Chapter 8: Going to Stumps

8.

Dusk was starting to press on forest hills; the setting sun was playing off the buildings and trees, creating supernatural shadows. Chris commented on the eerie feeling that the pursuing darkness was giving him and Katrina laughed.

They reached Stumps in less than five minutes and were greeted at the door by a heavyset man testing the strength of a stool he was perched on. He opened the door when he saw Katrina approaching. She smiled and nodded in thanks before she walked through. Chris continued behind her but felt a hand press against his chest before he made it over the threshold.

“Identification.” The man said without looking at him, or removing his hand.

“Oh, yeah sure,” Chris pulled out his wallet and obliged the man.

“I knew you weren’t from around here,” He said, handing the card back to Chris. He waved Chris in. Chris realized the bouncer was profiling him instead of checking the legality of his attendance at the bar.

Once inside, Chris could see that the bar was named appropriately; to the left of the entrance--past the restroom--was a long burl-wood bar extending the entirety of the room. The bar stools were made out of tree stumps, this was the same for the tables, however, they were at least three feet in diameter. The inside of the building was made to look like a log cabin complete with heads of various animals and an old stove converted into a freezer for ice. On the far wall there was a hundred inch TV projecting the scene of a lake out a cabin window with jet skiers and boats passing through.

There were hardly any patrons in the bar, and the only two servers were chatting outside the kitchen; neither of them paying attention to the newcomers. Katrina didn’t know anyone in there so she lead the way over to the pool tables. After she put her purse down on top of a tall table in the corner--also carved out of a tall, skinny tree stump—she asked Chris: “You play?” Nodding towards the table.

“Uh, yeah I guess I can give a good rally.”

“Good. Will you rack ‘em?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What do you want from the bar?”

“Just a beer, whatever’s on tap,” Chris grabbed some quarters out of his pocket to insert into the table and was happy to see the tables didn’t cost anything; they were real billiard tables.

Katrina came back and set their drinks next to her purse.

“Thanks,” Chris sipped enough beer out of the glass to keep it from spilling. “You wanna break?”

“No, you go ahead.” She unwrapped a new pack of cigarettes and lit one.

Chris sunk two solids and moved onto his next shot. He lined up the shot with his cue before he bent over to take it.

Katrina took notice to his broad shoulders and lean back muscles. She was thinking of how long it had been since she had any mutual contact with a man. She shook the thought out of her head, taking a drag on her cigarette and closing her eyes. She heard the crack of the balls hitting, followed by the sound of a ball being pocketed. She exhaled, feeling the roughness of the smoke leaving her chest and throat. She opened her eyes.

“I sunk a high ball, it’s your go.” Chris smiled and passed the pool cue to her. She assessed her best shot and continued with the cigarette still hanging out of her mouth; the smoke making her squint.

Chris took notice and asked: “Why do you smoke anyways?”

She missed and passed the cue back to Chris. “It keeps me relaxed. Despite what you may think, I actually hate it but I get nervous and jittery sometimes for no reason. This keeps me calm and relaxed when that happens.”

“Do I make you jittery and nervous?” Chris asked coyly.

Katrina rolled her eyes.

As Chris was about to shoot the eight ball for the win, he saw Jerrid and Gregory walk through the bar door. Jerrid was showered and clean, but still looked un-done and tired. He glanced around scoping out the scene when his eyes rested on Chris and Katrina. He smirked at Chris and said something to Gregory that made them both laugh. They started to walk over and Chris missed his shot, sinking the white ball and losing by default.

The two men walked over to stand beside Katrina. “Aw, kid did we make you nervous?” Gregory laughed and Katrina hit them both on the chest. They seemed about as bothered as if a housefly bumped into them.

Gregory was just as big as Jerrid, but his build was more muscular. They both could have been brothers by the way they looked the same. Gregory had darker hair and lighter eyes and let his beard grow long on purpose, where Jerrid’s was just days of overgrowth.

“No way. I just miss-judged my shot.”

“Uh-Huh.”

“He’s actually quite good, he kicked my ass there for awhile.” Katrina vouched for him.

“Well, that’s not hard to do.” Gregory nudged her.

Jerrid cleared his throat, “Anyways, Greg this is that kid I told you about that you almost shot in the forest.”

“Oh, yeah. You were right: he does look like he could be infected; the frightened little look he has on his face.” Jerrid laughed, the cigarette smoke coming out his nose.

“Ok, you guys stop it. Why can’t you just play nice? He’s with me, he’s staying with Mama and I and we like him. Get over it.” Katrina took a step towards Chris and put her arm around his waist to show she was on his side. Chris was pleasantly surprised and wrapped his arm around her small shoulders.

A waitress in a green flannel-printed T-shirt and small brown shorts walked over to them. Her brown hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head and her make-up looked like it was put on last night before she went to bed. Chris imagined she was in her thirties, but looked about forty-five. He assumed it was from the habits one could obtain living in a small town and working in a bar.

“Hey Jerrid, I was hoping you’d come in tonight.”

“She doesn’t look like she was hoping to see anyone tonight,” Chris whispered to Katrina. She almost spit the drink out through her nose making the waitress glare at her. ...