Joe’s Place

Buffy went into the first bar she came across. The place was nearly empty, which didn’t surprise her—it was Christmas Eve, after all. There were only about a dozen people in the place, and that counted the guy up on the stage: playing guitar and singing.

She took another look at the patrons. She was getting a bit of a vibe off a few of them, not quite like a demon, but not quite normal either. “Great,” she told herself. “I spend a week searching this city for any sign of the supernatural, and come up empty, and now I go into a bar because I’m stuck an extra night in this town, and it’s full of…something.”

Whatever they were, they looked like people. The three guys sitting around one of the tables had glanced toward her as she’d entered, and other than the sort of checking out she was used to getting from guys, they didn’t really react to her. They turned their attention back to the guy on the stage, but the youngest of them, a guy who looked to be about her age, with strawberry blond hair, kept shooting looks her way. She wasn’t getting any sort of ‘evil’ vibe from them, so she decided to ignore them.

Buffy moved over to the bar. She leaned her guitar case beside the stool she had picked out for herself. She looked for the bartender, but she didn’t see anyone. She looked around for someone who might be a waiter or waitress, but there was no one. She figured she must have arrived while whoever was on duty was in the can, or something, and sat down to wait. She turned her attention back to the guy on the stage. He looked to be a bit older then Giles, with a salt and pepper beard, and dark hair, also streaked with grey. He was softly strumming his guitar, and singing a blues song that she wasn’t familiar with, but she thought he was pretty good. It made the wait for the bartender to show up worth it.

The guy finished his song, and set aside his guitar. He got slowly to his feet, and grabbed a couple of canes. Buffy realized that he was missing his lower legs as he hobbled toward her.

“So, what can I get you?” he asked as he went around the bar.

“I’ll have a beer,” said Buffy. He started to draw a glass of draught for her. “So, the management makes you do double duty, as bartender, and entertainment?” she asked.

He nodded toward the neon sign on the wall that read “Joe’s Place” as he handed her the glass. “I’m Joe. I am the management. I gave everyone else the night off.”

Buffy started to reach for her wallet, to pay for her drink, but he waved her off. “The first one’s free, tonight. So what’s a pretty girl like you doing alone in a bar, on Christmas Eve? You looking for a gig?”

“A gig?” asked Buffy.

“Your guitar,” he said. “If you want to play a set, it’s fine by me. If you’re any good, the rest of the beers will be free too.”

“Oh no!” said Buffy quickly. “I don’t play! The guitar, uh, belongs to a friend.” She wondered what sort of reaction the music the Scythe made would get from this crowd.

“So what brings you here, tonight?” asked Joe.

“This wasn’t my idea, believe me. Right about now I was supposed to be settling down with my sister, and our friends, around a nice fire, drinking eggnog, roasting chestnuts…stupid blizzard!” She took a sip from her beer.

Joe looked out the window. A light rain was falling. “Blizzard?”

“Not here: Cleveland.” Buffy set the glass back down on the bar. “Their airport’s shut down until tomorrow morning, at the earliest. My flight was cancelled, after I’d turned over most of my luggage to them.”

“You need a place to stay?”

“I’m good,” said Buffy. “The airline is putting me up in the hotel down the road.”

“You don’t have any friends in town?”

“Nope, I was here for some business…it didn’t pan out.”

“What sort of business?”

“Shopping,” said Buffy.

“Shopping is a business?”

“What can I say?” asked Buffy. “I wanted to be a buyer, since I was a kid.” She grinned at him. “Actually, I’m with an outfit that locates, and evaluates artefacts for museums and things, and if the price is right, buys them.”

“What sort of artefacts?” asked Joe. “My friend Mac, over there…” He nodded toward the trio at the table. “…is an antiques dealer.”

“I mostly specialize in mediaeval weapons,” said Buffy. It was a convenient cover story, that explained why her luggage so often contained very sharp objects. And she could talk very knowledgeably about all sorts of weapons, and had picked up enough from Giles and her mother over the years that she could do the same with books, and primitive art.

“Then you should definitely talk to Mac,” said Joe. “He has one of the finest sword collections in the Northwest.”

Buffy looked over the three at the table. “So, which one’s Mac?”

“The guy with the pony-tail,” said Joe. “If you tell me your name, I could introduce you to him.”

Buffy held her hand out over the bar to him. “Buffy Summers, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Joe took her hand, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss it, but he settled for a firm handshake. “Joe Dawson, and the pleasure is all mine.”