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Part 3
By Way of Introduction
At the bar, I was first introduced to the proprietor, Liz, who welcomed me aboard and then asked how I found out about the place. That question threw me more than anyone could know. I still was uncertain how I arrived there. I only remembered driving and driving down familiar expressways...and literally stumbling onto the place. No funny turns; no unknown street names; no fog bound tunnels, which were portals to some alternate universe; Scotty didn't beam me anywhere.... I was just - - *there*. Deep down, I wondered if I could find my way back to this place once I left. Would it be like Shangri-La in 'Lost Horizon' or Brigadoon - once you left, you could never return? Come to think of it, when the time came to go home, would I be able to find home? But my uncertain answer didn't seem to faze Liz. In fact, she behaved as though she had heard this story numerous times before.
"Don't worry," she told me, a sparkle in her eyes. "You'll get home. Trust me. We've never had a problem before. And when the time comes for you to visit us again... Well, I know it doesn't make sense right now, but you'll be surprised how easy it'll be to return."
"But I don't even remember-"
"Trust your feelings, Tina. You'll get home. You'll get back here. Won't she, Bud?"
"She's too connected to us now not to come back," he answered, smiling.
I opened my mouth to contradict them, and then I stopped. For some reason, although I barely knew these people - and I have a tendency to be suspicious - I believed them. In my heart, I knew I had found another home, one that would mean as much to me as my beloved England.
"Has she met anyone besides Sid, I hope?" Liz asked.
"Just Wigand. He made it a point to introduce himself." I could still hear the uncertainty about the man in his voice.
"We're both from Louisville," I added.
"I was just getting ready to take her around - let her meet some of the others. Thought we'd start here." He raised his voice to get the attention of the two men standing nearest us. "Evenin' guys."
"Howdy Bud." "How's it going, Bud?"
"Just wanted to introduce you to our latest newcomer. Tina... this is Zack Grant." I was now looking into the face of a bearded young man wearing a simple, dark blue suit.
"Tina, good to meet you."
I shook my head apologetically, a questioning expression obviously quite clear. "Nice to meet you, Zack. Sorry but -"
"'No Way Back'," he explained.
"Nope - missed that one," I admitted.
Bud explained: "Zack's with the FBI. Tina here works for the Crime Scene Unit with the Louisville, Kentucky Police."
"Hey, that's great," this Zack said, shaking my hand. "We've got quite a few law enforcement personnel here. Cort's a sheriff." He nodded at the individual beside him, one with a sweet baby face, long chestnut colored hair, and vivid blue eyes. "Do you know Cort?"
I knew one thing - I was staring into his face, my confusion back again. Something about him was familiar, besides the Russell Crowe resemblance. "I... think... I'm sorry... Cort, was it? I'm Tina."
"Tina, nice to know you. Welcome to Crowe's Tavern... Not ringing any bells, huh?" I slowly shook my head as he chuckled. " How about 'The Quick and the Dead'."
"You were in 'The Quick and the Dead'?!" I almost screamed, then I calmed. "Sorry, but 'The Quick and the Dead'? I saw that but... I... don't..." I snapped my fingers. "Fast hands...and you spent most of the movie in chains. You're the preacher."
Cort laughed, throwing back his head. "Yep, that's me."
"Honestly though, I only saw *some* of the movie. It's always on TNT or TBS, but I never get to see the whole thing. Actually - - I sort of got bored. I can't even remember making it to the end."
He laughed harder. "Yeah, I've heard that before."
"Nothing against you, Cort."
"Hey, it's okay Tina; no insult taken."
"It's just that I saw it - - well, part of it anyway... right after 'Titanic' was released, so they were really pushing the fact that Leonardo DiCaprio was in it."
Cort piped up. "Conveniently forgetting that RC had just done 'L.A. Confidential'." He nodded his glass in Bud's direction, saluting him. There were those magic initials again.
"Yes... I guess they did... Sorry it's the only way I remembered you. Fast hands and chains - - that's embarrassing."
"No problem, I'm used to it. I don't take it personally. The movie had problems; wasn't much I could do but sit back in my chains and enjoy the ride." He laughed, as did we, and flashed one of those dazzling smiles at me, the one that could make one melt. Sid had given me the same look, but it had left me cold... and feeling like I was being analyzed under a microscope.
