"All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible."

-T.E. Lawrence

A thought tickled my mind whilst I marveled at the iridescent shimmer of a faerie's delicate gossamer wings. Would this sight ever cease to amaze?

She flitted around in the starlight with so much grace. Besides me, the only onlookers of her elegant pirouettes were the mice, the owls, the moon, and the stars.

It was a chilly night in autumn, lit up by the waxing gibbous at rest high in the sky. The faerie weaved her way through the meadowland, kicking up dandelion spores in the process. The fluff swirled past an abundance of rare and beautiful flowers, whose dewdrops caught the moonlight like a spider catches a fly in its web.

She perched on a bed of moss and rock nearby some black elfin saddle mushrooms. There was a patch of clovers a short distance away from the tall grass that hid me from view. I crouched low on the edge of the forest, near a trickling stream that curled its way down through the woods and briefly kissed the meadow before winding down to rest in a shallow creek bed.

The faerie had wildflowers woven through hair that spilled over pale skin and touched straps that hung loosely from her shoulders. The flowy ombre dress she wore ranged from shades of indigo to mulberry. The colors were reflected in the deep purple clouds gathering overhead.

The wind blew in ferocious gusts. I pulled my hood over my head, shielding myself from the tempest. Wisps of midnight whipped her face like a cat-o'-nine-tails, drawing my gaze to slanted brown eyes that twinkled in the moonshine.

The fey creature tried desperately to grab onto something but she was tossed about like a rag doll in the suddenly black weather. The tainted sky was now consumed with wrathful clouds, which spat out torrents of rainwater that made me shiver.

I was just about to try to do something to help her but as I pushed up with my hands to lift myself off of the muddy earth, something extraordinary happened. Her long pitch hair lost its pigment in a manner of which the lack of color coiled from roots to tips the way an ember of incense does when you set a match to it, until all of her hair was pure white.

Her figure shuddered, causing me to gape as she grew almost as tall as the trees around me. She placed her hands palm out in front of her and murmured words in a strange language. As she spoke, tattoos marking the palms of her hands glowed cerulean.

As she continued her chanting, she raised her hands above her head and the glow was pushed forth. It materialized into an energy shield with intricate markings, deflecting the storm from herself and her wild garden. My eyes were glued to the faerie, whose figure shimmered as if she could slip away at any moment.

My fantasy realm came to a rolling halt as a particular voice—perhaps the one that, at that point, irritated me the most in the world— expressed a not-so-wanted opinion regarding my reveries, as John often does in the most self-satisfyingly arrogant manner possible. "Ames!" I wish he wouldn't call me that, I thought sullenly.

"Yes, sire?" I laid the sarcasm on quite thickly. I could almost feel how my hair had been matted to my face and my clothes had been soaked through just a moment before. A shiver rolled through my body.

I couldn't help but to hope that the faerie was okay but I shrugged off the thought. These daydreams were beginning to get out of hand. They felt all too real.

I turned my attention back to the boss. His face turned its customary shade of red as he began his ritual of ranting at me about this and that. "First off, it's MISTER Grandfield to you. And there are tables to clean and glasses to wash. Don't just stand there with your head up your ass!"—did I mention he is a lovely person?—"Do something useful, useless girl!" Of course, this was nothing. He hadn't gotten all up in my face and his vein wasn't yet popping out of his forehead. This level of huffiness was manageable.

One time, he actually said, "You're lucky you're pretty because you have nothing else going for you, stupid girl," in front of customers. Oh, and let's not forget when he got drunk and threw beer on me because I got too sassy. So, why did I continue to work there, you ask? Well, the answer to that question boils down to a lack of jobs that exist in that podunk town, low self-esteem, and of course the obvious one: the money.

