Page 13

CHARLIE

The drive to the pub was uneventful. It was nice to see more of the city at night from the safety of an SUV. One nice thing about Chicago traffic is you aren’t going too fast to miss the view.

An hour later, we pull up outside the pub and I can instantly smell the beer and fries, making my stomach grumble in protest. I make my way inside looking for my co-works but don't see anyone yet. They must be working late or stuck in traffic. I grab a high top table and a menu.

I’m looking at the appetizers when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and chills run down my spine. I shiver and look around as the feeling of being watched settles over me. Not again . I try to ignore the feeling as the waitress approaches me and I order cheese fries and a Corona with lime. She nods and smiles as she heads off to enter in my order.

I glance around the small pub keeping an eye peeled for someone I know. My eyes land on the door just as Bill and a couple of interns come in; I think their names are Olivia and Jake. I make an audible sigh of relief. Thank God someone showed up! I wave them over and the waitress begins taking their drink orders.

I scan the room, taking in all the decor. There are numerous framed photos and articles about Al Capone on the walls. They even have a Tommy gun propped up on the wall near the entrance. My favorite piece of decor is a lamp with a Fedora placed atop it like it’s on Al Capone’s head.

“So Charlotte, how are you liking living in the city?” Olivia asks.

“I am loving it. There is so much culture and history here!”

“Yea. I love Al Capone and everything to do with prohibition!” Jake interjects.

“Oh. I don’t know much about him. But this restaurant is pretty cool,” I say. I’ve always found small talk difficult. I don’t have many hobbies, so I find it difficult to know what to talk about. Jake and Olivia talk more about what they know of Al Capone while Bill stares into his drink. He must not be too great at small talk either.

The waitress comes back to check on us and we decide to order a pizza to share. I’ve always loved Chicago’s deep dish pizza! While we wait for our food, Jake regales us with his knowledge of Al Capone. I think he must be a closet Al Capone nerd because he starts rattling off all sorts of facts.

“Did you know Al Capone got his nickname from a fight that took place in a brothel?” Jake said enthusiastically.

“Wow!” Olivia tries to sound interested, but I can tell she’s just humoring Jake. I laugh softly at Jake’s statement and just the idea of a fight in a brothel. I picture half-naked men and shrieking women.

Olivia, Bill and I are listening to Jake tell us about the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre when I get this familiar, foreboding feeling. I look over my shoulder toward the bar then scan the dining room. When my eyes land on a man sitting at a table alone, I have to do a double take. I must seriously be going insane. Is that Yuri? I turn away and look back at my menu. No! That can't be him. Maybe all these dreams of Yuri are messing with my brain. I lift my eyes and look back toward the table with the man wearing the fedora.

I lock eyes with him and am instantly shocked and confused. I shake my head as I look away and squeeze my eyes shut. That’s it, I’m going nuts! Ok Charlotte, get a grip! I look back at the table one last time and he stands abruptly and heads for the door! Yup, you are definitely losing your mind! Get it together! I rub at my temples just as more beers appear on the table.

“You okay Charlotte? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Bill says looking concerned.

“Yea. I’m fine. I just need some fresh air, um, I’ll be right back,” I say as I rush outside and inspect the people walking along the sidewalk, just to make sure I am not hallucinating. I look up and down the street a few times but I don’t see anyone. I decide to take a quick walk around the block in both directions before admitting defeat and heading back inside.

As I walk back to the table, I’m starting to think I’m actually going crazy; however, once I’m immersed in more conversation, the night starts to go by pretty quickly. We drink and talk about work. True to form, Jake starts bringing up more facts about Al Capone which segues into a weird conversation.

I’m surprised when Oliva starts talking about an odd turf war she’s been seeing on the news. I guess there are two organized crime syndicates downtown.

Olivia starts off by saying, “I mean we all know the Italians have been all over Chicago for ages. This used to be Al Capone’s place after all! Apparently, the Russians are trying to worm their way into Italian territory.” She sounded a little too excited about the prospect of a couple of mob families going to war where we live and work.

I decide to pipe in, “That sounds like a fun story to assist one of the reporters in writing about; although, you’ll definitely want to be careful. I am pretty sure mob families don't like their business being splashed all over the paper.”