Zack spoke up again. "So you just got here, Tina?"
"A little while ago, yes." I looked up at my companion. "Bud's been showing me a great time, but he thought it was time I met some of the rest of you."
"Thanks for being so generous, Bud," Cort teased him, winking. The cop just grinned, and I laughed, finding a spot on a barstool.
To say that the whole experience was extraordinary would be an understatement. Here I was, eventually surrounded on nearly all sides by men who were so individual and yet vaguely familiar. I couldn't explain why this still confused me, considering I had - in the past - visited places similar to Crowe's Tavern. There had been the Keaton Cluster, for actor Michael Keaton, which had quite an odd assortment of characters, and kept me interested most of the time. I had, however, spent the bulk of my years, even to a few months ago, at Ford's Place, which featured the characters of Harrison Ford. Unfortunately, everyone there was starting to feel more and more alike. I never had that feeling in this place.
Within a few minutes others had arrived: a World War II era pilot named Lachlan; one called Colin; an Andy; an Alex (who was wearing the most charming Indiana Jones-type fedora); a second Jeff. I was starting to have trouble keeping them straight - and with the exception of Bud and Cort - I didn't have a clue to which any of them were. That didn't seem to bother them though, as they gathered around for introductions. They were happy to see a new face in the mix. "Keeps things lively," Jeff #2 told me as he enthusiastically shook hands.
It was starting to feel busier now, and since I was still uncertain about when I would be leaving for home, I was temporarily foregoing alcohol in favor of something less potent. The music was also getting livelier; alternating between the sound system and a jukebox, with a large selection of hit songs from the Eighties, Nineties, and up through today, a fact which was not missed on most of the group. They all liked dancing - and boy, did a few of them enjoy singing.
"Musically inclined, huh?" I asked Bud as three of the guys, beers in hand, belted out the first bars to something one had excitedly announced as "Oh man...it's 'What's Her Name'!" Liz and the others applauded, all of them obviously familiar with the song.
"Don't recognize the tune?"
I shook my head. "Should I?"
Bud took a sip of the *Maker's Mark* he had been nursing. "That's T.O.F.O.G., better known as Thirty Odd Foot of Grunts."
"Thirty Odd - - what?"
The cop smiled. "Don't recognize the lead singer?"
I listened for a moment, unsure where all this was going - - and then it hit me. "You don't mean that's - -"
He nodded. "RC's the lead singer, the lead guitarist *and* one of the lyricist. Can't say I care for all the songs; not really up my alley, but hey, he's versatile, ain't he?"
I smiled, surprised at the news. Multi-faceted actor *and* rock singer?
When that one ended, the music went to songs I recognized, although I promised I would learn more about T.O.F.O.G. By now, I was feeling a little less shy with so many people around me. When a foursome launched into Santana's 'Smooth' and Colin encouraged me to join in, I actually heard myself sing along. I saw Bud's eyebrows raise as he learned something new about me, and he leaned close to whisper in my ear, "Hidden talent?"
"Three years of regular chorus; two years of gospel chorus," I softly replied, "and hours of listening to music."
"You're good," he whispered back, squeezing my left hand. I nodded my thanks and returned to the song.
Santana was followed by Destiny's Child and 'Say My Name', then 'N Sync's 'Bye Bye Bye', which was another most of us seemed to know because at worst, we could at least do the "Bye, bye, bye" part. By the time the Backstreet Boys and 'I Want It That Way' started, I was nearly sung out but having a great time, and was anxiously fixing my iced tea with more lemon and sweetener. I was concentrating so hard on counting my little blue packets, I nearly missed Liz say, "I was wondering if he would show up tonight."
"Six," I muttered, ripping open another 'Equal' and methodically stirring in the contents. I didn't notice that all eyes had focused toward another part of the room, and the singing had stopped. Only when I was taking a sip, did I realize that everyone's attention had shifted. "Bud... what's up? Sid at it again?"
He shook his head. "No... Like Liz said, we didn't know if he'd show up tonight or not. He's been taking it slowly in bits and pieces -- his arrival, I mean."
"Show up? Bits and pieces? Who?" I scooted around so I could look in the direction that had the group so fascinated, but couldn't see a thing for the crowd. Stretching my neck didn't help either, and I was suddenly surrounded by voices discussing -- whatever.
