The Empire Read online

  She took one last look around. It felt good to be back in the old theater. She had spent many happy hours during high school working there. It had been one of her favorite jobs. Who wouldn’t love free movies? She wasn’t keen on the giant candy counter with its gaudy bright displays, but she understood why Eddie made the changes he did. He was trying to keep the theater afloat and concessions are where the money is. But another factor is people. You had to get people in the door first to buy popcorn and soda. That was the crux of the problem. The multi-plex in Weskeag with it’s top of the line sound system, stadium seating and seven screens was very appealing. Eddie told her that according to rumors, they were planning on adding an IMAX screening room next summer. That might be the death blow for this old theater. She would hate to see it shuttered. Maybe converting the place to a restaurant could keep it as a key part of the community. They could showcase it’s history, with memorabilia and pictures, maybe even show classic movies or have live entertainment and rent it out for private events.

  She opened the door to leave, and heard voices. The projection room was dark, so she headed out into the hallway and listened. They were definitely coming from downstairs. When she got halfway down the stairs, she could see that there was no one in the lobby, but she still heard the voices. It sounded like several people. They had to be in the downstairs theater.

  When she opened the door she stopped in her tracks. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up as the panic rose. It was the scene from her dream! What the hell? It’s not possible! Fear gripped her. She stood there frozen in the doorway.

  “Who is this?” A woman from the panel on stage had noticed her, and motioned to a man beside her as she stared at Darcy. The movie screen had been raised, and a long table with chairs was set up facing the audience. The theater was dark, except for the lights above the stage.

  “I’m not sure.” The man replied.

  “I think she sees us.” The woman said in a lower voice, but Darcy still heard her.

  Of course I see you, Darcy thought. She had the urge to flee. Her mind was balking at the idea that this was the scene from her dreams. Her heart was pounding as she scrambled to come to a decision on what to do.

  The woman stood up. “You there! Hello.” It was the same woman from her dream! Darcy’s pulse was racing at a fight or flight pace. Everything felt a little topsy-turvy. “Hello?” The woman said once more as if she were doubting now that Darcy could hear her.

  “Hi,” Darcy said, and then heard an audible gasp. The theater lights came up to low. People in the audience were standing now and most had turned around and moved out into the aisle and into the area in front of the stage. Everyone was looking at her. She felt like running. “Sorry for the intrusion. Um... Eddie didn’t tell me there was a meeting scheduled in here today. I’ll get out of your way.”

  “Wait a moment!” The woman said in an authoritative tone, designed to make you obey. “Who are you and who is this Eddie you speak of?” Her severe features made her look intimidating. She had an angular face with high cheekbones. Her steel grey hair was pulled tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a long dark straight skirt, and matching box jacket with a white blouse and straight ruffle collar underneath. She reminded Darcy of an old-timey schoolmarm.

  She heard the man beside her say “Edwin Barrett, the third, I believe.”

  The woman nodded with recognition.

  “Yes, that’s right.” Darcy agreed.

  “Well, Eddie isn’t aware of our meeting.”

  “Oh.” Darcy shoved her rational brain in high gear and reasoned that maybe his grandfather still had some connections to the Empire.

  “Come closer. Let me get a good look at you.” The woman said.

  “I don’t want to hold you up, I’ll just be on my way.” She said as calmly as she could. Her breaths were shallow and coming fast. She felt herself starting to sweat as her heart continued to pump hard. She needed to get out of there.

  “Come closer!” The woman ordered. She was used to having people obey her requests.

  Darcy walked down the aisle about two thirds of the way. She wasn’t interested in getting too close.

  “Who are you?” the woman asked again.

  “I’m Darcy. Darcy Adams” She said trying not to sound nervous.

  “Ah...Adams…” The woman said knowingly. “Interesting.” She heard several similar comments from the crowd. They must know her dad, she gave herself as an excuse.

  A man came out of the audience crowd. It was the old guy from the cafe. “Hello Darcy Jane,” he said with a smile. She heard murmurs in the crowd when he said her name. So he knew her! She wished she could figure out who he was. When she saw his warm smile she walked down a few more steps, but still kept a comfortable distance away. Seeing a familiar face, she wasn’t as freaked out as before, but something wasn’t right. How could she be dreaming about these people?

  “Hi,” she said nodding to the man as she approached. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

  “What are you doing here?” He asked.

  “Oh Eddie let me take a look around.”

  Several in the audience started grumbling.

  “She was at the cafe!” She heard someone in the audience say.

  “You see! We were right!” said another.

  “...not going to stand for it!” which was met with many approvals. The crowd was beginning to get very restless.

  “Quiet, everyone!” said the woman on the stage. She turned her attention back to Darcy. “For what purpose?”

  “They’re not taking this theater!” said someone in the crowd.

  The woman’s stern demeanor made her a bit nervous. She had a laser like focus that made Darcy feel like she was now on trial for something. Something wasn’t right, she had to get out of there, so she lied. “I used to work here many years ago. I haven’t seen the place in years, so...”