"Yes, sir! Mr. Grandfield, sir!" In a mock act of respect, I raised my hand in salute (to which he grunted and vaguely muttered something disdainful) and turned on my heel towards the double basin sink, where there rested a pile of dishes in need of my attention. I filled the basins with hot water, liberally added dish soap to the first, and poured as little as possible of a foul-smelling chemical solution to the second. The first basin was where the glasses were washed and the second was where they were dropped in to disinfect them. Frankly, I wondered whether that stuff was good for your health.

Seeming satisfied that I was on the right track, Grandfield retreated to his office to do what I imagine was totally boring paperwork. On second thought, he was probably just watching some sort of sport-related something on the little TV he kept in his office. As long as he wasn't bothering me, I really didn't care. I let my thoughts drift as my hands fell into their routine without much instruction from my brain.

Well, I would've rather been back at university continuing my studies than there tending bar for a bunch of Hoosiers. But, hey, c'est la vie and all that jazz. Mom needed me there so there I was—living in downtown Patricksburg, Indiana (as much downtown as you can get in an unincorporated community). For the moment anyway.

Yep, I had big dreams of finishing my degree and becoming a world-renowned author…or at least getting published. When hothead was too involved with his television to notice and when I was not preoccupied with my thoughts, I scribbled down lines on whatever I could use. Most often it was sticky notes, napkins, and receipts that customers didn't want. Hey, it probably isn't the best method but you can leave any remarks you have on that in the suggestion box at the end of this chapter.

The bell on the door signaled the entrance of a customer. I gladly ditched the dishes. I asked how-do-you-do in my best customer-service voice, as the tall raven-haired man lithely made his way to the bar. He removed his blazer and placed it on the back of a barstool.

"Fine, thanks," he offered in a crisp, clear-cut voice. "Could I get a scotch-on-the-rocks, please?" Each word was articulated in a careful manner, as such he took his time in speaking. He dressed smartly (unlike the typical type to enter that bar) in a black, expensive-looking suit with slacks that were accentuated with light-colored pinstripes and a silk tie featuring a gorgeous pin-up style mermaid with long, dark locks.

Before he got too comfortable in his chosen seat, I made sure he knew that this teensy bar was not equipped to serve 21st century businessmen like himself. Here's what I mean: "Sure, but we don't take cards here—" I pointed to a cash-only sign above the cash register "—Mister…"

His head turned in the direction that my finger indicated, towards the other end of the bar. As a result, I got a peek of the edge of a tattoo popping out from underneath his collar on the back of his neck. He had a sweet undershave and a mass of short curly hair on the top of his head. "William Morgan. You can call me Will."

"All right, Will. Nice to meet you. Name's Riona. Anyway, sorry for the inconvenience."

He flashed a self-assured smile at me. Dressed to the nine and he had all his teeth? The ladies in town are going to go crazy for this guy. "Don't worry, I have cash."

"All righty, then." I got a glass down from the cabinet and scooped ice from the ice box into his glass and poured him a little more than the amount I was trained to pour him, since Grandfield was preoccupied and this guy looked like he could tip more than the regulars. "So, where are you from? Obviously not from around these parts."

"No, I am definitely not from around here," he chuckled a little to himself as if the idea of hailing from Marion County, Indiana was laughable. "I come from a mountain town very far from here." Vague much? I waited for him to continue but he wasn't giving me more information so I prodded.

"Oh, yeah? Where's that at?"

He hesitated before mumbling, "Nowhere of consequence." After which, he averted his eyes, which were a light hue of blue in case you were wondering. I took the hint and moved on to a different topic.

"Sooo, what brings you to Patricksburg?"

He took a sip of his drink before commenting, "Business."

"Oh, yeah?" What business could he possibly have in this bumfuck town?

"Yeah." His lip turned up at the corner and he took another sip of his drink. I got the funny feeling that I wasn't going to be getting much out of this guy.

I gestured to the TV behind the bar, which I only flipped on when customers came in. "Would you like to watch something?"

"As you wish." Admittedly, I was hoping he would say something along those lines.

