170 - Every Line Tells A Story

"Can we please sit and take a break?" Ari pleaded with her friend.

 

"It's only our second store. You're getting slow in your old age." Cara pulled her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. 

 

"Excuse me, here." Ari held out her arm. "I am carrying extra baggage. Besides, I'm hungry."

 

"Of course you are. Eight months pregnant and you still look great. Me, I gain twenty just thinking about food."

 

"You're joking. Right? I look like Fat Albert."

 

"Fine. Fine. Whatever. What is my little niece craving today?"

 

"Grease! Pub food. The smell of whisky and bar nuts."

 

"Your nuts alright." Cara mumbled.

 

Cliff waved them into the waiting car. "Right this way, ladies. I know just the place."  

 

Over the past two days, this has been the norm for them. After breakfast in the suite, they were off to the spa and/or the gym for a little R-n-R before heading out for a day of shopping. The rib-tickler bickering between them was an added bonus of entertainment for him. He didn't think there were any stores left for them to visit, but they kept surprising him. One good thing, Mrs. Rockstar and her sidekick weren't your typical Harrods shoppers. Nope. They preferred the offbeat boutiques. Vintage was how the Mrs. described them. Which meant fewer crowds and even less of a chance of them being recognized. One thing he knew for sure, if the boss man didn’t get back soon, he was going to have to charter another plane for all her purchases. 

 

Thirty minutes later, the car rolled down a cobblestone street, stopping in front of a small hole in the wall brick building.  

 

“We’re here.” Cliff stated as he opened his door and stepped out onto the curb.

 

“How did you find this place?” Cara asked.

 

“Pub crawling.” He said, winking down at her.

 

“Cool.” Ari said, looking up at the balcony.

 

“Wait till you see her inside.” 

 

Opening the door, Cliff watched as her eyes grew wide. It was beautiful. They built real masts into the structure as Union Jack hung from the ceiling. But what really caught her eye was the bar. The history and massive character left her speechless. The bar top was made of pewter, while the bottom was dotted with old barrels and ship wheels. And the floor, actual stone.

 

“Cliff, this place is gorgeous.”

 

“Sure is.”

 

“You’re joining us. I want to hear all about how you found this place.”

 

“Now, Ma’am….”

 

“Cliff, what have I told you about that? Ariana, please. Better yet, my friends call me Ari.”

 

“Ariana.” he said with such professionalism. “My job is to secure, not eat.”

 

“I’m not taking no for an answer. So, either we all go in or we can leave.” Ariana batted her big green eyes at him.

 

“Listen here Cliff," Cara interjected, "she’s stubborner than an ole mule and I’m hungry. So, you might as well just join us.”

 

Shaking his head, he ushered them inside and to a table. Growing up in a neighborhood bar like this, she’d always had a fascination for them. So, wherever the road took her, she made it a point to visit as many as she could. When a young man in his late twenties approached the table to take their order, Ariana inquired about it. History has it the Prospect of Whitby had stood in this very spot during the rule of twenty-two monarchs. Very impressive, as is their past cliental. Charles Dickens had visited, as had actor Richard Burton and Princess Margaret. The one that made both Ariana and Cara snicker the most — the noteworthy pirate Captain Kidd.

 

“What's with the noose?” Cara asked. The young man explained it was to pay homage to the late George Jeffreys. He was known as the hanging judge who would visit the pub after a long day of executions.

 

When he had satisfied all of her question, he left them to place their order. That is when Ariana turned her questioning towards Cliff and for the next two hours they enjoyed listening to him tell his tale of how he stumbled across this pub, as well as many others.  

 

He told them how when he was in his early twenties with no idea what he wanted out of life, he bought himself a backpack, called up a few friends and they headed to Europe for a pub crawl, biker style. They spent the next year and a half traveling throughout Europe on the back of their Harleys, finding pubs just like this one, and attended rock-n-roll concerts when the opportunity allowed.  

 

It was the best thing in life he could have done, he explained. When his trip ended and he could finally think clearly, he realized that life behind a desk, wearing a shirt and tie for the rest of his life, wasn’t for him. He loved waking up somewhere different every night. Seeing the world and learning everything he could about where he was. Having made a few friends along the way, he headed home to pack up just what he needed, made a few phone calls and found himself a job handling security. At first, his clientele were wealthy business executives who traveled, and when that became boring, he ventured out to the sports world; baseball, football players, mostly. Eventually ended up in the music business and here with her. 