  “I hope that’s all you’re doing Miss Adams, because you see, we have heard that there are those who would see the physical remnants of this town’s history, like this theater, eradicated.”

  “No, never! I love this theater.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.”

  “We would not be pleased if we found you were aiding in the destruction—”

  Was that a threat? Darcy interrupted the woman, who glared at her for such insolence. “Wait a minute, destruction? What are you talking about?”

  Her question caused quite a few animated discussions among the people on the stage and in the audience. The woman stared at her, as if measuring her.

  “Miss Adams, this town and it’s history are very important to us. You might say it is our lifeblood. We will not see it destroyed.”

  That’s a strange way of putting it, Darcy thought, but okay. Glancing at crowd, some appeared to be in period costumes, so maybe they were historical reenactors or something. “I think the welfare of Shoreton is important to all it’s residents. I don’t know of anyone that wants to destroy it. Are you part of the historical society or something?”

  “No, we are our own entity. We’ve been around for a very long time.”

  “Well, I’m sure you know more than I do, about what’s going on. I don’t live in Shoreton anymore.”

  “I see.” The woman stared at her in silence.

  The conversation had not made Darcy feel any calmer. She was still feeling very uncomfortable. “Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you were doing. Sorry for the interruption.” She said backing up the aisle. As she turned to hurry the rest of the way to the exit, the woman called out to her.

  “Miss Adams, one more thing.”

  Darcy stopped and turned around.

  “I may require something of you.”

  “Okay…” It wasn’t phrased as a question. Darcy wondered what would happen if she refused.

  “I shall be in touch.” And with that she turned her attention to the people on the stage, and the people in the audience settled bac
k into their places.

  As the door closed, Darcy heard a man say “call to order the meeting of the Founding Society.” She’d never heard of that group before. Maybe Ali had.

  CHAPTER Fifteen

  That was beyond strange, Darcy thought. What the hell is going on with me? Am I losing my mind? Everything felt like it was closing in on her. She was starting to feel like she was suffocating. She needed to get away. She rushed out of the front door of the theater and locked it. The daylight felt like salvation, at least momentarily. She took a deep breath calming down a bit. She still had the urge to flee, but nowhere to go. It was all starting to feel like a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. Nothing was normal. She still had a couple of hours to kill before it was time to meet Ali for lunch. It was barely eleven o’clock and she was exhausted. Her brain was on overload. If she could just quiet it down enough, maybe she could try and make sense of what was going on. So much had happened in the last few days. She couldn’t wrap her brain or her emotions around any of it. She felt overwhelmed and emotionally numb all at once. It felt like she was at the center of a whirlwind, with things flying at her from every direction and no time to duck.

  Alcohol. Normally that wouldn’t be her first thought but given everything else it sounded like a reasonable solution. She was giving her liver quite a workout on this trip. Desperate times require desperate measures, her inner voice rationalized. She looked up and down Main St. for where she could get a drink and not be judged because of the hour. A random thought hit her. She’d never been there before, but right now it sounded like the perfect place. She headed towards Fairmont St. and to one of the oldest consecutively open establishments in Shoreton, Whistlin’ Pete’s. Back in the day of large sailing cargo ships, Fairmont St. was one of the main thoroughfares to the docks. Sea weary sailors wouldn’t have to stumble far to find a bed, bath, bar and some company. A lot had changed since then. A huge fire in the 1920’s wiped out the docks and several buildings and warehouses. Two of the only wooden buildings in that area to survive and remain standing today were Pete’s and Madame Lowe’s Mystical House of Secrets, commonly known to the locals as, The Eye. The rest of the buildings lining the street were rebuilt in brick after the fire.

  Over the years, Fairmont had gone through many phases from being sailor centric, to mostly commercial businesses, and in recent years had joined the ranks of being tourist friendly. There were among other things, an antique shop, wine and cheese shop, vintage book shop, a barber shop, pawn shop, a couple small art galleries and a pub. The waterfront area now had a marina, boatyard and boat repair and supply shop.

  Whistlin’ Pete’s was set in from the sidewalk on the corner of Fairmont and Cannery St. Walking from the marina, it would be one of the first non-boating businesses seen. It was a three-story cedar shingled pitched roof building with sailor blue trim. Darcy could imagine that back in the early days it had more of an old time saloon-hotel look with covered porches on all three levels. She could envision sailors and ladies of the night hanging out on the porches, while the rowdy, boisterous sounds of laughter, singing and a barroom piano emanated from the open doors. The upper level porches were long gone, but there was still a wraparound porch on the first level. The building looked quiet. Parking was patron friendly and discreetly located around the corner in back. As she walked up the three stairs to the porch, she noticed that all the windows on the first floor were shuttered from the inside. There was no way to see in without opening the door. She paused remembering the reputation it had when she was growing up. Was this a place she should even be going into? I’m a grown ass woman, her inner voice declared. How bad could it be?

