Destiny Calling
creature that killed Tessa had an unpleasant feeling about them.
    Griffith continued to stare, as if looking into my very soul. I’d like to ask him what he saw, if only to satisfy my curiosity. Otherwise, his interest was making me uncomfortable, especially with an audience.
    “Did she send you?” Griffith’s deep baritone brought me back from my concern regarding the essence of my soul. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s not safe. You don’t understand enough yet because you’re not from around here.”
    Jerking my arm down freed my hand from his grip. The ghost of his touch lingered on my skin. I forced some confidence into my swagger as his gaze followed me back into the bar.
    Opening what I assumed was the ladies’ room door with the word Babes painted on the old wood, choosing it over door number two labeled Bikers, I said, “I am now.”
    ****
    “Nobody workin’?” A spindly legged, barrel-bodied woman called out. With a huff of breath, the cotton-candy textured hair escaping the long braid hanging over her shoulder rose, exposing a wrinkled forehead. Despite sagging skin on age-spotted arms, she hoisted two bags of groceries onto the counter with one hand.
    I’d stayed in the restroom long enough for Griffith to leave. When the roar of a motorcycle announced his departure, I hustled out, unable to resist peering out the window at his retreating form straddling the same huge, black motorcycle he rode in my dreams. He slid into the studded, leather jacket hanging over the handlebars. With not one strand of his wavy, black hair out of place, he was a man worthy of dreaming about, except when the dream turned into a nightmare.
    He tore down the road, spraying gravel and slushy snow as he went.
    Who rides a motorcycle in April? Trouble all right. Like I didn’t have enough.
    Ritchie swiveled his stool. “Hey, Ruthie, what took you so long? You missed all the fun.”
    “How could that be? I’m here now. That’s when the party gets started.” Ruthie gyrated her wide hips, which strained against khaki shorts and a stained Kiss the Cook! apron.
    She laughed, while strolling to the interior of the bar. With her free hand, she straightened the baskets of peanuts then refilled the napkins without stopping, as if having difficulty containing the energy within. “What’s up?”
    “Bob’s outta here,” Chief said.
    “I’m surprised it took you that long,” Ruthie said. “He’s a nice fella, but working here isn’t the best environment for him.”
    She turned so quickly her braid smacked her in the chin, her movements slowing as she approached me. Peering through thick, pop-bottled glasses, her blue eyes looked like a deranged fish. “Well, I’ll be.”
    Shaking her head, Ruthie squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. “It’s about time, I say. Who might you be, girl? What do you call yourself, that is?” Ruthie extended a hand in greeting.
    I didn’t touch her hand. “I’m Bob’s replacement, Hope. The new bartender.”
    “Sure you are. Hmmm, makes sense.” She lowered her hand. Taking a step back, she pulled out a glass and filled it with seltzer and ice, chugged the drink, then slapped the glass onto the counter.
    Chief shrugged and slid off the barstool to head down the hallway adjacent to the bar. Wearing a scowl, he shook his head. “Don’t be long with a bunch of women talk, Ruthie. You gotta get some fixin’s started in the kitchen. Send her to Mrs. Shaw after you say your hellos and all.”
    “Bob Hope, huh?” Without taking her eyes off me, she reached under the bar and located the seltzer to refill her drink. “You have a place to stay yet, Bob Hope?” As she waited for my reply, she filled and straightened things above and below the counter.
    Where does she find the energy? “Well, I…”
    Ruthie pulled a key ring out of her pocket and bent toward me, the smell of grease emanated from her pores. Swiftly flipping through the keys, she slid one off and pushed the key

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