As my consciousness begins to surface the next morning, I am swimming in thoughts of everything I’ve seen, all the people I’ve met, and Door 42. This is going to get awesome! I take a deep breath and it smells nice, and gently hug down on something soft and warm that my arm is over, and it gives off a soft ‘Mmmm’ sound and snuggles back into me and…

Oh shit! Trina! I have (A raging erection! What? No! Maybe… Shut up brain! I need to think!) a situation here that could become rather sticky. Wait, that’s maybe not the way I really want to describe it. Whatever. It sure is nice though, all soft and warm and comfy, with her hand over mine pressing it up to her… um. I think I’ll just lay here and enjoy it for a while. I can’t see that I have anything more to lose at this point. I doze back off for a little while, enjoying the serene calm before what I’m afraid may be one hell of a storm.

An indeterminate amount of time later my eyes flutter open when I hear Trina say, “Mmmm,” followed shortly by, “It’s blue?!” in a very sleepy exclamation.

Making the best play I can think of, I nuzzle the back of her neck and say softly, sleepily, “Shh, this is nice, ok? Don’t ruin it,” I hedge my bet by squeezing her a bit more snugly against me so that if she starts thrashing around she’s less likely to do any real damage. I feel her tense up for a moment, and then relax with a heavy sigh.

“Yes, it is nice,” she says, and wiggles back against me a bit.

We lay there like that a bit longer, equal parts enjoying the moment and trying to figure out what to do about it next. Finally she rolls her shoulder toward me so she can look back over it at me in the dim, blue light.

“I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Well,” I consider my answer, “You just looked so sweet and peaceful lying there, and I thought to myself… You know, this might be my only chance to observe the wild, cocoa breasted mattress thrasher in her natural habitat.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, and smiles, and sniggers at this. Aha! That’s a point for me!

“Besides,” I say, “I got an angle for ya”

“Yeah, I feel that back there,” she giggles, “Can I see it? I’ve never seen one with an angle in it before.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. Boy, are we evenly matched.

“Touché. No, well, maybe, but that’s not the thing I was talking about.”

“Really? How many things have you got? Now I’m really curious!”

Oh my, I got off to a good start, but now she is rapidly running away with the match. Which is ok I guess, since she’s not scratching or biting or anything. Given this assessment, I decide I’m the real winner already and I can afford to let her score a few points on me.

“I just bet you are, missy! No, look, we’re going to open a bar.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You’ll see. Trust me, it’s a good angle and it’s gonna work.”

“Ok, you’ve got my attention.”

“Yes, I can see I have you in the palm of my hand.”

She looks down to where her hand is still holding mine against her breast, then turns back and gives me a look.

“Oh, whatever, you know you like it.”

She gives me another, slightly different look, and then relents with a sigh, “Yes, I guess I do. It’s… I let myself in for this, and you could have been a real jerk about it and, I like this better. Thanks for not being mad at me, I appreciate it,” she gives me a little kiss on the lips, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, we should probably get out of bed before Bethany gets here, or this could get even more awkward.”

“Oh shit! You’re right!”

And no sooner have I gotten to my feet and turned the room white again than Bethany walks in and stops dead in her tracks.

“Oh, no,” she looks at me, and then to Trina, “What did you do?!”

“It’s ok,” I say, gesturing between myself and Trina, “See, fully clothed. I asked her to come see me about a project I’m starting up.”

“Bullshit!” spits Bethany.

“Well, yes. But I really did want to talk to her about helping me out with it, and since she was asleep in my bed when I got back last night, I just figured I’d leave her there and we could talk about it in the morning. And here we are!”

“Trina!” exclaims Bethany, scandalized.

“I just,” says Trina, vaguely in the direction of the ceiling, “Anyway look, we’re getting along now. Ok? Besides,” she gives Bethany a sly, conspiratorial look, “He says he wants to show me his ‘angle’.”

Despite her attempt to keep a straight face, Bethany can’t quite manage it, “Ok, you two. If it’s good between you then I’m fine with it. But what the hell are you up to?”

“I just, I have to show you. Ok?” I say, “Just let me put on some shoes and grab my things.”

“He says he’s got more than one!” Trina stage whispers, and both girls glance at me and giggle.

