A Jaunty Writer Episodic Fiction
Chapter One
I died when I was 26 years old.
Bummer, right?
Seriously, who dies when they’re only 26 years old?
It was one of those tragedies. One of those funerals where people stand up and say that they lost you too young. One of those deaths where people put flowers out. One where they say that the death was senseless.
But that’s not what I’m here to talk with you about. Because death is really a buzzkill.
Instead, I’m here to recount the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me: I met a girl.
I pushed my way out of Flaming River, the bar I worked at, the scent of alcohol clinging to my clothes. It wasn’t much, just a local bar that served the basics. Nothing fancy, nothing crazy. Good drinks and good food. Besides, it was rare if anyone ordered something besides a beer. Catering to locals, my hometown was one of those places that almost seemed stuck in the 1950s.
The gravel parking lot was dimly lit, and the only cars left belonged to the owner and the manager. They’d leave after me, early in the morning.
Next to the kitchen door was my motorcycle, a mix-matched machine made by me and my uncle, who was a mechanic. We’d built it over the summer after I’d graduated high school with a variety of parts we’d put together from his small, locally owned shop.
I grabbed my helmet, pulling it over my dark hair. My mother would complain about its length when I saw her later that day.
Like every night, I was too keyed up by the loud music, the laughter, and work to go home and crash. Revving up my bike, I headed out away from Flaming River and out towards Red Lake.
Really, the lake wasn’t much. A park surrounded it. People came out in the summer to swim, picnic, or sometimes the fire department would grant permits for bonfires. The shore was grassy, but the very edge was fine gravel, almost sand. But not quite.
I pulled to the side of the road, pausing at the moon covered water. Killing the engine, I sat back, looking over the lake I’d been raised around. I’d never left my little hometown. Made it through high school, but so few people go to college here. Plus, it wasn’t like I could actually afford college.
Instead, I got a job working at Flaming River. My uncle wanted me to apprentice under him and learn to be a mechanic. Maybe I would.
A figured moved past me, catching my attention.
Someone was walking down the shore at three in the morning. What kind of crazy person did that?
Well, besides me. But I’d just gotten off work, so it at least made sense for me.
Instead, this girl was wandering along the edge of the lake. She wore a pair of shorts that came up to the slight indent in her waist. I assumed she was wearing a shirt, but it was hard to see in the low light. Her hair was long and curly, down over her shoulders.
Almost as if she felt my gaze on her, she turned, looking straight at me.
Shit.
I froze in place, panic coursing through me. She probably thought I was a freak, sitting here watching her. Was this stalker-ish?
It was kind of weird either way.
But she didn’t run. Instead, she smiled, raising her hand in greeting. Not exactly what I was expecting. But I reciprocated, waving back.
God, I was awkward.
“Don’t you love walking at night?” She came closer, and I was able to see the bikini top she was wearing with the shorts, which I now saw were orange.
“Uh, yeah, it’s nice out here.” I agreed lamely. Why in the world was she wearing a bikini? It was northeast Ohio, not Virginia Beach or Florida. People don’t just go around wearing swimsuits for no reason.
I could also see that her hair was purple and her eyes bright. It was like she glowed in the low light of the early morning.
“Do you come out here a lot?” I asked, realizing I’d let the silence go on a beat too long.
“When I can. Where are you coming from? It’s pretty rare that people just come out here to walk this early in the morning.”
“Work,” I smiled, “I’m never tired enough to go home and drop to sleep. I usually ride around.”
She smiled, brilliant and bright. “Want a change? You could walk with me.”
That was weird. Usually, girls alone didn’t ask guys to walk around with them early in the morning. Especially not guys like me.
Not that there’s anything wrong with me. Or guys like me. It’s just that I’m the kid of a single parent, practically dirt poor, with only a high school diploma to my name. I ride a motorcycle, have a few tattoos, and since I work at a bar, most daddy’s aren’t too happy to see their girl dating me.
But then again, this was a working-class town. The poor were rapidly outnumbering the wealthy and middle class that had been the norm when my mom was growing up.
She was also the one who asked me.
“Sure, why not.” I got off my bike, leaving it with my helmet in the small parking lot. She grinned widely as if I’d made her day.
“Wonderful,” she turned back towards where she’d been walking, long hair flying as she did. “My name’s Winter.”
“Huh, unusual name. I’m Billy Cook.”
