Chapter 4: The Pyg's Head

After a fulfilling lunch at Bullock’s diner, instead of returning home to Clarette’s, Jolene decided she wanted to stay out and chat a while longer with Simon. Her request to see the Tavern he bartended seemed to cause him some anxiety, because no one ever combed their hair with their fingers as much as he did. The fringe around his face had actually started to turn flat and oily from his constant fussing.

She had been about to retract her request when he finally—and with great reluctance—agreed to take her there. While she had been happy about getting her way, she worried for him the entire drive there, and kept sending him concerned looks in the car. Perhaps his unease was caused by his boss. She only knew little about him from what Simon had told her over lunch, but from words alone, she surmised him to be a big prick. That was probably just her standing up for an old friend though. Everyone complained about their boss one time or another, and maybe she had caught Simon on a bad day.

“You want something else to drink? A cocktail maybe, or a martini?” Simon asked her as he stood behind the bar wearing an eager smile.

“I’ll stick with my lemonade, thanks,” she said, holding up her half empty bottle of Mike’s Hard. He was looking to showcase his skills, but he didn’t need to around her. She had no doubt of his competence, and she wasn’t much of a cocktail drinker anyway.

Simon settled against the counter of the bar, resting on his elbows with his sleeves rolled up into cuffs. The top shelf booze behind him was running low, and many of the wooden bar stools were stripped of patches of paint. Her stool had shortened legs that wobbled, though it wasn’t anything a couple of sugar packets couldn’t fix. Jolene took this as a sign that business was good, though on the off chance she was wrong, it could just mean money was slow and they couldn’t afford new furniture or good booze.

The rest of the establishment was built like the interior of an old exploration ship, something Columbus would have likely set sailed on. The wooden paneling on the walls was stained white, and there was rope and fish netting strewn up across the beams on the ceiling. Jo was surprised at the absence of an anchor or a ship’s wheel somewhere on the wall. The muted décor, along with the name ‘The Pyg’s Head’ on the flag waving over the door outside made it a place she wouldn’t frequent often except for the company.

Besides Simon, she had been greeted by another friendly face at the Tavern. One significantly more hairy, and slobbering. An impossibly large dog had pounced on her just as soon as she had stepped through the door, surprising her with his size and enthusiasm. Standing on his hind legs he was greater than her height, and he was twice as wide in a coat of shaggy black fur. She would have mistaken him for a wolf, but his pointed snout looked more like the breeds from the Highlands, like a collie. His paws were the width of a man’s fully grown, and he had a long tail that coiled into his body behind him.

Simon had managed to calm the excitable nature of the creature, sternly calling ‘Kilgore’, which settled him enough to stand back on all fours. Even then he was still giant, at least as big as a young bull. Jolene had never seen a dog of his size before, and she had at first felt unnerved by his company. Of course the animal had chosen to follow her around by only a hairs length apart, and had made his resting place at her feet by the bar. Every so often he demanded a scratch behind his ears, and he would make his request known by leaping up and obnoxiously lapping at her neck.

“Where did your boss find him?” She asked, gazing down at the creature. His pointed ears perked up, and his head tilted with piqued interest.

“Not sure,” Simon said shrugging, appearing to struggle with his words. “He’s been here ever since I got the job. He’s, er—unique.”

“Yes, I can see that, and a bit of a handful too.”

“You should see him at night,” murmured Simon, which earned him a growl and a sniff from Kilgore.

“Oh c’mon, I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” She crooned, getting down from her stool to crouch on the floor beside the beast. He bolted up at the attention, shoving his great snout into her neck with his damp nose that brought a chill to her skin.

“I did mean it. You don’t have to live across the hall from him.” Simon’s eyes were bright with frustration as he watched the dog. “It’s like having two roommates instead of one.”

Jolene chuckled as she ducked away from another wet kiss that came uncomfortably close to her mouth. “I can’t believe you live with your boss. Does he know you spend all your free time complaining about him?”

“Not all my time,” He clarified defensively. “Just when I’m fed up with being poor, or working late hours.”

“Join the club,” said Jolene. Her finances weren’t exactly in order, and now that she had taken the summer off to be with Clarette, she wondered if she would be able to stretch her money for that long. Her job as a travel agent wasn’t glamorous, and it hadn’t taken much mulling on her part to drop everything and head back for home for her friend. She never thought she’d jump at the chance to be in Benton again, but the North Shore hadn’t turned out to be a picture perfect paradise for her either. Not that it was horrible, it was just boring. That was another crime altogether.

“Truck’s pulling up,” said Simon, his head turning up to see out of the window. It was difficult to make anything out through the half closed blinds, but he seemed to spot something he recognized, because a flash of dismay came over him. “Oh crap, now I’m gonna get it.”

“Get what?” Jolene asked, her hands still buried in Kilgore’s coarse fur. “Simon?”

“It’s my boss.”