  The light from the open door gave her a moment to see that there were at least a few people in there. Kinda sad that there were already people in a bar drinking at a little past eleven on a Monday morning, she thought. No judging; she was about to do the same thing, she pointed out to herself, as she stood just inside the door. The place had the smell of stale cigarettes, and oddly enough, fresh hay. As her eyes adjusted to the low lighting, it didn’t surprise her that there were ancient smells. The place looked like it hadn’t been touched since maybe 1972. The U-shaped bar was centered along the back wall that had a pass-thru window opening to a kitchen area. Bucket style swivel bar stools surrounding the bar were bolted down, the red naugahyde seats and backs cracked. There were a few booths and tables in the front of the bar. To the left were two pool tables, and to the right a dartboard, jukebox, and hall to the restrooms. There a couple of guys playing pool, and a couple old timers sitting at the bar on the pool table side. On the other side, a lone woman sat on the very last stool closest to the hallway. Darcy decided to sit on the front corner stool, which gave her a good view of everyone in the bar.

  The bartender, a dark haired, burly guy in a faded blue t-shirt set a napkin down. “What can I get you?”

  She wondered if they served Bloody Mary’s? Keep it simple, she told herself. “Jack and Coke, please.”

  “You got it.”

  It was peaceful in there. There was no idle chit chat going on, just anonymous drinking.

  The only sounds were pool balls being knocked around and the barely audible chatter of some sports commentator on the TV mounted behind the bar, above the pass-thru. She felt like she was starting to unwind a bit. The dark and quiet helped. She had been on sensory overload for the last few days, and needed to decompress. She glanced at the woman across from her. What is with all these people in vintage clothes? The woman was dressed like she was from the 1920’s or 30’s. She wore a thin pale blue button down sweater over a plain gray dress. Her dark hair was cut in a bob and topped with a gray hat. She looked lost in thought as she stared down at the drink between her white gloved hands. Darcy would have to ask Ali about that.

  The bartender set a rocks glass in front of her. Before he could walk away she had finished it. “Could I get another, please?”

  “You got it.” She watched as he mixed the fresh drink, and placed it in front of her. He stood there a moment to see if he was going to have to repeat the process.

  She took a sip and set it down. “Thank you.”

  The bourbon was doing its job. She felt the tension in her shoulders and back beginning to relax. She tried to focus her mind on the here and now. Looking around the bar, she could see that they had made a rough attempt to attract tourists. Pinned up on the wall beside the dartboard, among liquor and beer promotional signs were Whistlin’ Pete t-shirts and sweatshirts. She grabbed her drink and wandered over to get a closer look. The woman in vintage clothes glanced at her when she lifted her glass for a drink. Before Darcy could react, she looked down again, clearly not wanting to interact. Darcy sensed a story there, but left her alone. She perused the signs and memorabilia on the walls. Scattered among advertisements for karaoke night, bands coming to perform and open mic night were photographs of celebrating patrons going back at least sixty years. Decades of good times had. The shirts were clever. On the front, in the corner pocket area was a picture of an old fashion mustachioed man wearing a bowler hat standing behind a bar with a billy club in his hand that read: ‘Whistlin’ Pete’s Tavern Established 1765. On the back, below a silhouette of the building and tavern sign, it read: ‘Not Just for Sailors and Strumpets Anymore. Proudly serving Shoreton’s Finest Spirits and Entertainment’.

  Darcy checked out the vintage jukebox. The most recent songs were most likely added sometime in the early nineties. She glanced through the titles and saw some names that brought back memories: Bob Seger, Van Halen, Billy Joel, Aerosmith, Guns N’ Roses, AC/DC… She thought about playing a few golden oldies, but she wasn’t sure how the rest of the bar would feel about that. The quiet was nice. She headed back to her bar stool and noticed the woman was gone.

  “How are we doin’?” The bartender asked.

  “I’m good, thanks.” She lifted her glass which was still half full. “Hey, do you know what the deal is with all these people in vintage clothing?”r />
  “Whattaya mean?” He looked confused.

  “Like that woman that was sitting over there awhile ago. Is there some sort of event going on or something?”

  “Holy shit!” The man looked stunned as he stared at her. “Holy shit!” He said again laughing. “I don’t believe it!” He now had the attention of everyone in the bar.

  “Why is my question so astounding?” Darcy asked, clearly not understanding why he was so excited. He turned to the other patrons and said, “Hey, she just seen Rosie!”

  “What?!” Said one of the young guys playing pool, as he came around the bar, his buddy in tow. “No fuckin’ way!” They looked like fisherman who’d just come in off a boat that morning.

  “She did! I can’t fuckin’ believe it! Tell ‘em,” the bartender prodded. Now the two old timers had moseyed over and they were all standing around her.

  “What’d she look like?” The other young fisherman asked.

  “What do you mean, what did she look like, she was sitting right there!” Darcy said pointing to the empty stool.