“Well, Billy Cook,” Winter smiled at me. God, her smile was dazzling. “What’s your story?” She asked as I hurried to catch up with her.
“My story?”
“Yeah, your story. We all have one. What’s yours?”
I paused for a moment, before shrugging. “Not much to tell. I’ve lived here in Odile my entire life. Born here, and I’ve never left. Work over at the Flaming River.”
“Oh, the little local bar, right? I’ve heard they have the best fried pickles.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “They do. You should try them sometime.”
“Well, now I have two reasons to go.”
Was she flirting with me? I ran my hand through my hair, “What about you? What’s your story?” I turned the question around on her.
“Well, I was born in Greece, and I’m one of eight girls, the youngest.” She grinned at me as if she knew what that meant. “I’ve spent my life traveling. Picking up odd jobs here and there. I guess you could say that I don’t really have roots.”
“So you just travel?” I couldn’t imagine such a thing.
“Yep, I spend some time here or there. All over the world. It’s fun.”
“And you just, pick up work wherever?”
“Yep. I’m an artist, so I’ll sell my work. Or I’ll take commissions. I’ve got quite a bit of a little online following, so sometimes I get commissioned to do murals for cities. Other times I show up and paint.”
“Wow,” I blinked in surprise at the life she lived. “I don’t know if I’d be able to do that.”
She laughed, “Well, I’m lucky enough to have a few benefactors who’ve left me money to help. But I try to not touch that.”
To spend your life traveling and not having to worry about money. What kind of life would that be like? How nice would it be to not have to worry if you were making enough money? To go and not worry about anything else? To spend your life doing what you love? Would it be nice to go with the flow? Or was it stressful? What would it be like to just decide that you want to go somewhere and know that you could?
“Where have you traveled to?” I asked instead.
“All over,” She smiled, “I’m coming from Georgia. And before that, I was in Haiti, then spent some time in South America.”
“Wow,” I blinked again. “I thought you just meant that you traveled around the country.”
She laughed, warm and light. “Nope, all over the world.”
“So what brought you to little Odile, Ohio?”
“Honestly, I just ended up here. It’s beautiful up here, near the state parks.”
She was right. Our state parks were beautiful. I loved driving through them. Sometimes I would take my mom out when she got a day off so we could walk through the woods, hills, and gorges. Although, that didn’t happen as much anymore.
We turned with the lake, continuing along as the girl continued to speak animatedly.
“I absolutely love the Bahamas. I was there last March, and it was wonderful. Painting down by the beaches and then up through the jungles. And the people! They’re so friendly and wonderful. I have so many pictures of people that I want to put on canvas.”
“Pictures?” I looked over at her.
“Yeah, I can’t just stop people and ask them to pose for me. I usually take a lot of photos to use as references when it comes to people.”
“Huh, I guess I never thought of that.”
Winter smiled, walking in the shallows of the water. “Most people don’t. Why? Do you want me to paint you?”
I could feel my cheeks turn warm. That wasn’t what I’d been asking at all. Running my fingers through my hair, I shook my head. “No. I was just curious. I’m not very artistic.”
“I’m teasing.” She promised with a grin, splashing me with some water before dancing out of my reach as I tried to do the same.
I groaned as I pulled my bike out to a stop in front of Flaming River.
I’d been out at the lake until almost six in the morning. Winter and I’d been talking about all sorts of things. She’d never gone to college, although her traveling made her seem so wise and experienced. She had an open mind and a kind heart.
She’d told me all about her sisters. She was the youngest, and all had been married and had children. But, she didn’t expand much, mentioning that she didn’t see them often because of the distance.
Something she loved to talk about was people. She peppered me with questions about Odile, my little hometown, my mom, what it was like living here, what I wanted to do in life. Nothing was too big or too small for her to question.
Everything seemed to fascinate her.
I pulled my helmet off, running fingers through my hair as I headed into the bar. Jukebox music greeted me with the smell of alcohol and Cain’s famous fried pickles. Who would have thought something so weird would taste so good?
Dropping off my jacket and helmet, I headed behind the bar.
“You look like shit,” Sean looked over at me. He’d been one of my best friends for years, and now he was the other bartender at Flaming River. It didn’t hurt that his dad owned the place.
“I was up until six this morning.” I grabbed a few beers, replacing the ones for our regulars who were already in.
“Why the hell were you up that late?”
“Went down to Red Lake and met a girl.”
