Page 13 of Caroled
“Do you think she will have anything useful to tell us?” Tenrael asked as they walked up the sidewalk.
“Maybe. People meet in diners and forget the waitresses have ears.”
Only a block away was one of the other places on their list, The Black Cat Café. According to the notes in Ferencz’s careful hand, bohemians and homosexuals frequented the place, along with the expected crew of soldiers and sailors. It was crowded inside, and the noise hit Charles like a blow as soon as he opened the door. Men and women of all descriptions sat at close-set tables, drinking, talking, and laughing; waiters moved among them, carrying drinks from a long bar; and a tall woman in a long green dress stood on a table and sang.
Charles found them a spot at a little table near a corner. While Tenrael took in the boisterous crowd and the ornate chandeliers, Charles waved down a waiter. “Two whiskeys, neat. And a glass of water.”
Tenrael raised his eyebrows after the waiter had gone. “Whiskeys?” If Charles hadn’t possessed exceptional hearing, Tenrael would have had to shout.
“Need to order something in a place like this.”
He paid the waiter for the drinks, then showed Tenrael how to surreptitiously spill the liquor onto the floor a little at a time. As long as you took care, nobody would notice; the joint was far too busy. So they sat and spilled their drinks as they looked around and listened to the music. Charles couldn’t discern anything to be concerned about, and Tenrael seemed to be having such a good time that they lingered long after their glasses were dry.
They walked slowly through the mostly empty streets, the silence echoing in Charles’s head. “Well, tonight’s been pretty much a bust,” he said.
“But we had fun, did we not?”
Charles shot him a quick look, taking in the bounce of his steps and the sparkle in his human-looking eyes. “Want to go to one more bar?” he asked.
“Yes. I would like that.”
The list contained a half-dozen other spots within easy walking distance. Charles turned toward the Embarcadero, more from a desire to be near water than from an inkling that they’d dig up any information there. The Sea Dog was a wooden building with peeling white paint, squatting near the entrance to one of the piers, its façade partially hidden behind an enormous pile of ropes and buoys. It seemed poor and miserable, huddled between a seafood restaurant and a nautical supply shop. Behind the buildings, the water of the Bay lapped at the pier’s supports.
The inside of the Sea Dog was pretty much as Charles had expected: rickety wooden tables and chairs crowded together on a dirty floor; the mingled reek of old beer and sweat; longshoremen and sailors, bleary-eyed and mostly quiet. This wasn’t a gathering spot for the city’s avant-garde and adventurous but rather a place where men came to get drunk. And they chose it not for ambience but for location, likely being the first bar they found once their feet hit dry land.
But the Sea Dog had one feature Charles hadn’t expected. A boy dressed in chinos and a gray sweater sat on a stool on a tiny, ramshackle stage, singing. Well, maybe he was a man and not a boy; it was hard to tell. He looked like a cupid from a painting, with a sweet round face, bow lips, and a mop of unruly pale hair. His huge sad eyes contrasted with the sappy upbeat song.
“‘You Are My Sunshine’?” Charles muttered to himself. Not the type of music he’d normally associate with a dump like this. Yet none of the customers seemed to notice. They stared at their glasses or at the boy, expressions blank. Maybe they were all too drunk to register the lyrics.
The boy watched Charles and Tenrael as they made their way through the crowd and perched on stools at the bar, the only seats available.
“Whattaya want?” growled the bartender, who was almost as muscular as Tenrael but a lot uglier. He looked as if he’d run into a brick wall several times in his life.
“Whiskeys.” Charles realized with a sinking feeling that it was going to be almost impossible to spill his drink here. Dammit. But he couldn’t very well walk out now.
The bartender poured and Charles paid, and when the fellow gave him a baleful look, Charles took a swig. It took all his will not to shudder and retch, but at least the man seemed satisfied. Tenrael, on the other hand, swallowed his down in one go, as easily as if it were water. Which it might as well have been, because alcohol had no effect on him whatsoever. He could drink a barrel of the stuff and remain perfectly sober. He wouldn’t get sick either, a fact that made Charles envious.
The bartender moved away and Tenrael leaned in close. “You will regret drinking that.”
“I know.”
If he was going to feel miserable, he might as well make good use of his time until then. He examined the customers carefully, looking for any signs that they weren’t fully human, but he didn’t find any.
The boy onstage sang “Deep in the Heart of Texas” and “Ferryboat Serenade” and “Pennsylvania 6-5000,” and if there was any rhyme or reason to his musical choices, Charles couldn’t discern it. The kid had a nice voice, though, nicer than a joint like this deserved. And he was far too pretty for this crowd. Maybe he made extra dough turning tricks when the singing was over. If so, Charles didn’t blame him, but he hoped the boy was doing so willingly. Maybe Charles could get more information from the bartender.
“I’m from out of town,” he said when the bartender came to refill Tenrael’s glass and frown at Charles’s half-finished one.
“So?”
“Friends recommended this place. Their names are Donne and Ferencz.”
A flicker of emotion crossed the man’s face, but Charles couldn’t read it. After a pause, the bartender growled, “Ain’t gonna get you no discount.”
“I wasn’t expecting one.” Charles steeled himself for another swallow of whiskey. It didn’t go down any easier than the previous ones. “My friends didn’t mention you had music here.”
Now the bartender looked uncomfortable, his gaze shifting quickly to the side and then to the boy. “It’s new. For Christmas.”
The Sea Dog didn’t seem like a place that would celebrate much, and there were no other festive signs, but Charles didn’t argue the point. “Do you offer other entertainments as well?”
