The Apple

The bar was smoky. As soon as I walked through the door my eyes began to burn. But I needed a drink. I took a seat at an empty booth along the far wall and leaned back, stretching my legs across to the seat opposite me. It had been a long day.

Bank managers always seemed less than patient when it came to problems with their security systems. And this problem had been anything but an “easy fix.” But that was why I had been sent; my company knew I could handle the problem. And after three days, I had. Now I just wanted to get back home, away from this "hole-in-the-wall" town.  Thankfully my flight left the following morning at ten.

Looking around the bar I saw a large open area, presumably for dancing, though no one had taken to the floor. Most of the patrons sat at the bar or in small groups at the numerous tables. It was only seven thirty, and a Thursday night, but the crowd seemed energetic, enjoying themselves and the atmosphere. It was “wing night,” and the sweet smell of buffalo wings permeated the haze of cigarette smoke. The bar wasn’t big or particularly flashy, but it had a good feel to it.

The waitress came over to take my drink order. She was a good ten years older than me, with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. A tight black t-shirt with two faded white guitars crossed in an X hugged her figure. She checked my ID, spending some time looking over it closely. I wondered if it was because I was from out of state, or the fact that even though I was twenty-four I still could pass for nineteen. With a smile, she handed back my license and went to get my drink. 

I let my eyes wander over the numerous other patrons. Four men sitting at the bar, all clad in black riding leather, were joking with one of the waitresses. She seemed to be feigning interest in them, putting up with their attention as part of her job. Beside her sat two other men, both wearing baseball hats and watching the game on the big screen behind the bar. In unison, they threw up their hands and let out an “oooooooh!” as the umpire called the runner safe. A group of three middle-aged couples sat at the table closest to me, the three women drinking their mixed drinks while their husbands shared a pitcher. They were talking about weather, of all things! Two of the four pool tables were being used. None of the players had much skill, and in fact they spent more time smoking and drinking than actually playing. I turned my attention to the game on the TV. It seemed like the Yankees were always televised, no matter where in the country you were. Oh well, I thought, nothing more relaxing than watching baseball.

The waitress returned shortly with my beer, and another smile. I thanked her and watched her walk to the next booth. She didn’t look too bad for her age, but the fact that she kept calling me “hun” made me feel like I was about twelve. I took a drink and rested my head against the high-backed booth.

After a few minutes I found myself busily peeling the label off my bottle. It was a strange habit, one that I had been doing it since college. I was about halfway finished when I felt someone brush against my shoulder. I looked up in time to catch a glimpse of a young brunette in tight faded jeans and a white sleeveless shirt. She strolled casually over to the jukebox, leaned on the machine with one hand and began scrolling through the inventory with the other. Her profile was amazing. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I watched as she absently tucked a few loose strands of her long dark hair behind an ear.

I blinked and glanced around the bar. The bikers at the bar were all watching the woman, grins on their faces. The two men watching the game had turned on their stools so they could have a better look at her. Even the bartender was enjoying the view he had from behind the bar.

I looked back to the woman as she pulled a dollar bill from her pocket and fed the machine. She pressed the buttons and stepped back. A few seconds later the opening riff of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” filled the bar. Not too bad, I thought, beautiful and she’s got good taste. She turned and walked up to the bar, leaning over to place her order. A small tattoo was visible on her lower back as her shirt rode up. It looked like a rose with flames surrounding it. Before I could get a better look, she turned around, drink in hand. Her eyes met mine. They were dark, intense. Without hesitation, she walked toward me.

“Mind if I join you?” Her voice was smooth, sultry. It fit her perfectly.

“Of course not,” I said. The condensation on my bottle made the half-peeled label go right back on as if it hadn’t been tampered with.

She slid into the seat opposite me and set her drink down. I noticed she had no purse, no wallet, not even a cell-phone. Those always seemed like the first things people tossed on the table when they sat down, but not her. Instead she just leaned back, crossed her legs and smiled at me.

Now I like to think I’m a decent looking guy, I don’t have problems with the ladies. But I’d never had a girl like her ask to sit with me. It was as if the perfect woman had stepped out of my head into the seat across from me.

Her name was Brooke. We made small talk for a few minutes, seeming to hit things off quite well. She asked what I did and surprisingly continued talking to me even after I told her I worked for a computer security firm. With each passing moment I began to loosen up, no longer nervous or anxious. I began to feel very much at ease with her.

I don’t know how long we talked, maybe twenty minutes, maybe an hour. The bar had filled up considerably during that time and a few of the patrons had begun to make use of the dance floor. We watched them, sharing a laugh over how ridiculous some of them looked. Then, with a sly grin, Brooke stood up and walked back to the jukebox.

She shook her hips as the drums of INXS’s “I Need You Tonight” began. Before I knew what was happening, we were on the dance floor. She moved with a kind of feline fluidity. The combination of the music and her body so close to mine put me in a kind of trance. It was as if we knew each other’s moves. The lights in the bar were a blur, the other people seemed not to exist. There was only Brooke.

I didn’t hear the song end, or any of the songs after it either. When I came back to my senses I was looking into her eyes, her arms wrapped around my neck. Both of us were breathing heavily. I watched a small bead of sweat run along her neck and disappear down the front of her shirt. She was absolutely gorgeous. 

We walked back to the booth, this time she sat beside me. She leaned close, her shoulder nestled against mine. For a long while we were both silent.

And then we kissed.

