Tuesday - 12:57 a.m.
Tuesday nights at the club where I bartend part-time really suck.
I don't like it when I'm scheduled to work there on a Tuesday because the owner has a different "theme" night every night of the week and Tuesday night's theme is always horrible. It’s because Tuesday’s theme is usually "Tribute Band Night." I'd much rather work on "Lesbian Karaoke Hardcore Twister” night or "Dress as Your Favorite Icon of Corporate Oppression” night. I bet the tips are much better on those nights.
Luckily, I usually get to leave early. The bands tend to drive away the club's patrons before they even get through half of their first set. Take tonight's band, for example, they were a Stone Temple Pilots tribute band and they had emptied the place by their third song. They kept playing to an empty house though. Barely a soul in the entire bar, save for two passed out winos and me, yet they never once turned down the suck.
Only the really dedicated hardcore drunks stay it the whole, miserable time. I think they're numb to the effects of these bands and perhaps the massive amounts of alcohol ingested into their systems have given them other superpowers as well. Maybe they can see through lead or fly or something. Who knows, I’m never motivated enough to ask.
The only highlight of the evening came when my friend Daria, who I've known since I was three, came into the club. Daria and I were so close that we used to be mistaken for siblings while we were growing up. She had been living in San Francisco for a while and only had recently returned home. It was good to see her again; I used to visit her once a year out in San Francisco but hadn’t had a chance to get back out there since my parent’s murder. I thought she was moving back here permanently, but Daria told me that she had just gotten accepted into graduate school in Belgium. She leaves in January. I asked her if Belgium was located in France, and she said "it kind of should be when you think about it long enough."
Daria asked me when I was going to finish my degree, and I told her that I had taken some time off from school to concentrate on finding those responsible for the death of my parents. She asked me how that was going, and I told her that I had very few leads.
When I got home, I discovered that in addition to the debt collectors, Elkie had left a message on my machine saying that she had just read the letter that I found in the trunk that Shannon left me in her will.
Elkie said she wasn't going to give the letter back because I shouldn't read it at all and if I do, she should at least be present at the time.
Like an angel with a sword, she's clearly trying to protect me from something.