From: Amatia Date: Wed, 18 Nov 1998 21:29:11 -0600 (CST) Subject: "Tequila" (1/1) by Amatia Title: Tequila Author: Amatia (violinst@pitnet.net) Disclaimers: Not mine. Well, I own the pineapple in that drink... Category: V, a touch of H Spoilers: XFFTF Distribution: Gossamer - all others please email and say you're posting it. ------------------------- "Tequila" by Amatia Spooky is back again. I'm not surprised to see him here, he's become somewhat of a regular after he told me what he did for a living. He always drinks tequila, it makes me wonder if he even likes the usual hard stuff that people get around here. I've worked here for three years, paying my way through classes at the local community college. And not in my three years here have I seen a man look so sorrowful all the time. I'm pretty sure he only comes in here on his bad days, but compared to most of our patrons, he has a lot of them. Once, maybe twice a week, he sits at the bar, and I pour him shots of tequila. He usually has about six, then I tell him he's had enough, and he gets himself a cab. One of the few patrons who actually listen to me, without throwing a fit. If he goes home after he leaves here, I don't know. He wears no wedding ring, so I don't think that he's married. A redheaded woman came in here one night, and she gave me a tight little smile, and paid for his drinks, and practically dragged him out of here, calling him "Mulder"...If that's his first name, I'm surprised he doesn't just go by Spooky all the time. Sometimes I want to take him home with me, just because he looks so sad. Most guys who come to the bar make passes at me, and I always tell them I'm taken, even though I'm not. But Spooky must wake up my mothering instinct, because I just want to take him to my apartment and rock him until he falls asleep. But I never do, I just pour him his tequila, and call him a cab on the nights that he can hardly get up from the chair. I've seen a lot of people come in here, and try to drown their sorrows in alcohol. But none of them have ever mentioned aliens. And none of them have had the nickname Spooky. If he really is part of some government conspiracy like he says he is, I don't blame him for wanting that tequila. I'd want it too, if that was my life. He's on his third shot, nursing it this time instead of just tossing itback like he usually does. I linger near his end of the bar, keeping my eye on the guy back in the corner. He looks a little spooky to me, and his hand doesn't look real. He's watching Spooky toss back his tequila, while nursing his own...I squint at the drink, trying to look inconspicuous...Whiskey Old-Fashioned. No olives, onions, or cherries. One dinky little piece of pineapple, I remember making the drink now. I'm tempted to tell Spooky he's got an admirer, but with all that tequila in him, I don't want to have a fight started. I wipe up some spilled beer from the far end of the bar, seeing Spooky finish his shot. I've never called him Spooky to his face, although I've been tempted. I put the towel under the bar, and went over to him. "Like another?" He nodded. "What's your name?" "Gwenyth. Gwen," I replied, pouring him his tequila. "What do you do besides work here?" "I go to school." I replaced the bottle on it's shelf. "Any more questions?" "Is the guy with the fake hand still sitting in the back of the room?" he asked, his hand near the glass but not touching. I replied without checking, I'd just looked a moment ago. "He was a minute ago." "Is he watching me?" "Yeah. Excuse me, I have to fill a drink order." He nodded and picked up his glass. I concentrated on making the drinks, but it was mindless work, all straight liquor. Jennifer snapped her gum as she waited for the order. "Jen," I asked, "that guy in the corner, with the fake hand, is he almost done with his drink?" "He's done," she replied. "That vodka you're pouring is his." "Thanks," I said. "There you go. All set." She took the tray, and I walked back over to Spooky. "He just got another drink. Vodka." "Yeah, that's more his style than something with pineapple," he replied. "For a guy who hasn't looked at him yet, you certainly pick up on details," I said, clearing away some empty glasses. "It's all details," he replied, with a wave of his hand, barely missing his tequila. "Careful!" "Sorry." The door to the bar opened, and Spooky's friend, the redhead, entered, a determined look on her face. "Mulder," she hissed as she approached the bar. "What are you doing?" "What does it look like I'm