Ash

“Do I need to call the cops?” asked the stranger. Ash froze and choked on a scream,  struggling for air until the stranger mercifully released his hand. The sharp pain eased, but not a sound escaped from Ash, not that it would make any difference at this time of the night.

Silence.

The stranger clicked his tongue.

“Tch. You look like shit. What did you do, kill a man?” the man asked as he peered over Ash’s shoulder, his eyes ablaze with suspicion. The imposing stranger’s breath singed the raised hair on his neck, sending a fiery chill down his spine. 

He was at least half a foot taller, engulfing Ash with his shadow. The weight of his presence may just have cracked the boy. 

“Um, No..no, sir! This-this is all my-my blood. I would never—“

He snatched Ash’s wrist and inspected the glove. “Your blood? What’s with the glove?”

Ash winced and reddened at the man’s hold on his hand; no one had been this close to him in ages.  “To-to keep from bleed-bleeding on the dishes, sir!! And myself, sir. I cut myself. I, um, just left, sir! Left work, I mean, not a crime scene, or anything like that.” 

He was always soaked in filthy sink water and caked with dried sauce and random bits of food from work. The nauseating stench of stale deep-fry and garbage clung to him like flies on shit by the end of every shift, keeping everyone at several arms’ length.  

And here was this man, barging into his bubble as if it was never there in the first place. 

“Hmph,” the skeptical stranger paused, “come with me. Call me AJ, and I’m not quite old enough to be a sir. What’s your name, boy?” AJ frowned and motioned for Ash to follow him back to the bar. 

Ash smiled weakly, “Um, ah-Ash…nice to meet you, Mr. AJ.” 

After unlocking the door, AJ turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “What the hell are you smiling about? And drop the Mister. Do I look that old to you?”

Yes…?

AJ took another puff of his cigarette while waiting for Ash’s answer.

“N-no—” he replied, guessing that was the expected answer.

 Ash failed to stifle a cough after AJ exhaled the smoke, the cigarette still between his lips. 

He was afraid. 

Afraid of what was to come once he walked through the door. Tremors in his body, all the way into his bones, screamed at him to turn around and run. To run and never look back. His guts told him that the entrance was the point of no return.

Leery, AJ glared at him, then he crushed the barely-smoked cigarette onto the pavement and held the door open for him. Ash stood there, frozen, until AJ grabbed his hand and dragged him past the threshold. A click, much louder than the first one, resounded throughout the room and into Ash’s chest.    

After a few flicks, the recessed lights filled the bar with a soft golden glow. It wasn’t as bright as the streetlights, but not all of the ceiling lights inside were on. He tapped a black stool twice, and Ash shuffled over and sat down. The man walked around the polished bar and rummaged through the space beneath the counter.

Ash remained as quiet and white as AJ’s dress shirt. Trying his best not to be too noisy, he swiveled on the squeaky stool while waiting for AJ to reappear from behind the bar. He looked around curiously as he slowly spun around.

The weathered dark wood, black metal support beams, and exposed pipes lining the ceiling gave the place an edgy but sophisticated look, not unlike the stranger he had just met.

The dark maroon walls were crowded with many shadows under the orange lights, shadows that he cast over with every spin. The seat appeared smooth but grainy to his touch; it felt like the genuine leather jacket he received ages ago from one of his foster dads.

The Tipping Point bar was foreign to Ash, with its own culture and language, yet he felt strangely comfortable. 

It was worlds away from where he worked.

After being at Saffron’s Steakhouse for several years, he grew accustomed to the obnoxious bright light, matted beige carpet, and split faux leather seats in the musty dining room. 

The name implied an upscale restaurant, but that was far from the truth.

AJ stuck his head out from behind the bar. “Stop gawking and take off your damn clothes.”