I love stories like that. The investigation. The political fallout. How the police respond and what they do to help the general public, really gets my blood boiling.

Curious, I ask, “Are you working on that story Olivia?”

“I was talking to Bryce about it and he said there was no story there, so I am back to researching this Vegan Epidemic that is apparently taking over the North Side,” She says rolling her eyes. “Like rich people don’t have enough going on? Now they need to boycott beef too!” She chuckles, then sighs again, “This is going to be the most boring research project of my career.” I can't help but laugh to myself about her plight because Bill has me writing a puff piece called Fashion or Crashin’ and I can’t help but feel the same.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that Bryce doesn’t want to pursue the story?” I ask. “Even if there’s nothing substantial… that would be a great research project just to get your feet wet as an intern.”

Olivia doesn’t respond right away, but I can tell she’s turning it over in her mind.

“If it makes you feel any better, Bill over here,” I say, patting Bill’s shoulder and giving him a half smile, “Has me on fashion crash duty. I get to go through all the images from last week’s awards ceremonies and figure out what the critics will love or hate. I need another drink just thinking about it.”

I know it’s only my first week, but I had high hopes that since my portfolio showed I had a big interest in politics and the police, that maybe I would be assigned those types of stories. But no, Bill said it will help beef up my portfolio and show some diversity in my writing if I work on some alternative pieces. In other words, no one else would do it so he passed it onto the new girl.

“Ugh! Fashion is the worst,” Olivia says with a small sympathetic smile. I can tell she feels sorry for me, but at the same time, she’s thankful it isn’t her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. We chat some more about our monthly assignments, but I am barely able to pay attention to my co-workers anymore.

“Hey guys, I’m going to call an Uber and head home,” I say around 11:30. I’m just proud of myself for at least leaving my apartment. I am exhausted, buzzed, and really just want to be alone with my thoughts and get a good night's sleep.

I say goodbye to my boss and coworkers and start walking to the door to wait for my Uber.

“Wait up!” I turn around and Olivia links arms with me. “Thanks for what you asked about Bryce earlier and the story about the mob.” She takes a few breaths, hesitates then continues, “It’s hard to get up the nerve to challenge the established journalists, you know?”

“Yeah. I get it. Do you think you’ll ask Bryce about it again?” I asked intrigued.

“I don’t want to make waves. I don’t think I am going to. I find the mob interesting, don’t get me wrong...”

“No. I get it. You don’t want to come across as a problem or as someone difficult.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “Well, thanks for coming out tonight Charlotte. It was really nice to get to know you a bit.”

“I enjoyed our conversation. Good night Olivia. See you Monday!” We part ways just as my Uber arrives.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to get back to my apartment because I am so tired my bones ache. As I get out of the Uber and walk toward my door, I shiver and the hairs on the back of my neck seem to stand up. I whirl around squinting, looking in the shadows, seeing if anyone’s there, but I don’t see anything. I turn back toward my building.

“Great! I move to the big city alone and now I’m getting even more paranoid ,” I whisper. Shaking my head, I enter the code to get into my building. I get my keys out for the second door before checking my mailbox and making my way up the three flights of stairs to my door. “Why have an elevator in a huge apartment building in the city?” I mumble sarcastically.

Once I’m inside the safety of my apartment, I throw my keys in the sea shell-shaped bowl next to the door and toss my purse on the couch. I make my way into the kitchen, pour myself a glass of water, and then plop on the couch with my laptop. I turn on the TV and navigate the app screen. I head straight to my go-to movie series, The Hunger Games. Of course!

Once I have the movie playing, I grab my laptop and check all my socials, scrolling through posts mindlessly, checking on my friends, and answering any messages they may have sent while I was out. Then I open my potential stories folder and flesh out some details Oliva mentioned about the two crime syndicates to look into later. I mean if they aren't going to look into it, maybe I can. It could be exhilarating to research this on the side. Plus, it’d be a good way to find an in with the local cops and detectives for future stories.

Two and a half hours later, I’m exhausted! Half asleep, I shut off the TV and inch my way to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I wander into my bedroom and throw my clothes from the day on the floor while grabbing an oversized t-shirt. Next, I wrap myself up like a burrito in my down comforter and nuzzle into my pillow for some well-deserved sleep. I think about how weird this week has been as I drift off to sleep.