Abandoning the TV all together, I walked through the little swinging door that separated my space from customer's space and sauntered over to the digital jukebox in my tight bedazzled sure-to-get-tips jeans. I smoothed a wrinkled bill against the corner of the machine and inserted it before I chose a few of my favorite songs for the queue.

Hopefully Grandfield was too absorbed with his "paperwork" to notice. This irritated him to no end. It was no secret that he hated my song choices. I retreated back to my work station to tend to my one and only customer. Pretty soon, the regulars would be rolling in. He eyed me as I made my way back to him. "Do you like working here?"

My eyes darted towards the boss's office. I shrugged, "It pays the bills."

"What would you rather be doing?" It seemed as if he was better at asking questions than responding to them. It was all the same to me. I told him about my plans to go back to school after I was done here and hopefully get somewhere as a writer one day.

"Why don't you go to school now?"

"I'm here helping my mom out for a while." I wasn't sure if he saw something in my expression that I didn't mean to show a stranger, but his face turned sympathetic after that. Luckily, the bell chimed again and one of my regulars walked in to interrupt the track of that conversation.

"Well, hey there, Eva." I greeted the old woman as she hobbled through the door and slowly made her way to a place at the bar next to the new guy.

"William!" she exclaimed as soon as she saw his face. She threw her frail arms around him.

"Hello there, Evangeline. It's been a while."

I'm pretty sure my mouth dropped open, "You guys know each other?"

She bobbed her head up and down exuberantly. "He and I go way back. It's nice to see someone from the old days." My mind boggled. The old days? Just how long ago were the old days? This guy didn't look that much older than I was. At that point, I was pretty sure the senile woman was getting him confused with his father or something.

He tilted his head in confusion. "But isn't John here?"

"Yeah, but he's an old crankpuss. You know how he feels about this place."

An angry voice materialized. "I heard that!" Grandfield was making his way towards them. I hadn't even noticed him leave his office. I scurried back to my dish pile.

"Who let this riffraff into my bar?" my boss exclaimed as he patted the newcomer forcefully on his back. My confusion caused my eyes to zero in on the clean, polished appearance of the businessman. Riffraff?

I was fairly certain I caught William mid eye roll, as he turned his torso to face the patron of this junk shed of a bar. Sarcasm colored his tone, "John…pleasure."

Grandfield's tone softened as he turned towards the old lady, "Evangeline, ma'am." He tilted his head in greeting, "Evening."

He then turned back to the newcomer. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he admitted, "But I'm somewhat glad to see you, considering you're about to take care of my…problem. Come," He gestured towards his office," Let's go talk somewhere more private."

"Give me a minute, John. Let me catch up for just a moment longer and I'll be right there."

To my surprise, the old man caved. Usually he was all me, me, me—right now! "All right, but make it quick. We have business to attend to." He focused his attention towards me, "AMES, get the nice lady a drink!" Then he retreated to his closet of an office.

It did take me a tad bit longer than usual to get to my customer, considering my outright shock at the discussion. I grabbed Eva a shiny, freshly-cleaned glass and poured her usual drink—a vodka and OJ, mostly ice. I had the sinking feeling that I'd been in this town too long if this was all it took to shock me. The unchanging typical bar drama had become all too familiar. Nothing exceptional ever happened.

Now, you don't know Evangeline Badeau so I'll fill you in. She doesn't have friends. Eva is a batty old woman who can barely exist in the now, let alone fraternize with wealthy young men like this (but you'll learn more about that later).

Not to mention the weird exchange between my boss and the new guy…

"Here you go, Eva—one screwdriver, extra ice."

Will chuckled, "I see your taste buds haven't changed these past few years."

She looked up at him from underneath her big, red cat-eye spectacles. "It's been too long."

If those two thought that I was above getting them drunk to pull information out of them then, boy, were they wrong.

"So, how did you two meet?" I asked, innocently pouring Mr. Several-Hundred-Dollar-Suit another drink.

