Chapter 17

Mark sat at the table in the new apartment Robert had found for him. It was certainly an improvement over the last one. A sleek white modular sofa with plush cushions dominated the space, complemented by a crystal-clear glass coffee table and a large mirror with a rich mahogany frame above a matching console table. Minimalist muted-green curtains draped the windows. It also had another feature the first apartment had lacked – Robert had installed cameras on the two exterior walls that had windows. Nighttime visits through them would be deterred or, at a minimum, recorded.

Two weeks had passed since he’d returned from Chicago and he’d heard nothing from either Katherine or Lilith. He hadn’t expected to after Katherine’s reception. But he had another plan, involving the dive bar he and Lillith had gone to a couple of times. He knew the chances of randomly finding her there were next to nonexistent. Nonetheless, if he asked around, word might filter back to her. It was a long shot, but better than doing nothing. At least it had a chance of making Lilith aware he was still trying.

The entrance was easy to miss. There was a small, faded sign, “John’s Place,” next to a neon beer logo. He went down the creaky flight of stairs, hearing the soulful strains of a blues guitar. The dim lighting cast an incandescent glow, a single spotlight trained on the aging rocker seated on the stage. The handful of mismatched tables scattered about had only a few occupants. He made his way over to the bar and was disappointed not to recognize the bartender. He bore a superficial resemblance to the performer, with long, thinning hair and a scraggly beard. Mark ordered a beer and exchanged a few words with him. There was a couple at the end of the bar he didn’t recognize. He scanned the faces at the tables – none looked familiar.

“Ever see Jen around these days?” he asked the bartender. Jen was the name Lilith had used in the bar.

“Hmm, Jen? Don’t recognize the name.”

“She’s about my age, tall, long brown hair...” Mark cupped his hands below his chest.

“Nope, don’t think so.” the bartender said. “I’d remember her if I’d seen her.”

Mark lingered for a while, listening to the music. He looked around at the walls, adorned with vintage beer signs, faded concert posters, and an eclectic mix of knick-knacks from decades past. He realized this might take multiple visits, but it was better than hanging around the apartment.

He got lucky on the third night, a Friday. The bar was busy, but things calmed down when the music started and he got a chance to talk to the bartender. She was a bleached blonde in her forties, who’d greeted “Jen” by name the last time they’d come in. They’d always sat at the bar, but Mark wasn’t sure whether she recognized him. He proceeded as though she did.

“Busier tonight,” he said.

“Not too bad,” she said, wiping the bar.

Mark remembered her talking to Lilith about her cats.

“How are your kitties?”

She looked up, her eyes registering faint surprise.

“Just as crazy as ever,” she said.

“Still going up the drapes?” Mark said, recalling something about that.

“Nah, we took ‘em down. They’d ruined them!”

They talked for a while about her cats – who were apparently in late-kittenhood destruct mode. She bared her arm, riddled with tiny scratches, as evidence and described the chaotic zoomies and kitty parkour. They shifted to other subjects, including the bar, and Mark casually dropped the question.

“Ever see Jen around these days?”

She looked down, thinking for a moment. Then she shook her head. “Nah, not recently at least.” Her eyes swung back to him and he finally saw recognition in them.

“Weren’t you in here with her once or twice?”

“Yeah, we went on a couple of dates, but I think she’s dating someone else now.”

She looked at him appraisingly. “You guys seemed to get on pretty well.”

“Yeah, well that’s how it goes.”

She took a new interest in him. “What are you up to these days?”

“Ahh, mostly just work,” Mark said.

“Remind me what kind?”

“Law.”

“Lawyer?”

“Yup.”

They had the inevitable conversation about her last bad experience with the law, something to do with her condo and the association. Then she got busy as the band took a set break.

Mark went back a couple more times, on Fridays. The bartender – Kendra – was there both evenings and they talked like old friends. Fortunately, Kendra was married, happily apparently, which took care of a possible problem. Toward the end of the second evening, he slipped it into the conversation.

“Hey, if you ever see Jen, tell her I said hi.”