“At two am?”
“Yeah, she was just wandering around.”
“Is she crazy?”
“Probably a little. She was curious about the area.”
“Why? There’s nothing to do here.”
I shrugged, “No idea. She was born in Greece.”
“That girl must be crazy. You stay away from her. She might be a serial killer.”
I snorted, “She’s like, five feet tall, at best. I think I could punt her over a fence if I needed to.”
“Have you met my sister? She’s tiny, but she could still take people down.”
“Your sister plays soccer and goes for the ankles.”
Sean nodded, “True, but still. Maybe this girl knows some sort of Greek Judo or something.”
“I don’t think Judo is Greek.”
“Shut up, you know what I mean.” Sean pushed me away from him. “Go get another case of beer for the fridge. Just got a new shipment in the back.”
I grinned, saluting as I headed off to work. Flaming River started to pick up with the dinner crowd coming in. Then the after dinner crowd, usually friends coming to talk and BS for the evening. A baseball game was on the TV behind me, and I was busy grabbing beers, mixing a few drinks, and cashing people out.
I’d never thought I’d be a bartender, but I’d found I liked the job. Yeah, it was long hours on your feet, and sometimes people could be jerks. But I liked talking with the people. The regulars were friendly, and there was always something going on.
Plus, there was always the chance to talk with some of the people around town. My family had lived here long enough that I grew up being “Holly’s boy.” A lot of people knew my mom or my Uncle Brent. If they didn’t know them, then they knew my grandparents, William and Sheila Cook. We were almost institutions. Grandma Sheila liked to brag about her family’s long roots in the area, going back before the Civil War.
I wasn’t sure if we should be bragging that we had never left.
“Cook!” Sean called from the other end of the bar, breaking my thoughts. “Got someone asking after you!”
Looking over, I found the shock of purple hair, this time braided back. Winter grinned at me as I walked to that end of the bar.
“Hey, wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”
“You said this place had the best fried pickles.” She pointed out.
I chuckled, “You’re right. You want an order?”
“Sure, and a rum and coke?”
“Coming right up.” I winked, heading off to get her order. It only took a moment before I placed the drink in front of her. “Still enjoying little Odile?”
“Yep, although, I have a question.”
“I’ve noticed you have a lot.” I grabbed another beer, passing it over to a girl two seats down. “Shoot.”
“Why is it called Odile?”
“Supposed to be named after some German Saint. They told us in school that she was blind and loved by the founder since his daughter was born blind. They were German Catholic.”
“Huh, interesting.” She sipped her drink with a thoughtful expression.
“Got another question?”
“Yeah, why’s this place called Flaming River?”
“The Cuyahoga River used to catch on fire because of all the pollution. It’s become kind of a state joke.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Yeah, but part of our history. And Sean’s dad has a wicked sense of humor.”
Winter giggled, “Is he the one who makes the fried pickles?”
“Nope, that would be Cain. Guy went through Vietnam and is real jumpy sometimes, but he’s one of the best cooks in the area.”
The girl nodded, pursing unnaturally pink lips. “I’ve met a lot of veterans like that. If I’m somewhere for a long time, sometimes I do some art therapy groups with people who’ve got PTSD. They’ve always got an interesting perspective on things. Plus, sometimes they’ll tell stories. I like collecting stories.”
“So I’ve noticed.” I glanced over, noticing things getting busy again. “I’ve got to head back to work. I’ll grab your pickles and be around to check on you, okay?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself!” she laughed, shooing me off.
I was only able to check in a few times with Winter, but she seemed to be fine. She’d befriended the girls sitting next to her. They sat there laughing and swapping stories.
Then she befriended Sean.
Then the group from the local bank.
Then the construction crew from down the street.
Then a few families.
Damn, she was getting around. She even talked to old Mel, who hated almost everyone. But in minutes, I saw she had him smiling and laughing as they talked.
Who was this girl?
I didn’t get a chance to talk to Winter again until we were about to close.
She’d just said goodbye to Joleen, who owns the little family restaurant downtown. She brought her drink back over to the bar, sitting down and watching me as I started to put things away for the night.
“You seem to be a social butterfly.”
“I like to travel. You get good at making friends.” She smiled at me, “Plus, I also like to collect stories.”
I chuckled slightly, putting some glasses away. “That’s what you said. Get any good ones?”
“Yep.”
