churned up by its wheels splashed the full left-hand side of Samantha’s body. Shoes, jeans – jacket. Three weeks ago that had been new.
So it was no surprise when she saw the flashing neon sign of the bar up ahead that she gritted her teeth and decided the best thing to do was to stop, seek shelter, and try again later, when – if, cynical voice reminded her – the weather had passed, or at least lightened to something a little more manageable.
Samantha ran the last fifty feet flat out, stepped into the small alcove into which the door was set, and shook herself dry as best possible. Folder especially – couldn’t have that getting wet, she reminded herself drily. Then, with a sigh, she pushed through the door and walked inside.
2
How many times had Samantha passed this place without ever having stopped in? She had expected it to be small and dingy, but in truth what she stepped into looked immaculate. The entire room was decked out in shining, rounded mahogany, and split into two: one raised third, almost like a podium above the rest, on which the bar itself was housed, lined with tall steel seats with artistically twisted legs; and the remainder at ground level, populated with round and square tables that were surrounded by wooden chairs with plush red cushion seats. Against one wall was a jukebox – forties style, which was pretty cool – beside which stood a man who was keying away with his back to her. At the moment there was a low tune playing that Samantha might have heard on the radio. Might.
Samantha took this all in with pleasant surprise. She let out a breath of relieved tension which she was unaware she’d been holding, patted her shoulder-length blonde hair – it was damp, but better than what she could say for the rest of her – and crossed to the bar. Placing her folder down gingerly onto the smooth surface, she lowered herself into one of the seats. It was so tall she dropped only maybe an inch in height.
On the surface of the bar itself was a small touch-screen display, which illuminated itself as Samantha sat down.
A jovial electronic voice greeted, “Hello! Welcome to Thoroughfare! Please make your selection.”
Samantha’s lips drew down into a line. She hadn’t really wanted a drink, but there was little else to do – the bar was practically empty, she had no intention of talking, and the only thing she had with her beyond her phone was the folder of work which she did not want to look at another second tonight – and so she studied the first page of drinks she was presented with. These must have been the most popular selections, she mused; beers and lagers and cider lined the top rows, followed by a handful of colourful cocktails.
She thumbed an icon for an orange concoction – a Sex on the Beach – and the display brought up a close-up of the drink alongside a description and a breakdown of its contents. And that cheery voice again: “Good choice! Please swipe your card.”
Her purse was tucked into the inner pocket of her jacket, so Samantha withdrew it, took out a thin, clear piece of plastic, and swiped it over a sensor in the display’s bottom corner. A second later the screen turned green, her card had been debited, and a glass was flipped out by a mechanised arm from beneath the bar. Before Samantha could even blink, a tube joined the arm and sloshed out the liquid, hummed before spitting out two crescents of ice, and whipped out of sight.
Samantha sighed, ran a tentative finger around the top edge of the glass. Leaning forward, she lifted it just an inch and sipped.
Well. At least it wasn’t bad.
“Excuse me?”
Samantha looked up. To her right stood the man whose back had been to her when she walked in. He stood back a short distance – maybe a metre or so – and there was this wary, almost deferential kind of look on his face. Probably isn’t coming any closer in case I bite, Samantha thought.
“Err, hi,” the man stammered after he didn’t receive a response. “I, um – well, I wondered if I might buy you a drink maybe?”
Samantha lifted the glass laconically. “Already got one, thanks.”
The man pulled a face, wiped a hand across his brow. “Yeah, I see that. Um …” He faltered a moment or two and laughed nervously. His eyes