I roll my eyes, put on my shoes, and pick up what’s left of the rum in one hand, and what’s left of the Luckys in the other, “Here you go. See? Thing one and thing two.”

“Aww, now I’m disappointed,” says Trina.

“Sorry baby, but that’s all you get,” I waggle my eyebrows, “For now.”

“You sure like keepin’ a girl in suspense, don’t you?”

“Come on, you two. We gotta go meet Al at the tram.”

Al is already waiting for us when we come walking up. He gives a curious look towards Bethany and Trina, then turns to me with a cocked eyebrow, “Recruiting for our cause already, are we?”

“Maybe, we’ll see how it shakes out. For now, that place is gonna need some sprucing up and I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“I’ll fix it with their teams,” he leans in conspiratorially and whispers, “I daresay there won’t be any complaints, so you’re good on that front,” his eyes dart to Trina, “I just hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“Not to worry. I am absolutely certain that I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Well then,” Al claps me on the shoulder, “I’d say you’re doing better than most.”

“Oh, yeah. Any headway on how I got in here, and the overseer stuff?”

“Some, yes. A few hints and clues have led us to some very old information that seems to be related. There’s quite a bit of it though, and it’s in an obsolete format for an obsolete system that we haven’t used for decades, so it will take some time to parse it out.”

“Good thing I’ve got Door 42 to keep me busy then.”

“That is a very good attitude, and I’m glad for it. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

Al streaks us around to the old side of town at the speed of a bolt of lightning slipping on a banana peel. When we disembark he waves, “See you kids later!” and zips off down the gleaming tramway. He’s really enjoying this.

“What are you going to do down here?” asks Bethany, as we walk down the hall.

“Well, it seems like a nice, quiet, older neighborhood, so I figured I’d move in.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” says Trina.

“Not even a little. Just wait, you’ll see.”

As we approach Door 42 I say, “See the shadows?”

“What do you mean?” asks Bethany.

“The dark areas where the light doesn’t quite reach. You don’t have them in the newer part of the structure, because every surface emits light. That’s got something to do with how I’m able to change the colors in there. Down here, light is emitted from individual points and spreads out. It gets blocked from certain angles and creates shadows. They make me feel at home. Where I’m from, this is the way light behaves.”

“Wow,” says Trina, “I never even thought about it, but it makes sense now that you say it. I’ve been down here a few times, and I always thought it seemed old and spooky, but I never really realized why until now.”

“Yeah, well, here we are!” as I swing open half of Door 42.

“In there?” Trina asks doubtfully.

“But it’s just a stack of old boxes,” observes Bethany.

“You just haven’t seen it yet,” as I slip in the door and flip on the lights.

“How?” says Bethany, as the girls follow me in.

“Ok,” says Trina, finally sensing an angle, “You know something we don’t.”

“Yeah, how a light switch works,” I take her hand and place her finger on the switch and flip it, “Off. On. Simple. See?”

“Simple, sure,” she gives me a look, “But how do you even know? I’ve never even seen one of these things before.”

“Hi!” I wave at her, “I’m not from here. This is how it’s done back home.”

“Oh. I guess I just never thought about it being any different. It’s just what we’re all used to. Wow,” her expression changes with understanding, “This must be a big adjustment for you.”

“That, would be an understatement. But hey, I’m not complaining! Now come on, let me show you what’s really goin’ on here,” and I slither my way around the crates.

“Wow!” says Bethany, “It’s so big!”

“I love hearing girls tell me that,” just kinda slips out before I can catch it.

“What, why?”

Trina smiles, shaking her head, and leans over and whispers in Bethany’s ear who says, “Oh. Huh?” another whisper, and then, “OH! You smartass!”

“Guilty as charged,” I smile, “Better than being a dumbass though.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” adds Trina, “So, pretty boy, just what are we going to do in here, anyway?”

“Aha! Now,” I gesture expansively at the bar, in all its brass and copper and mahogany glory, “This, my dear ladies, is a bar! And at this bar, we shall serve drinks!”

“It’s very nice,” says Bethany, looking somewhat confused, “And I understand it reminds you of home. But I don’t think anyone is going to come all the way out here for a cup of coffee.”

“Right,” I rub the bridge of my nose, “Not those kinds of drinks. We shall serve beverages that are not available elsewhere in this place,” I slide around behind the bar, “Allow me to demonstrate.”