"Nah... he's not being snooty," I heard Cort say to someone. "He's still feeling his way around cause he's still unsure; the sheriff's just helping him make the adjustment..."
"Well *he's* only been here since early May," another voice added. On top of that came: "They're a lot alike. That's probably why they hang with each other quite a bit." And: "J.B.'s just making the assimilation easier for him. You know how hard it was for all of *us*."
All right, I'd had enough. The curiosity was gnawing at my stomach like a cheese grater. I positioned myself on the stool by standing on the supports, then got my balance after grabbing the back of it. I felt Bud's hand reach out to help steady me. Those extra few inches helped, especially when one is only 5'2" in height, and I could actually see over tops of heads. For a second I squinted, trying to decipher what in the world... Okay, now... There we go. That far booth was what had everyone fascinated, the whispers only increasing with each passing moment. I could just make out two male figures sitting opposite one another...
The world came to a stop. I shut my eyes for a second, maybe two, and literally felt my heart skip a beat. When I open them again, I thought, it'll all be a dream... It's not enough that this whole place feels like a dream anyway... That just can't be... My eyes opened, but the men were still there, seemingly oblivious to all the attention they had earned. All I could do was flop back onto the stool, toss back a half glass of tea, and hope I didn't hyperventilate.
"Tina... you okay?" I heard Bud ask, his voice sounding as if it was miles away. I managed to nod, then finally closed my gaping mouth. "Would you like to meet them?"
"What?" I managed my voice barely above a murmur. By now, all had returned to normal, and the impromptu gang returned to accompanying Macy Gray's first hit song.
Bud leaned down so we were on an even level. "I asked if you'd like to meet them?" I must have been wearing the stupidest, most confused look ever - - and I wasn't sure what answer it gave. "They *are* the reason you're here."
"What?" I repeated. I've never been so at a lost for words in my life.
"They're the ones who brought you here. Nobody else did -- not even me. I figured you'd like me to introduce all of you. I'm sure they'd be happy to meet you."
Why was I clutching that glass in both hands, my trembling causing the ice to clink the sides? Sitting it on the counter harder than I intended, I ran a hand through my hair as I nodded, still not sure this made sense. *They* were the ones who brought me there? What the hell did that mean?
"Don't worry, Tina," Liz told me, smiling. "Neither of them bite. Bud's right - they would be thrilled to meet you... Oh and Bud, see if either of them would like something to eat or drink. The other night they didn't want to bother anybody; I caught John fixing their sandwiches and drinks. I know neither of them wants to impose if they can do something for themselves, but tell them they shouldn't feel that way. We're all family here." She looked in my direction again, and grinned, as if to say I must start to feel the same.
"I'll ask them, honey." He looked at me -- I was still staring *their* way. "You ready?"
"Huh?... Uh - yeah, sure." I grabbed my shoulder bag. "Sure... Liz,... catch you later."
"I'll be here. Oh, and maybe some of the other girls will have gotten here, too. I'd love for you to meet Peaches and Michelle at least."
My hand was trembling so violently when White took it, I thought it would vibrate through him as well. I would never be able to walk those fifty feet to the table, I considered, although Bud was quite effectively guiding me along with no problems. It may have had a good deal to do with the fact that it was like escorting an eager child on a shopping trip for a new toy. I might have been a nervous wreck and frightened I would wet myself, but I was offering no resistance. We covered the distance much quicker than I thought we would.
But I'm not ready, I told myself as my emotional and logical sides collided. I'm not ready for this. Can't it wait? But why do I want to...? I might as well get it over with... My God... that made it sound like a chore. This isn't a chore. I want this. If someone had told me yesterday that this would happen, I'd be jumping for joy. And why am I scared? I've spent almost my whole evening with Bud. This isn't any different... Oh yes it is... I... Even my brain went on a lockdown as we drew nearer, and the soft light enveloping the booth seemed to grow sharper. Mentally I had shut out the whole world, which likely explained why the conversation between the two soft-spoken voices was almost clear enough to understand.
"Evening guys." Bud's voice returned me to a partial reality, although I still was not completely coherent.