Silence followed, causing me to look up again. “And?”
“And nothing.”
“You’re not gonna share?”
“Not my stories to share.”
I snorted slightly, “Good to know that you won’t go around and share all my dirty secrets.”
“Only if I’m far away from here and after you’re dead.”
I rolled my eyes. “Hopefully, that’ll be a long time then.”
She just grinned at me. Which, was kind of weird, I’ll admit. Weren’t you supposed to say something along the lines of ‘Of course it will be!’ when you talked about death?
Right?
Seriously, what was up with this girl? She was weird, but I was also finding myself growing more and more infatuated with her.
“So what stories will you share with me?” I asked, finishing cleaning up from the night.
Winter paused, swirling what was left in her glass around. Her thin brows wrinkling as she thought for a moment. “I’ll share a story with you, tomorrow.”
A grin broke on her face as she laughed, at my expression.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I offered, trying to regain my calm facade. She grinned, knocking back the rest of her drink.
“You will,” she promised, leaning over the bar and kissing my cheek. Her lips were warm, and a little sticky from the alcohol. She grinned at me, hopping off the barstool and traipsing out the door.
I shook my head, knowing I had a massive grin on my face. Who wouldn’t after kissing a pretty girl?
“Got a new girlfriend?” Sean grinned, sliding over next to me as we finished cleaning up for the night.
“Nah, but she’s cute.”
“She also kissed you.”
I could feel the tips of my ears growing warm. Turning so I could put some glasses away, not to avoid Sean’s gaze, I shook my head.
“Maybe, but it wasn’t anything.”
“She likes you. And you like her. I can tell.” Sean grinned at me, “Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong before?”
“Callie Adams.”
“That was in 7th grade!” He smacked me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t help it you’re a dweeb.”
“Did you seriously call me a dweeb?”
“I did.” Sean grinned, throwing a rag at me. “You done?”
I nodded, “Yeah, see you tomorrow?”
“Nope. Got the day off.”
“Ugh, that means Brianna will be working?”
“Yep, sorry.” Sean grinned at me, knowing the girl drove me crazy.
“You owe me.”
“My uncle owes you.” Sean grinned, ducking from behind the bar. “See ya!”
I grinned, ducking back into the closet to grab my jacket and helmet. It had rained while we were inside. While the sky still looked ready to let loose again, right now, it was clear. I pulled my helmet on, pausing only to push my hair back.
It really was a beautiful night. The air was still a little damp, and the smell of fallen leaves was in the air. It was the middle of fall, and the sense of it was everywhere. Anyone who says that fall is best in New England has never been to Ohio.
Not that I’ve ever been to New England to compare the two. But Ohio fall was just what fall was supposed to be like. It smelled fresh, and clean, with only the hint of the decay that would be starting soon under the layer of leaves currently falling.
I pulled my bike out from the overhang I sheltered it under, started it up before heading out onto the road. I took the familiar streets towards home, easily leaning into the curves as I went.
However, Winter Halliday had me bewitched. She was unlike anyone I’d ever met in my small hometown. There was a curiosity and a spark that seemed to draw people to her. She was like a flame, and we were all just poor moths entranced by her light.
Zipping around a curve in the road, I snorted at myself in amusement. I was beginning to sound like a lovesick fool. I didn’t even know the girl. How could I be lovesick?
I took another corner onto the state road, opening up the bike now that I was out of the downtown area. Flying over the small hills, I spotted some headlights coming my way.
Semi. They come through the backroads all the time to avoid all the tight turns and the traffic through the towns.
But, this one was heading a little too fast.
I watched as the back wheels started to hydroplane, skidding and swinging around the cab.
Right towards me.
Shit.
I felt myself break, knowing that it would be too little too late. The crunch of metal was deafening as I was thrown back.
It didn’t hurt.
But that might be because I couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. My chest hurt like something was crushing me.
There were sirens. But they sounded muffled. And then lights.
Voices.
Just barely make them out. People were shouting, feet stomping as people ran.
My head felt heavy.
Flashlights bobbed in my peripheral vision. Bright light shining around.
More voices, calling for things. Someone calling for a cleanup crew.
I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to yell out. No sound came from my throat.
Winter was supposed to tell me a story tomorrow. I wasn’t going to get to hear that. My vision clouded. I could feel my body giving up.
“Oh my god.” A woman’s voice. “Jane! Get over here! There’s another one!”