once more struggled against the wave of darkness. This time though, it was too much. Brandon passed out.