"Hello Bud." "Good evening, Bud." I heard the voices politely greet him almost simultaneously. My hands were shaking as forcefully as the knot pushing on my stomach lining, and a lump rose into my throat.
Bud took my shoulders and turned me to my left, obviously realizing I needed some incentive. "John...this is Et - tea - in... Etienne Stewart... We also call her Tina."
I saw a figure stand and push some strands of dark brown hair back from his face as he extended a hand. "Hello Etienne Stewart - - we also call her Tina," came a most unusual accent. I was unsure if it was a combining of Canadian and some northwest American dialect, or some Provincial accent. But I knew one thing: it was deep, soothing, quiet, collected. I finally looked fully at him, noting those soft blue-green eyes and that wonderful smile you could hear in his voice. I felt part of my body contract in response, hoping the rush wasn't obvious on my features. "I'm John Biebe."
My hand reached for his without thinking, and it was as if the fog had partially lifted. "Sheriff of Mystery, Alaska. Yes, I know. It's nice to finally meet you."
"Same here, nice to meet you. So Bud's been showing you around, eh?" That was when I realized we were still holding hands, as though drawing from each other's warmth, and in a manner quite unlike when Wigand continued to shake mine.
"Bud's been very nice to me tonight," I replied, noticing a slight quaking in my voice. "Even saved me from Sid right after I arrived."
"You should have seen her, John. She knew him from the very start and it barely bothered her. The two of 'em were in a Mexican standoff when I got there." Biebe chuckled, as did I. "Hey, wait 'til you hear what she does for a living. Crime scenes." One of John's eyebrows raised. "She works crime scenes: photos, fingerprints, evidence collection, the whole deal."
"I'll *have* to hear more about that, Tina... Uh - sorry," he apologized, withdrawing his hand. He noticed, however, that I smiled a little sadly at losing that strong grip within my fingers. "So... this your first night with us then?" I nodded as our eyes searched one another. "I wondered. See I wasn't in here the last couple of nights. Thought I'd missed you before now."
"No... first time," I managed; wishing our hand contact could have remained as it had.
It was pleasantly cool outside, and the air conditioner was full blast in the tavern, which probably explained why he had layered a white knit sweater over a black turtleneck. That was quite in character for someone from Alaska who was used to protecting themselves from the cold. It was his physical appearance, however, which attracted me. He was so unlike any law enforcement officer I had met in my career. The length of that long, incredibly sexy hair; the slight beard framing his strong chin and well-formed mouth...He would never get away with that informality of appearance at the LPD, but he wasn't on *my* police department. This look suited him.
I also had to stop myself from paying too close attention to the enhancing fit of his jeans. Thanks to 'Virtuosity', I had an excellent idea of some of his build. As with the others, though, there was a slight contrast: John Biebe was a bit on the chubby side. He was nowhere near as overweight as Jeffrey Wigand, who had led a more sedate life. And there was no revolting beer belly or spare tire. John was quite active, due to those weekly hockey games and his other duties; one could see his strength, but the chubbiness on him - - on him, it was...I swallowed. I found this Russell Crowe incarnation very sexy and quite handsome in his own unique way. For a moment I conjured up the locker room scene in 'Mystery, Alaska', when he was using an icepack on his aching elbow. His arms were so beefy and powerful looking, I had remembered thinking that those were the type of arms a woman could imagine being held in, and kept safe and warm. I could only imagine what the rest of him might be like, and those were the kind of thoughts that might get me in trouble.
"Well, welcome to Crowe's Tavern then, Tina," I heard him add before he returned to his seat, his eyes never leaving mine. Bud took hold my shoulders again, maneuvering me to my right. I had barely survived meeting John Biebe, let alone prepared for the next introduction. As if on cue, my eyes dropped to the tabletop, unable to look up.
"And Tina,... this is *our* own most recent arrival... Max, Etienne Stewart... Tina, meet General Maximus Decimas Meridias, general of the Armies of the North, commander of the Felix Cavalry Regiment, and the greatest commander ancient Rome ever produced. Did I get all that right, Max, or did I screw something up?"
A soft chuckle caused my eyes to close in pure ecstasy as I felt it wash over me. "Everything was all right, except perhaps 'the greatest commander' part," a warm voice gently replied, and again, parts of my being tightly constricted as if being made love to, the timbre and pitch caressing each hair on my body. How could *anyone* possess such incredible vocal capabilities?