doing?" he replied. "Can't I get drunk without you mothering me?" She sighed, and folded her arms. I half expected to start tapping her foot like one of those mothers who gets pissed at their kids. He shot her a look, which I couldn't quite decipher, and didn't move from his stool. "Scully," he whispered. "Krycek is over there in the corner. You need to leave, now!" I could tell that she really wanted to check and see, but she resisted the urge. Which was a good idea, because that Krycek guy was still watching them. And the look on his face was not friendly. Scully frowned at Spooky. "Mulder!" she hissed again. I could call her Snake-Lady instead of Scully. Spooky and his friend, the Snake-Lady, who get followed by the one-armed man who likes pineapple in his whiskey. I was even more glad that my life did not involve government conspiracy, and, according to Spooky, "shit-storms". But I digress. Scully had given up on making Spooky leave, and, shooting him a particularily evil look, turned and left. Spooky looked at me. "He's not following her, is he?" I shook my head. "No. He's watching you, and drinking his vodka. On the rocks." "How he can stand that, I don't know," he replied, chuckling a little, then tossing back his tequila. "How you can stand that, I don't know," I said in return. "Another?" "Not now. Can you tell me if he's moving at all?" "Hasn't moved an inch," I answered. "Can I ask you a question?" "Shoot." "Do you have a name, or am I just supposed to call you Spooky?" "You can if you want. My family calls me Fox, and my collegues call me Mulder." Good, his first name wasn't Mulder. "You Jewish?" That earned me a raised eyebrow, a move I'd so far only seen on Scully the Snake-Lady. "How'd you know?" "Your last name, "I said, shrugging. "You grow up in the biggest Jewish community in Maryland, you learn the names." I took his glass. "I have to stop socializing for a moment. Work, you know." Spooky - Fox, rather - grinned. "I understand." I wiped up a couple more spills, replaced some glasses, filled an order for Jen. No more vodka for the guy with the fake hand, he was still nursing his. I poured two more beers for the other guys at the bar, and shook up a martini for the blonde sitting alone, occasionally casting glances at Fox, looking as if she was trying to work up the courage to talk to him. I set some clean glasses under the bar, and turned back to Fox. "Can I get you anything else?" "What time do you get off work?" "Way past your bedtime, Spooky," I replied, smiling at him. "You sure you don't want anything more?" "Well, now that you ask, how do you propose I ditch my one-armed friend?" I took a drink from my tumbler of water, then pushed up my sleeves. "You want me to go distract him?" "Who's gonna watch the bar?" "Jen will," I replied, waving her over. "Can you man the station for a few moments? I have to distract vodka-boy for a few moments." "No problem," she replied. "Why don't you take him something sweet to tempt him?" I chuckled. "He doesn't look like he tempts easily." She pressed a tumbler of vodka with ice in my hand. "Your friend here's itching to leave. Get going." Wishing I hadn't made the suggestion to Fox, I went over to the one-armed guy's table. "Hi." "Table's full." "Looks pretty empty to me," I replied, sitting down. "Did you want another drink?" He looked at the drink in my hand, then up at me. "Well, since you brought it, I might as well." I slid the drink across the table. "I haven't seen you here before." "I decided to try a new place," he replied. "Wel, I try to say hello to the new patrons that I see. What's your name?" I asked. "Alex." He shot a look towards the bar, and I saw him mouth a obscenity. "Um, what's yours?" "Gwen." "Thanks for the drink," he said. "But don't you have to go back to work?" "I guess I should. You come again, though, you hear?" "I'll be back," Alex replied. I stood, noting that Spooky was gone. I went back to the bar. "God, I sounded so trite," I whispered to Jen. "But you distracted him long enough for your friend to get away," she replied. "He left this, though." She handed me a napkin with a number on it. "It looks to me like he wants you to call him." "I get lots of numbers, Jen," I replied. "I haven't called one of them yet." I crumpled the napkin, dropped it in the trash. "If he wants to see me that bad, he knows where I work. And we serve the best tequila in town." Note: That was kinda fun to write... violinst@pitnet.net http://personal.pitnet.net/london http://www.cybergrrlz.com