If Walls Could Talk

I pushed my way, past double-doors, then through the heavy door at the end of a dark hallway. The low hum of patrons greeted my ears as I took a look around the decorated walls. A floor-to-ceiling display of bottles, showcasing various colored liquids, lined the shelves behind a gleaming bar manned by a dapper gentleman, who gave me a courteous nod. I nodded back, and my eyes swept to the left of the room, where small, circular tables and intimate booths took up the remaining space. Electric tea candles provided just enough light for some moody ambience.

No spots, huh?

With a click of my tongue, I made my way to the bar and took a seat on a plush, leather stool. I steepled my fingers as I perused the backlit bottles.

“What’ll you have tonight?” the bartender asked, laying down a cocktail napkin.

“Gimme a rye on the rocks.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“No, surprise me.”

He gave a nod and turned away from me to take stock. As he retrieved a bottle from a higher shelf, I glanced behind myself once more, scanning the room.

Still not here.

I peered down at my watch and saw that I was five minutes early. I looked back up to see if any of the patrons appeared suspicious, and how far into their drinks they were. Except for an elderly couple looking at me from across the room, the crowd paid me no mind. A soft thunk brought my attention back to the bartender. He gestured to a freshly poured whiskey over a decorative cube. I murmured my thanks as I picked up my glass, my stare swiveling back to the room’s other recesses. Another couple were just leaving their booth, so I snagged their table. Shortly after, the door opened, and in strode a man with an attaché case.

About time.

We made eye contact, and he headed toward the bar. As I waited for him to get his order, I took a small sip of my rye. The smokiness washed over my tongue as I held the amber liquid between my cheeks, swishing it around before swallowing with an exhalation.

Not bad at all.

“What did you get?”

I looked up to see the man sitting down across from me. Benji. An old acquaintance who only ever called me up when he needed something he couldn’t get himself.

“Don’t know. Asked for a surprise. Tastes pretty good though.”

He grunted, setting his drink down with a thud. “Let’s get right to it.”

No preamble, no niceties, no time to remark about the weather. That was Benji. I watched as he opened his attaché and pulled out a manila envelope. Eying his open case warily, I took another small sip, letting the whiskey coat my tongue. The alcohol burned a little less this time around.

“I need you to do something for me,” Benji told me in a hushed voice as he slid the packet toward me, glancing around the room nonchalantly. I nodded for him to continue, not picking up the envelope. “A friend needs this taken care of by Tuesday night.”

“It’s Friday. Why can’t your ‘friend’ be more mindful about my social life?” I joked as I gazed into my glass; the fancy ice cube was melting fast.

“Because she’s got more money than you and me combined.”

“Hey now, I can afford this very nice whiskey here.”

“Point is,” Benji stared at me pointedly as he picked up his glass, “she wants it done by Tuesday. Call the number when you’re finished.”

I took a deeper sip, swallowing with a quick inhale through my nose and a slow breath out of my mouth. I felt goosebumps and a slight chill down my spine.

“It’s not the same friend as before, is it?” I set the glass down and inspected my nails, waiting for a response that didn’t come. “Because I distinctly remember that should’ve been the last time.”

“Well, things changed. Now she wants your help again.”

“Benji…”

“Look,” he cut me off before taking a swig of his cocktail. “I cut you a deal to make up for it, eh? Twenty percent more than last time. You can buy a whole bottle of whatever you’re drinking and then some.” He pointed to the bar at large.

I gave him a measured stare. With a sigh, I picked up my glass. “Fine,” I answered before finishing my drink. “I’ll do it.” I set the glass down on the table, ice cube jingling merrily, and picked up the envelope. “But just so your friend knows, she’s set a precedent that the next time will be even higher.”

Standing up, I fished my wallet out of my pocket, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, and tossed it in front of Benji. I gave him a nod and strode to the door, giving a curt wave to the bartender.

As I opened the door, the electric chatter of a busy restaurant assaulted my ears, a stark contrast to the more subdued environment I was leaving behind. I strode through the hallway, making my way back to the double doors I had entered from earlier. As I approached the restaurant’s exit, the bar’s heavy door melted seamlessly into the wallpaper that concealed it completely.

I should come back.