"He's just being modest," Bud said as though confiding in me, although he intended all those present to hear. "This guy's amazing, Tina, but hey, you've seen the movie - - you know that already, don't you?"
I could only nod; my eyes still down. All I saw at this point was the lower half of a second century Roman general's uniform, sans the heavy armor, fitted about a slender, flat waist and revealing a pair of strong, well turned legs which were duly complimented by tall leather boots. My eyes though, were still frozen in position, my stomach churning.
"Miss Stewart?" There was that melodious voice again, penetrating my nerves and my peculiar shyness. A hand suddenly and tenderly took my right one. "You needn't be afraid... We're all friends here."
I heard myself sigh. My eyes shut for a moment as I gathered my strength. Then they slowly lifted until I was gazing into a face which - after four viewings and hours of surfing the Web - had become vividly familiar to me, awake and sleeping. When I gulped, I wondered if anyone heard me. Here we go again, I thought. Same height, same approximate build - - and the same brilliant eyes as almost all who had come before. But again, there was a difference: although his eyes burned with the same intensity and passion as John Biebe's, this face was leaner and more tan, but no less handsome... Just *please* God, don't let him smile, not yet anyway. If he does, I'll either dissolve into a puddle - - or I'll leave one where I stand.
I looked deeper into those eyes, and it hit me with the intensity of a sledgehammer. I recalled the very second when I had fallen in love with this man, when he became so real for me, I lived each moment of that movie as though I was up on that screen with him. It had been such a tiny thing: he was watching a robin right before the final battle in Germania.
In a matter of seconds, I had felt a hundred sensations. I was back in England on a cool, cloudy Sunday, and the rain had finally let up. This was Hertfordshire, just north of London, area that - in some spots - had seen few changes in five hundred years. I was walking the gardens of Hatfield
House, the childhood home of one of my idols, Elizabeth I. I had walked the footpaths to the spot where her oak tree once stood, the spot where she had been informed of her accession to the throne at the age of twenty-five. I had strolled to the new palace by what forest route I'd imagined she might have taken...I had dreamt of Hatfield most of my life, and here in gardens just revealing their spring growth, I was in Heaven.
Walking outdoors for over an hour, still discovering little nooks and crannies, using a second and third roll of film, I imagined Elizabeth making her way among the yew trees and the herb gardens.... The little bird came out of no where. It perched in a bush directly in front of me, and for almost a minute, sang for me alone, its' tiny eyes intently watching me. I have its' photograph in one of my albums. When it was done, I watched it take flight into the overcast sky, and I felt more in love with this place than before. It was as if I had always belonged there, and the bird was welcoming me home....
I remembered my bird as I sat in that darkened theater, beginning the experience of a movie which, frame by frame, was capturing my soul in a way I had not known since 'Titanic'. I had been in a pleasant English country garden, the home I'd always wanted. He was in a cold, barren, war-ravaged Germania, dreaming of his beloved Trujillo in Spain. A bird had triggered something in both of us, and I understood this man completely.
He raised my hand to his lips and very gently kissed the back of it, an action that only left me paralyzed. As if far off, I heard him ask Bud, "Is she always this timid?"
"She wasn't with me. In fact, she's very talkative,... aren't you, Tina? We had a great time. Hell... you just do something to them, Max...."
Oh God... I needed to say something. They were looking at me, waiting for a response, and my only action was to gawk. Okay... what do I do? Do I drop to my knees, genuflect, or kiss his ring? Do I faint for the first time in my life? Do I stand here and stare like a freaking idiot? Do I break into hysterics and weep uncontrollably? Do I open my mouth and babble like some love struck teenybopper - - right before throwing my arms around his neck and knocking him to the floor?
That was when I heard myself whisper a two-word line from a recent movie: "Just... breathe."
"Excuse me?" he asked, not knowing what I meant.
I repeated to myself, "Just... breathe" - - and suddenly, I exhaled. The world was normal again, and when I spoke, it was in the same clear, calm voice that had defied Sid 6.7 and engrossed Bud White. Our hands were still clasped so I shook his heartily, smiling with utter delight. "General... you don't know what an honor it is to finally meet you!"
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