His lip pulled up at the corner with his reply, "An old flame introduced us." His ex's grandma? Well, this was getting less interesting by the second…

"Oh, that's cool." I tried to fake the interest that I was rapidly losing. In an attempt to at least pull something out of these guys, the burning question in my mind introduced itself through the powers of no filter, "So, are you a hit man or something?" I thought Eva was going to spit out her drink as she pitched a fit of laughter. Will simply looked amused.

"What?" She exclaimed, "Don't be ridiculous!" Right, because I was the ridiculous one in this situation. Sure. I filled her glass as it emptied, as I knew she was far from finished. Another thing you should know about Ms. Badeau: she was an alcoholic. The reason behind the alcoholism was the interesting part, though. She drank to silence the voices, as she'd let me know many a drunken night.

"WILL!" I knew his uncharacteristic bout of patience was too good to last.

Mr. Morgan downed the rest of his drink before bidding us adieu. "So much for catching up," he muttered. "Well, ladies. I will talk to you more soon. I better go, before John loses his shit." If I could have drank on the job, that's how I would have prepped for every interaction with the boss man as well. He shut the door behind him after walking into the office.

"So what's his deal?" I gestured towards the closed door.

"Uh…" She looked as if she were deliberating how much she should tell me. That, or she was listening to one of the friends that came by to talk in her ear. I couldn't really tell with Crazy Pants.

Much to my extreme annoyance, she was saved by the bell, as another regular walked in. My customer-service voice was harder to fake this time, "Hey there, Ralph," considering who it was aimed at.

He took William's place next to Eva, who scooted to the edge of her seat, as far as she could get from Ralph as possible. I was pretty sure he didn't notice or if he did, he did not care. I set his Coor's Light bottle down in front of him.

My song selections had come to a halt just in the nick of time. Ralph preferred to watch the world fall apart from his bar stool so, naturally, I flipped the TV on and changed the channel to the news, then turned my attention to Eva.

It seemed less and less likely that my curiosity would be sated tonight, though. Eva chose this moment to go bonkers.

"You're looking lovely tonight, Titania," she spoke into the air with a dreamy look on her face. "We should be visiting quite soon. I quite miss the fresh air there." I tuned her out and went back to my dishes.

"Hey, schizo!" shouted Ralph, "I'm trying to watch the news here!" Ugh.

Eva blinked rapidly and peered with glazed over eyes in his general direction, "Sorry, did I say something to offend you?"

I stepped back over to them and waved my finger at him, hand on hip, "Don't start."

"What did I do?" He was incredulous. "I'm just trying to watch the news."

Mr. Morgan walked up behind Ralph and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Is there a problem here?"

Ralph's face turned white as he looked up at the man resting his tattooed fingers on his shoulder. He could talk shit all he wanted but he was yellow-bellied to his core.

He gulped. "Yeah, the problem is I'm trying to watch the TV." His resolve was weaker than a moment before, when he wasn't being scrutinized by a potential thug.

"Maybe you should show some respect for these ladies." He smiled menacingly and gestured towards us.

"You know what? I'm out of here! I can go drink beer at home. Beat's having to put up with this shit!" He slammed the door on his way out. Good riddance. Not like he'd tip me anyway.

Grandfield shouted from his office, apparently feeling too lazy to get back up off his ass. "Quit scaring my customers off!" I stuck my tongue out in his direction. Phooey on him. May all his bacon burn.

"Well, it's been fun, ladies, but I've got some business to take care of." He handed me a crisp Benjamin. "Keep the change." Was this guy serious? "See you soon, Evangeline. Lovely as ever." The old woman actually blushed. Keep it together, Eva. Sheesh.

"See you soon, toots," he spoke in a confident manner, winking at me. Ew, who talked like that? Just who did he think he was?

"You know where to find me," was the best response I could come up with. He walked away, with an air of confidence, walking like a cat who owned the place.

Eva was in la-la land for the rest of the evening, talking to herself per usual.

Some regulars dropped in, Grandfield got huffy then mercifully went home at some point, leaving me to run the bar in peace.