Secrets, part twelve

When she gave the password and entered the speakeasy, Leta was trembling with anxiety. She needed a drink to calm her nerves, she told herself, and went straight to the bar.

"Leta!” the barkeep exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

She looked right at him with dark eyes.

“One of those kind of days,” he surmised. “How about a gin and tonic?”

“Please,” she said.

“Coming right up.”

The establishment wasn’t very full, and Leta made a cursory glance of the patrons. Many of them wore hats to be less recognizable, but she didn’t see him, the man she had been meeting here for weeks, and the same man she had rejected by not appearing for their lunch date earlier. While she was disappointed, she did relax a little.

When the barkeep handed her the cocktail, she drank it as if it were a glass of water on a steaming day.

“Someone’s thirsty,” the barkeep noted.

“Charlie,” she said, “you have no idea.”

“How about something a little stronger? Got some vermouth in today and could make you a martini.”

“A martini!” she gasped in surprise. It seemed so indulgent.

“Fresh olives, too,” he added. “My father-in-law is visiting from Italy and brought a mess of them with him.”

“Well, why not?”

“I’ll be with you in just a jif,” he said and turned to wait on the man called Drunk Harry.

Drunk Harry came into the speakeasy every night at eight-thirty. He dressed immaculately in a pressed linen suit and tie, his thick, slicked down his graying hair and carried a pack of cigarettes. Over the subsequent ninety minutes, he would smoke the pack of cigarettes and drink until he could hardly stand. Then he would slide off his bar stool, stagger out the door and across the street to the large home where he lived alone. His wife had died a year earlier, and his grown children blamed their mother’s untimely death on their father’s greed and neglect. He was a successful financier who worked from early in the morning until fifteen minutes before he entered the speakeasy. Leta heard from other patrons that he was very wealthy, and once she saw him pay his tab from a large roll of bills he extracted from a pocket. While he had profited monetarily from the Great Depression, he had lost everything else. Leta never noticed that he talked to anyone, although she once observed that he shared a cigarette with a fellow businessman who sat beside him.

Tonight, she felt a certain pang of pity for the man. He was attractive, well groomed and successful, but miserable, slowly drinking himself to death. He looked at her and nodded, as if he understood what she was thinking and agreed. She quickly turned away, reaching for her glass.

“Oh,” she said to no one in particular when she realized it was empty.

“May I buy you a refill?” a familiar voice asked.

She continued her turn to find Leech Hoose standing beside her.

“Leech!” she gasped in relief. She nearly lost her balance, but he reached out his soft hand to steady her.

“Maybe you’ve had too much,” he teased and then winked.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I was—“

“No need,” he said, holding up his hand. “I am just glad you were not sick…or worse.”

He sat beside her, just as Charlie returned with her martini.

“What is that?” Leech asked.

“A martini,” she answered.

“Want to try one?” Charlie asked.

Leech examined the clear cocktail carefully.

“Go ahead,” Leta urged. “Take a sip. See if you like it.”

He did and shuddered, which made Leta laugh.

“That’s nasty!”

“More for me, then,” Leta noted through her laughter.

“Straight gin coming right up,” the barkeep said.

“How are you?” Leech asked when they were alone, and she became more serious..

“Better,” she answered. “You?

“Same. I wasn’t sure you were going to be here.”

“Me either,” she acknowledged. “But here I am.”

“I’m glad.”

“Lunch was—I’m sorry—I was—“ she stammered, but he held up his hand.

“Don’t,” he said. “We’re here.”

After he received his regular glass of straight gin, they took their drinks to their table in the corner. A few moments later, the awkwardness dispatched, they sipped their drinks in silence and held hands.

The speakeasy was fairly empty with only twenty or so patrons at any one time throughout the night. Leta was so content that she lost track of the time. When Drunk Harry finally got up and staggered toward the door, she remembered that she had children, a home and other responsibilities. She looked at the table. How many drinks had she had? And then she looked up at Leech who was looking at her with cloudy eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a slight slur, and she smiled.

“I think it’s time I head home,” she said. “I don’t even know what time it is!”

“Obviously,” a familiar gruff voice agreed.

To be continued.