The Marionette Chapter 3
Shannon made a second home at Stubbs Bluewater Pub, a local watering hole that managed to survive the pandemic due to an entire community whose devotion to alcohol and unhealthy bar food was second only to the church. It was Cherry Harbor’s oldest bar that, like many others, made relationships , broke hearts, built many families as well as destroyed a few.
It was ten minutes prior to the start of her shift that she questioned whether she made the right choice to come in. Yesterday’s storm had come and gone, leaving behind a dirty canvas of a sky. Wisps of ashen clouds mixed with splashes of burning pink.
Where did he come from? Shannon struggled to understand how the man had appeared again after so many years. She closed her eyes and a painful memory tried to surface — fighting the urge to remember it just like one fights the urge to leap from the edge of a waterfall.
The smell of the bar was usually the first impression one got when stepping into Stubbs. An aroma of wood and old beer that mingled with cheap pizza and over-sauced buffalo wings. Shannon had grown used to it. Even if it follows her home, trapped in the fibers of her clothes.
Only a few stools were occupied when she made her entrance. These guys were regulars, men in their sixties who had recently retired and filled their time drinking cheap beer and playing Keno. Ignoring their banter was the young lady behind the bar pretending to be too busy counting the cash register.
“Hey Emily,” Shannon said, catching the girl’s attention.
A smile washed over Emily’s face. “What’s up, bosslady!”
Emily, the petite little firecracker, had the ability to draw men of all ages from their homes, boats, and offices. It was good for business. Shannon could tell from the day she hired her that she would be a fun and valuable asset.
“Randy here?” Shannon asked.
“He’s in back putting away the liquor order,” Emily said as she thumbed through the singles in the drawer.
Randy Stubbs had owned the bar since the seventies. He was old fashioned and insisted the bar be ran as such — a dated mindset that drove Shannon nuts when it came time to do her duties as the General Manager.
She took her time walking back to the office, passing by the kitchen and overhearing the disembodied laughter of line cooks from inside the walk-in cooler. Inside the office was the adjoining liquor room where she found Randy crouched painfully low.
“Need help with that?” Shannon asked.
Randy grunted. “Nah. Just about finished up here.” The sound of bottles clinking together followed. “Fuckin’ truck came late yesterday and forgot half our order.”
“You’re shittin’ me.” Shannon wasn’t surprised at all, only pretending to be concerned for the old man’s sake.
“Yeah,” he said. “So eighty-six the Jame-oh and Johnny Black.”
“Heard.”
Randy’s knees cracked as he stood. “Well…you look like shit.”
Shannon smiled. “Thanks, Randy.” She patted his shoulder and cocked her neck. “You too.”
Randy took a seat. “Jesus, my back.”
“You should cut back on the grunt work around here,” Shannon said. “That’s what you pay us for.”
He waved it off. “Lost power yesterday too,” he said. “Hour and a half I sat out there talking to the folks from the Chamber Of Commerce about that damn festival in December.”
Shannon nodded. “My day sucked too,” she said. “Spent the day cleaning up our back yard. Tornado went right over the house.”
“Damn kid. Everything good?” He asked. “Any damage?”
“Just some tree limbs. Nothing terrible,” Shannon said.
Randy nodded. “Good. Good,” he said. “Strange having a storm like that this time of year.”
Emily knocked at the open door. “Hey, Shannon…” she said. “Can you grab me a bottle of Jameson? These guys killed the last of it.”
Shannon raised her brow and half-smiled. “Guess what?”
Emily cocked her head. “What?”
“We’re out. Truck fucked up and forgot to bring it,” Shannon explained.
Emily dropped her shoulders, rolling her eyes. “Fuck.”
“I’ll run to the party store and grab a couple bottles,” Randy said. “No sense in going all weekend without.”
Shannon ignored the phone vibrating in her back pocket, excusing herself from the office. The front of the house remained empty— leaving only the mingled sound of drunken banter and sports announcers on the TV behind the bar. She sat at a vacant table, the one she calls “her office”, thumbing through a small stack of time off requests, yet her mind was not slowing down to allow the processing of words. She was troubled.
Her phone vibrated once more and as before, she ignored the device’s relentless stream notifications. Shannon forced herself to focus on the requests that sat beside a print-out calendar for the month of October. That focus was broken with a sudden outburst of laughter from the older gentlemen at the bar.
Frustrated, she stood. “Hey, Emily.” She paused, waiting for the girl to look her way. “I’m stepping outside for a few if you need me.”
Emily grinned, shooting a double thumbs-up high above her head.
The patio was empty; the only sign of life had been a cigarette butt left smoldering in an ashtray— stray ribbons of smoke curled into the air. She sat, took in a deep breath and exhaled. An old pickup passes by on First Street, momentarily obscuring her view of Lake Huron, giving her reason to look at her phone.
Hey babe! Love and miss you!!
She was thankful for Trent’s attentiveness. Dating before he came along had been one disappointment after another. The most recent being a man from Marysville; a roofer and drug addict, the latter of which he hid well until he had gotten too comfortable around her. She caught on once her stuff started disappearing and that was the last time she dated someone she met at work.
Love you too!! She responded.
The cold was beginning to sink in as the day’s final moments gave way to dusk.
Several more guests had filled the seats inside, just not enough to make for a busy evening. The rail was lined with those favoring cheap beer and well whiskey over anything else. The cooks churned out their final orders of buffalo wings and burgers before shutting the kitchen down, leaving Emily and Shannon as the only remaining staff.
As midnight neared, the crowd had died down to the usual handful of regulars who insisted on remaining through last call. With the doors locked and the last customer out the door, Shannon prepped the deposit and Emily finished restocking.
The phone rang.
“Shannon, you got a call,” Emily shouted to the back.
Who the hell would be calling me now? She walked to the front where Emily handed her the cordless handset.
“Shannon here.”
She flinched, pulling her ear away as a voice filled with gravel poured through. “Shannon…Shannon. It’s been a long time—”
“Who is this?”
“Look up and look down…no strings can be found. When the eyes close and the lips part, soon the body’ll come apart. From hell it comes and in the dark, just lead with this remark…Marionette, Marionette, tell me a secret.”
She gasped and tossed the phone. “Get it the fuck away from me.”
“What?” Emily ran over. “What happened?”
Shannon’s face paled with fear. Her body trembled. Emily gripped her arms with damp, cold hands. “Shannon,” she said. “You okay?”
“Uh...” Shannon paused. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Who was that on the phone?”
“Just some creep messing around.”
“Creep? I thought it was your daughter.” Uncertainty carried in her voice.
“Daughter? No. That definitely wasn’t Sylvia.” Shannon explained. “Let’s go ahead and finish up here.”