Crank pushes open the dual panels of the saloon door. Using his infrared mask to scan for any threats, he is satisfied that they are alone. Crank takes a heavy step into the saloon and Simone follows closely behind. Paul hobbles in behind Simone. Spying the bar, Paul’s face stretches into a big goofy grin.
“Ah…It’s Heaven,” Paul whispers, while rubbing his hands together in a greedy gesture. “Excuse me, ladies and gents. I’ve got work to do.”
Simone calls out to the drunken lumberjack in disappointment.
"You said...We'd be meeting new friends. That there'd be people here. I don't see...Anyone. This place doesn't look like anyone has been here in ages, Paul!"
"Never said there'd be people," Paul snickers. "Who the hell needs 'em anyway? I've got all the friends I need."
With another snicker, Paul moves toward the bar and goes behind it. He pulls bottles from beneath the bar, and from a shelf on the wall, examining them closely. He wipes at the dust obscuring the labels. Most of the bottles are completely empty or only have a few swallows left in the bottom. The empty bottles, Paul replaces on the shelf. The bottles with a little left, Paul places on the bar counter in a line. Once he has determined that the bar is extremely lacking in alcoholic elixirs, he leans against the counter and opens the bottles there. He pours the alcohol he found into one large whiskey container. It isn’t much. Paul considers searching elsewhere for more, but settles on what he’s already got.
Simone watches him with revulsion, her mouth twisted in an expression of disgust. She eventually ignores Paul’s antics and shifts her attention back to Crank. Crank moves about the room, inspecting it with his infrared. Simone wonders what he sees with that mask. Was he really seeing anything? Or are his thoughts elsewhere? What is he thinking and feeling even now?
Simone spies a staircase leading upstairs. Such quarters were usually reserved for the saloon girls who made the bar its money. Maybe even the owner of the saloon. There might be some useful things up there. A bed or two at least. Simone glances over at Crank, but he still seems to be absorbed in his exploration. Simone takes the steps one at a time, eventually losing sight of the large yautja.
-
-
Simone enters the first room she finds. The curtains are drawn and light filters in from holes created by either moths, age, or both. Simone walks over to the window and draws back the curtains. Dust floats before her eyes like energetic spiritual orbs. She uses her right wrist to wipe deposits from the window. The view isn’t exactly beautiful. Sand, sand, and more sand. Stepping away from the window, Simone turns and puts a hand on her hip. She sucks on her teeth and sighs.
Opening every drawer in the room, and checking on every shelf, Simone finds nothing of any immediate use. She decides to search another room.
As she walks cautiously down the hall, a repetitive squeaking noise fills the air. Simone enters the nearest room and peers out of the window. A sign flaps noisily in the wind, spinning on a rusted broken chain. Simone backs away from the window and sighs heavily.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
A memory of her little girls fills her mind. April, barely three, and Darlene turning nine soon. How they loved to swing on her late uncle's old swing. The swing was attached by a lengthy chain to a strong oak; and looked older than the three of them combined. Probably was. The girls would giggle and snort as she spun them around on the swing. Their tiny legs kicking in the air. Sometimes, they would all pretend to be airplanes flying high in the clear blue sky.
She also remembers how they would grow silent whenever Terrence stepped out onto the back porch. Terrence isn't a bad man. Not entirely. He simply doesn't know when to quit or adhere to boundaries. That doesn't make him bad? Does it?
Besides, he had given her two beautiful young daughters. Even if she barely sees them anymore. There is always a chance that things can get better. Although, she'll be damned if she'll ever run back to him. Not after everything. They'd had some good times together, him and her. But it hadn't been enough. Where had she gone wrong?
Backing fully out of the room, Simone doesn't even remember to search it for hidden loot.
-
-
Simone finally strikes personal pay dirt during her third search. Reaching up to grab a nicely wrapped box from a top shelf, Simone pulls it down. The box has a gift tag on it, but the paper is so old, and the ink so smeared, that Simone is unable to read it. She blows on the box and a cloud of dust flies off of it.
“Obviously, someone was trying to get in good with one of the ladies,” Simone says with a smile. “He should have known better. Never mix business with pleasure.”
Simone sits down on the bed and places the box on the worn mattress beside her. She carefully unties the ribbon, which is frayed and dingy from age. A loud gasp escapes her lips when she lifts the box’s lid and glimpses what is inside.
Setting the box lid on the mattress, Simone uses both hands to lift out a gorgeous ballgown. The gown is a combination of various shades of blue, mostly light blue, and looks almost untouched by its age and harsh storage conditions. Simone stands and places the dress against her body. She strolls toward a dirty mirror in the corner and turns from side to side.
“Oh…Wow…It’s beautiful—” Simone coos admiringly.
After another moment of staring at her reflection, the dress pressed against her front, Simone goes back to the bed. She gently lays the dress on the mattress, trying not to stir up any dust which may get on it. Unbuttoning her blouse, she shrugs out of it. She removes her jeans as well, and places both articles of clothing on a nearby chair. Next, she puts on the dress. She finds the visibility of her bra straps tacky and problematic—the color clashing with the blues of the dress. She thinks about simply lowering the straps, wishing she had bought a bra with removable straps, but decides to remove it altogether.
Positioning the bodice of the dress so that it sits comfortably over her bosom, Simone walks back to the mirror and uses it to see how to fasten the back of the dress. She is happy with the result. A wide smile transforms her usually solemn face.
“Wow…Just wow!” Simone repeats her earlier declaration. “Who would have left this? She never even opened it. Probably never even read the note. And it’s in pristine condition. But how?”
Simone doesn’t spend too much time musing on the idea. She gathers up a portion of the dress and curtsies in front of the mirror. She puts out her hand as if expecting a suitor to take it and kiss it. Afterwards, she draws the same hand to her bosom and blinks dramatically.
“Will I have this dance? Why certainly,” Simone role-plays.
She waltzes slowly across the room. Her eyes are closed tightly and a wistful smile plays on her lips.