Jolene turned her attention to the door with intrigue for Simon’s supposed drill sergeant, only to be caught off guard by his arrival. Maeve had been right, he had definitely changed. In school, he had been short with gangly limbs, and uncombed hair. His height had not changed much, though he was bulkier now, not defined or chiseled, but definitely strong. His light brown hair was tamed in a tapered crew cut, with no bad sideburns sprouting out along his face. She could still see the thin white scar above his left ear where hair refused to grow, though she never knew the story behind it. A good deal of his time must have been spent outside too, because it had amounted into a tan on his arms and face, except where his short, full beard grew.

She turned away from his wide-eyed look to gape at Simon in confusion. “The boss you were complaining about, it’s Charlie Sokolsky?”

“Complaining about? And here I gave you the day off,” Charlie spoke up before Simon could answer. He abandoned his surprise at the door, stepping into the bar with a small package under his arm and an intentional look in his eyes at Simon. “At least you managed to do one of the things I told you. I’m still docking your pay though.”

Simon’s ears turned red, and he stood up straight. “Sorry Alfie, I tried.”

“I can see that,” he said, words colored in sarcasm as he took another look at Jolene on the floor with Kilgore. The dog didn’t seem all that thrilled with the return of his master. He didn’t even bother to pay him any mind, instead he started assaulting her face again with kisses.

“Jesus, Kilgore,” Charlie snapped, coming around to pull the beast off of her by the scruff of his neck.

Jolene watched nonplussed as he managed to steer the heavy Kilgore to the backroom, manhandling him through the door with some struggle. The dog was finally acting cheerful, his tail flailing back and forth, almost in a teasing manner as he stared up at his master. That was, until he had the door shut and locked in his face. Then came the howling.

“Shut up!” Charlie hollered as he walked back over to her and Simon. With quick hands he stored away the package he had come in with behind the bar, and turned to Jolene with purpose. “Don’t let him do that again, trust me.”

“That would be a first,” said Jolene. Simon gave her a hand to stand from the floor. She didn’t want to have to look up to speak back to him. Actually, she’d rather have met Charlie Sokolsky again in an entirely different way, more prepared if possible. It seemed luck was not on her side. “So, you didn’t want Simon to mention you, or bring me back here. Is that right?”

“Something like that. I figured you wouldn’t jump at the chance to get reacquainted with me.” He fixed her with a stern stare. She remembered those foggy blue eyes, always finding her across the hall or in town. They were still red and veiny from the strain of staring at a monitor. It seemed he was keeping up with the morbid habit of watching his morose news stories.

“Not really, but I’m here now, and it would be rude to walk away after you made Simon follow me all afternoon.” Simon made to look like he wanted to argue, but she shot him a reassuring smile. “That was quite an effort to avoid me, Charlie.”

He snorted with a head shake. “Charlie, are you kidding me? No one calls me that anymore.”

“Right, Alfie, sorry. I forgot about that, but I did see your name on the card for Clarette.”

“Oh yeah,” he commented indifferently. “And what did you think of the muffins?”

“I didn’t have one, Maeve saw to that. Not that I wanted one though, the thought of putting anything of yours in my mouth made me want to vomit.”

“You sweet talker you,” he quipped with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. On the short list of things she missed about Benton, her verbal sparring with Charlie Sokolsky was one of them. She may have gone out of her way to avoid him, but he always made his presence unfortunately bearable when he caught up to her.

“I didn’t realize you were so close to the Porcher’s, that a sympathy gift was needed.”

“I’m not,” he said a little too quickly. “But I figured it was the decent thing to do.”

“I guess I can accept that. What I can’t accept is the size of your dog.” She leaned over the bar, watching his face carefully for lies. “What is he? I’ve never seen a size of breed like that before.”

“He’s a barrow hound.” He remained straight faced, only blinking when he had to.

“I’ve never heard of it,” she said, frowning.

“That’s probably because you know it as a Cù Sith.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened, and she chanced a look at Simon. “You can’t just say that kind of stuff out loud in front of people.”

“Simon already knows that I’m a privileged,” Alfie said brusquely.

Simon shrugged, ducking her glance to take in the stains on the bar with sudden interest. Jolene could only feel incredulous, her lips left flapping in the stagnant air of the tavern. While she wasn’t always an upholder of rules, she still obeyed those put in place for their kind. Recalling different stories of the unfortunates of the past her mother had told her, it was the wise road to be taken. “Are you crazy? You aren’t supposed to let unprivileged know about us. The powers that be don’t approve of them having any knowledge of the existence of magic—no offense Simon.”

“It’s alright,” he said quietly.

“You don’t know the kind of trouble that could land you in, or what the punishment could be,” Jolene continued, watching as Alfie’s red and tired eyes darkened, making him appear more severe than handsome.

“Why, are you worried for me?”

“Yes, for you and myself. Now you’ve gone and dragged me into your mess.”

A guilty look turned on his face, causing a stone to form in her stomach. He brushed a hand through his hair, and had the nerve to speak apologetically. “I already told Simon about you a long time ago, when you weren’t even living in Benton anymore. It just fell into the conversation. A momentary slip of the tongue.”