They come over and take adjacent stools at the bar, which are like tall chairs upholstered in rich, dark red leather. I examine what I’ve got in stock and consider what to ply them with. This is a make or break moment, and it needs to be the right drink. They’re not ready for a real drink, I need to start them off with something sweet, maybe fruity, that doesn’t taste too much like real booze. You know, a girly drink. Except that I don’t really know any. I’ve always been more of a single malt scotch, neat, kinda guy. Everything I’m seeing right now is pretty righteous stuff, but too hardcore for baby’s first bottle. Then I spot a slide top cooler down at the other end of the bar and go to give it a look, without holding out much hope. I slide it open and, holy shit! It’s cold! And there’s stuff in there! I wait for the frost fog to clear a bit and then dive in up to my armpits. There’s several flavors of schnapps, a variety of chilled liqueurs, and several bottles of Irish cream. Now we’re talkin’! There’s also a bunch of cartons of cigarettes stuffed down in one end. Sweet! Luckys, Camels, Pall Malls, Galouises, and Chesterfields (wow, haven’t seen those for a while). I have a plan. I pull out a bottle of Irish cream, and a pack of Pall Malls from the cooler. Then I rummage around in the drawers back here until I find the bent spoon that just had to be there. I set out three old fashioned glasses, and layer us up a round of B-52’s. That oughta’ do…

“Here you go, girls,” I set the drinks on the bar, “wrap your lips around those and tell me what you think.”

They take tentative, exploratory sips, and there’s an, “Mmm,” and a, “Hey, that’s good!”

Excellent, my inner evil genius is winning!

“What is this?” asks Trina.

“It’s called a B-52,” I answer, “Once we get this place organized, I’ll show you how to make ‘em.”

“You’re on!” she says.

“You’re right,” says Bethany, “You certainly can’t get anything like this anywhere else here. And it’s such an interesting room. Your idea might work.”

“It’ll work. Wait ‘till it kicks in.”

“What?” and I get slightly suspicious looks from both of them.

“Don’t worry, you’ll like it. You’ll see.”

And they do see, and they do like it, and by the time we are on our third B-52 we are exploring the bar in very high spirits. I walk over to have a closer look at the bandstand. There are instruments just sitting there, and they look to be in pretty good shape. An electrified archtop guitar and a smallish amp, upright bass, drum kit, and a baby grand piano. There are some horn cases and other stuff lined up against the wall. This part is a little eerie for me, it’s like the band took a break, seventy years ago, and just never came back. I pick up the guitar, expecting the strings to be rusty, useless trash, but they’re still slick and shiny. Then I remember that this whole place is like a big, climate controlled clean room. I check the tuning and straighten it out, it’s not off by much. Chunk a couple of chords, the intonation seems pretty good, and rip a few little blues licks. The action is a little stiff for my taste, but low enough and without much fret rattle. It’ll do. I haven’t noticed the girls come over.

“You can play that?” asks Bethany.

“Sure. I mean, people here do play music, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” says Trina, “But it’s not real common. I mean, plenty of people try it out when they’re younger, but not many ever get very good. Most folks just kind of lose interest after a while.”

“That sounds just like everywhere else I’ve been. Are there any bands here? You know, groups that play together regularly?”

“Yeah. They mostly just get together in an empty room somewhere and play. But sometimes they’ll play at parties or special events, or put on little performances in the mall. Mostly they work from pages, but a few, especially the younger ones, try to work out their own music.”

“That’s encouraging,” I examine the amp, find the switch, and flip it on. The tubes light up and after a minute it starts humming along. Ok then, I’ll rock it until it smokes and then start looking for the parts stash. I crank it ’till it squeals and then back it off a bit to try and keep the archtop under wraps. “Anyone play anything like this?” and I whip out Hideaway.

When I’m done, the girls are standing there looking like they’re not sure what just happened, or whether they liked it or not. They’re not sticking their fingers in their ears, so I’m guessing they didn’t dislike it. I hope.

“Wow! What was that?” comes a voice from back by the door. We all look over and it’s Todd and Christi. Actually, maybe more like Christi and Todd, she’s already halfway across the room and he’s still back by the door. I bet she made him bring her down here for more rum.