 

"And there you have it." he placed his elbows on the table.

 

"Is there a Mrs. Cliff?" Ariana asked.

 

"No."

 

"Brothers. Sisters?"

 

"One sister, but I don't see her much."

 

"No other family?"

 

“Nope.” his lips made a popping sound.

 

"Sorta lonely, isn't it?" she questioned.

 

"Ari." Cara exclaimed. 

 

"It okay." he waved of Cara’s shock at her friend’s boldness. "The people I've worked for have become my family."

 

"What ab...."   

 

He raised a hand and cut Ariana off. "My turn. I always make it a point to know who it is I'm working for. Your husband, well, that's easy. Tell me something about you."

 

“Like what?”

 

“Family?”

 

“Only child. Parents are deceased. Besides Cara and Jon’s family, I have one other person who is like a brother to me. His name is Max. He’s back in Canada running my family’s bar.”

 

“So, you’re Canadian?”

 

“Half. My mom was.”

 

“Whereabouts?”

 

“Montreal, but I was actually born in Half-Moon Bay, California.”

 

“Cut the bull.” Cara jibbed her. “You have more family than that. A very large extended family, for that matter.”

 

From the look on Cliff’s face, he was a bit confused, and rightfully so. Of course, they were her father’s crew and the people she’d worked with, but she didn’t want to bore him with her life’s story. Sighing, she stuck a french fry in her mouth, folded her arms on the table in front of her and looked him straight in the eyes.  

 

“Here’s the cliff notes version. Sorry,” she shrugged. “No pun intended. My dad was a roadie. My mom died when I was born, so that left him to raise me. I got to travel the world with him and his crew. That was when I wasn’t being raised by my maternal grandparents. Hence, the bar in Canada.”

 

“A roadie. That explains dinner the other night.”

 

“Oh, you mean Mick. Yeah. I did a few tours with them.”

 

“Alrighty, then. Now that we have all that out of the way, are you ladies ready to head back to the hotel?”

 

Looking at each other, they turned back at him, shaking their heads no. This day was far from over. They had places to go and shopping to do still. It was London, after all. The West End had some of the best vintage shops Ariana had ever been to. Excusing herself, Ariana headed towards the back of the bar to use the restroom before they headed out. Ever the professional, Cliff followed her. He may have just had a casual lunch with her, but he was still on duty, and before allowing her to go inside, he tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open. Making sure the coast was clear, he stepped aside to let her in. Done taking care of business, they headed to the car where Cara was already waiting for them.

 

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

 

As the plane began its descent, the skyline came into view. It had been a long two days for him. Back-to-back shows seem to take the toll on him more now. Not just his voice, his body as well. Face it, he wasn’t getting any younger. Plus, he missed his wife. He’d grown accustomed to her reckless sleeping and after being away from her for few weeks and having her back, only to leave her again, well, he didn’t like it. Sighing, he brushed back the mane of his furry little friend, who was looking out the window with him.  

 

“I know buddy, I miss her too. We’re almost home.”

 

Not wanting her to worry and not wanting Cliff to quit on the first day, Jon decided it would be a good thing if Meatball accompanied them for the two days they were gone. So what if he had to put up with the wisecracks from the guys and Matt that he was turning into a softy for the mutt.  Bottom line, he was doing it for her.

 

“Aww. Look at you two. Aren’t you a cute pair?” Matt plopped into the seat across from his brother.

 

“Asshole. Need something?”

 

“Yeah. There’s been a change of plans. When we land, Jeanie and the guys… oh, and Muttball over here, will head back to the hotel. You and me, we have a minor detour to make.”

 

“I'm not in the mood for one of your games, Matt. It's been a long two days and I’m tired. I just want my bed and my wife.”

 

“And you think I’m not. Contrary to what you may think, while you're up on stage shaking your ass for two hours, I am actually busting mine.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Jon glanced out the window once again. “Care to tell me where we are going at this hour?”

 

“Oh and ruin the surprise. Where’s the fun in that?”