There was nothing quick or emotionless about it. Instead it was the deepest and most passionate kiss I had ever had. Her mouth was hot, her taste was sweet. I felt myself getting lightheaded.

When we finally parted I had to take a moment to catch my breath. Her eyes were like fire, burning with a deep thirst. There was something else in those eyes, too.

“I know you’re lonely,” she said, her face only inches from mine. “So am I.”

I stared into her eyes. My heart felt as if it was about to burst from my chest.

“Brooke, I just met you.” I was trying to think logically, but my emotions were clouding my mind. A small voice in my head was trying to tell me something, but the beating of my heart was drowning it out.

“I can give you everything you could ever want.” The words caught me off-guard. Her voice was no louder than a whisper, but it too seemed to burn. I looked at her, slightly confused.

“What?” I asked somewhat jokingly, thinking maybe she was just trying to get a reaction from me. But the look she gave me was anything but joking. It felt like she was staring into my soul.

Brooke placed her hand on my leg and spoke softly into my ear. “I know what you want,” she said as her fingers dug deep into my thigh. “The job at Microsoft, that big house in the hills, a red Ferrari parked in the garage, and a beautiful woman to share it with. You can have all of that and more.” She moved her other hand onto my leg and squeezed.

My mood had gone from entranced to complete shock in the span of a few seconds. Was she serious? How could she possibly have known about those things? “Who are you?” I asked.

Brooke leaned back a bit, a smug look on her face. “When was the last time God answered your prayers? Haven’t you ever wondered why He never seems to give you what you’re looking for?”

She grabbed my hand, her grip was like a vice.

“I can give you everything! And all you have to do,” she leaned in and kissed me, “is take me with you.”

I sat there, speechless. Something was very wrong with all of this. Suddenly it became clear. A cold sweat began to seep from my pores. The fog that had clouded my mind disappeared. There’s no way, I thought. Was I sitting beside…?

Brooke must have seen the look on my face and knew what I was thinking. She tossed her head back with a laugh. “No, no. I’m just a servant, a pawn. But he was the one who sent me. He knows you, knows what you want. And he can give it to you.”

My head was spinning. I swallowed hard, and tried to come back to my senses.

“Why me?” I asked. “Of all the people in this place, why me?” I looked around, at the bikers, the loud drunks at the bar, old man flirting with the table of young women.

“Because there is greatness ahead of you,” she said. “Dreams that can come true, prayers that were once unanswered now realized. A life of pleasure and wealth, and all you have to do is take it.”

I had been raised in the church, both of my parents were active members. But in college I had valued sleeping more than sitting through service. Since then I had been to church a handful of times, the last being a friend’s wedding over a year ago. I never had much of an opinion of religion, either for or against it. It was just something that didn’t really matter to me. But now, with Brooke’s beautiful dark eyes staring deep into mine, I found myself thinking back to Sunday school. I vaguely remembered the story of Adam and Eve and how the Devil tempted Eve with an apple.

Brooke must have sensed my uncertainty because she quickly snuggled back up against my side.

“I would be there for you, with you, always,” she whispered, resting her head on my arm.

She felt so warm, so inviting. I pictured myself falling asleep with her at my side each night, waking up with her every morning. I thought of that house in the hills, the long driveway winding through the woods. It all seemed so perfect.

“Will you dance with me?” I asked. Brooke looked up at me, a shy smile on her face. I led her out to the dance floor.

It was a slow song. We danced close, holding each other in our arms. I ran my hand through her long dark hair.

When the song ended we remained on the dance floor. She was smiling, her fingers intertwined with mine. My heart was racing, but outside I was calm.

I kissed her forehead.

“Goodbye Brooke.” I pulled away from her slowly. She jerked her head up, and I readied myself for an assault. But instead of anger in her eyes I saw that they had become moist.

“You’re sure?” Her voice was no more than a whisper, but it sounded much weaker than before.

I nodded, and smiled sympathetically. My mind was made up.

“This is for me.” Brooke took my head in her hands and kissed me. This kiss was softer, gentler. “Goodbye.”

With that, Brooke walked from the dance floor and out the front door. I stood there for a moment, trying to keep my knees from buckling. I took a deep breath, it seemed to help. Slowly, casually, I walked over to the bar and paid my tab. I could feel the eyes on me as I walked.

The next morning, my luggage packed, I stopped at the front desk on my way from the hotel. The older gentleman behind the counter took my credit card, scanned it, and handed me the receipt.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said bending over behind the counter. “This was left for you.”

He handed me a small brown package. On the front was written my name and room number. There was no other marking or information.

“It was on the desk when I came in this morning.” The man shrugged his shoulders, and went about straightening the brochures on the counter. More than slightly confused, I thanked him and headed for the front doors.

Before I reached the exit my curiosity took over. I set my luggage down and carefully began to unwrap the package, slowly just in case.

As the wrappings fell away I found myself looking at the cover of the Bible. It was new, the black gloss finish shone in the lights of the lobby. The binding crackled as I opened it. There was something written on the inside of the front cover.

"May this be a guide for you in the darkest of times. Brooke."

I was completely stunned. Who was she?

My eyes fell back to the book in my hands. I noticed that one of the pages toward the back was dog-eared. I quickly flipped to it.

It was the book of James. I looked at the first verse. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.”

I found myself looking up, but not at the ceiling, at something beyond that, beyond even the blue sky outside. And then I smiled.