‘Because of your carelessness’. It was like a huge weight was pressing on her nerves, and she felt herself letting go of control. The bottles on the shelves began to rattle and shake, with the fluids inside dancing and swirling in funnels. When her magic grew out of hand, she would forget to breathe, and there would be a terrible splitting pain behind her eye, like hot sauce pouring into her skull. It was enough to snap her out of her spell though, and she clutched at her forehead from the ache and shame of letting her magic go unchecked.

Simon was looking around with curiosity now that the bottles of liquor had ceased with the quaking, but Alfie had kept his eyes trained on her. There was something of disappointment marring his features that she didn’t feel comfortable seeing him wear.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” said Alfie.

“That’s cold comfort coming from you,” she groaned. “And why shouldn’t I be worried?”

“Because if the ′powers that be′ ever came looking, they would reserve all punishment for me. I can actually do something with my privilege. I don’t blow a faucet at the first sign of trouble.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jolene asked. Her eyes were blazing, and her voice was stiff.

Alfie was smiling somewhat, though he made to hide it just the slightest bit for her benefit. She didn’t like the idea of him doing her any favors, especially since he felt he had need to. “It means you still don’t know what to do with your privilege because you’ve never bothered to learn. You’re weak.”

“Yeah well, you’re still a dick.” Even to her that sounded pathetically meek. Her shoulders hung lower, and she made a quick grab for her bag from her purchases of the day. She could no longer muster the courage to look at Alfie. “Simon, can you take me home?”

“Sure,” he said, preparing to join her as he grabbed his keys.

“Actually, never mind, I think I’ll walk back.” She held up her hand, stopping him. Fresh air was just the balm she needed to cool her burning thoughts, and being around Simon was now a strange and uncomfortable idea with him knowing the truth about her. “I have some thinking to do.”

Alfie sounded a derisive chuckle, while Simon conceded with a quick nod. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later I guess?”

He appeared despondent, but his voice was hopeful and anxious. It was nothing he had done of course, and Jolene wanted to make sure he understood that. “Of course.”

“Bye,” said Simon in his soft voice.

Jolene sent a small wave before heading for the door of the Tavern. Alfie didn’t say anything else, but she knew his eyes were on her. It was an old familiar feeling returned, of seeking eyes on her back, and her skin prickled from it.

Before the door closed behind her and she was off the patio of The Pyg’s Head, she overheard Simon saying something to his impudent boss.

“She called you Alfie at least, that’s a good sign.”

“Shut up, Simon.”

Jolene shook her head and kept walking. Simon didn’t know what he was talking about. The unexpected visit may have turned out to be more cordial than even she could have guessed, but she wasn’t about to become friends with Alfie Sokolsky anytime soon after what he had done. He was still reckless, and strange, and not to be trusted. Everything her mother had always warned her about. She thought her panties might actually twist from her annoyed thoughts filled with him.

The frustration of the afternoon had to be wiped from her mind though as her phone began to buzz in her bag. At first she thought it might have been Clare getting in touch with a reminder to pick up something for lunch, but that idea was corrected as she looked at the number. It was Maeve calling.

“Hey, I thought you’d be at work this time of day?” said Jolene. She started walking in the direction of Main Street to link back up to Clarette’s.

“Had to take it off. Jolene, I need your help right now, there’s a Pukwudgie in my shed!” wailed Maeve on the other line. Her words were coherent—not drunk then—though there was a sense of alarm to them that Jolene couldn’t comprehend.

“There’s what..?”

“I heard this strange thumping in the night, outside my window. It was coming from my backyard, so I got up to check it out with a flashlight…and…there’s a Pukwudgie. It shot a fucking arrow at me Jo!”

Jolene had since stopped walking, standing at the corner of the street as she was torn between laughter and concern for her friend. The use of profanity made her give pause and consider the seriousness of the situation. Maeve was colorful, but this seemed more like deep-seated agitation.

“Well Maeve, I think I would be more worried, if I knew what a Pukwudgie was.”

“Look, can you just come over here?” said Maeve indignantly. “I have it locked in the shed right now, but I don’t think that it will hold it long. I already called Clare, and she said she’d be over soon too. I need help getting rid of it.”

And she thought that they’d be able to do that? Jolene sighed, regretfully remembering what Alfie had said to her about her magic skills. “Alright, I’ll be over right away. You’re on Oyster Road right?”

“Number eighty-seven. I’ll see you soon.”

“See ya,” she muttered, even though Maeve had already disconnected the call.

Jolene had woken in a great mood that morning, but that had gone all to hell, and it wasn’t showing any signs of improving anytime soon either. The only thing that could make it worse would be a surprise run-in with her mother. She shielded her eyes with her arm, looking up at the radiant and clear sky shining down. It was the one good thing. As she turned and began for Oyster Road, she dreaded to imagine what was going on in Maeve’s backyard, or how the rest of her day would turn out.