“More rum!” pipes up Christi with a big smile and her hands on her hips in a posture that says ‘I’m friendly, and bubbly, and I’m not leaving until I get rum.’

“See?” I say to Trina and Bethany with a big smile as I turn off the amp and set down the guitar, “Liquor and live music brings the crowds in! It’s working already!”

They watch the scene dumbstruck as I step off the bandstand and head towards the bar, saying to Christi, “Step up to the bar, young lady, and let me see what I can do for you.”

Everyone eventually gathers at the bar and I pour drinks, and drink drinks, and wipe glasses, and smoke cigarettes, and feel just like a real bartender. We spend hours talking about the plans for the place and discussing how to make it work. Everyone is firmly convinced now that it is a good idea, and people will like it. Todd mentions someone he had classes with, says he has long hair and is always nodding his head to some kind of loud music in his earphones he always wears. Apparently it sounds a little like what I played.

“His name’s Ralph, if I see him I’ll tell him about you and Door 42,” Todd says.

“Thanks,” see, the name’s already catching on.

Further hours of conversation lead to yawns and drooping eyelids, and finally Todd prying Christi away from the bar.

“Aw, but I wanna stay,” she whines, but not very convincingly.

“C’mon, it’s late. We should go,” says Todd. I give him a thumbs up for that.

“Oh, ok,” she pouts, and then grabs him and gives him a big kiss on the cheek, which makes him blush scarlet. Then she turns to me and says, “If there’s anything we can do to help, you just let us know. Ok? I think this place is great!” and allows Todd to lead her away.

If they weren’t an item before, they definitely are now. They’re good kids, I hope it works out for them.

“Thanks!” I say as they squeeze around the crates, “And tell all your friends about us!”

“We will!” and then they’re gone.

“Well,” says Bethany, “This is certainly not what I expected when you brought us down here this morning. I’m not sure what I did expect, but it was definitely NOT this. This has been really good!” she smiles and stands and sways a bit, “Oh, it suddenly seems like a very long way back to my bed,” she sits back down, “Maybe I’ll just sit here for awhile.”

“Yeah, I started you girls pretty early. I’m surprised you’ve hung in as well as you have. Maybe you should stay here with me tonight.”

“Watcha’ got in mind, pretty boy?” says Trina with a wicked grin.

“Yeah,” sniggers Bethany with a new smile that I haven’t seen on her before, it is mildly predatory, “You gonna show us your ‘angle’?” at which they both dissolve into giggles.

I get between them, wrap my arms under theirs, and we bob and weave our way up the stairs to the apartment door. Just inside the door are two switches. I flip the first one and the lights in the bar go out. Wow, it’s really, really dark in here. We’re floating in blank space for a moment until my fingers find the second switch and the lights in the living room come on. Ok, better. I deposit them on the couch, and suddenly am very tired.

“Ow, so bright,” says Bethany.

“Yeah,” I go around the rooms and switch on a few lamps, and then turn off the overheads so that the whole place is bathed in a warm shadowy glow. There’s just enough light to not run into any of the big furniture.

“Better?” I ask.

“Much,” sighs Bethany.

“So, what now?” yawns Trina.

“Well,” I gesture around the apartment, “Kitchen’s over there, haven’t checked it, don’t know if there’s anything in there, probably don’t want it if there is. Bathroom’s over there. Bedroom’s there, and that’s mine. So, you know, you got the couch, that chair with the ottoman, this lovely oriental rug, there ya’ go. I’m beat.” I yawn big, “See you in the morning,” and kind of float to the bed and just flop down on it, kicking my shoes off over the side.

I straighten up and stretch out and get comfortable. This bed is not too bad, a little soft for my taste but I get the feeling it hasn’t been used that much, ever. And right now it feels like floating on a cloud after being on my feet behind a bar all day. Out in the living room I hear murmuring, and settling, and resettling, and more murmuring, and finally footsteps coming into the bedroom.

“My, that sure is a big bed,” says Trina.

“And that couch is all hard and lumpy,” yawns Bethany. And the two of them crawl in on either side of me and snuggle up until we’re a little cuddle puddle.

“Show me your angle?” whispers Trina, as her hand starts to wander around a little bit. But we all pass out before any real damage can be done.