McMillan’s Bar

McMillan's Bar

By Douglas Lake

"Martini. Hold the olive," Daryl said.

He settled onto his usual stool at McMillan's and scanned the room. Another Saturday night. Laughter, raised glasses, the low churn of conversation. He unbuttoned his black suit jacket, pulled out his phone, and made a call.

It rang four times before going to voicemail.

Daryl hung up without leaving a message.

The bartender set a martini in front of him and studied Daryl's graying hair and tired eyes. "Long day?"

"You bet. Another day of conspiracies and lies."

"Par for the course with you." The bartender pushed away the cash Daryl offered. "On me

tonight."

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "Very generous."

"One of these days you're going to tell me which part is true and which part is hokum." Daryl took a sip. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself."

A woman slid onto the empty stool beside him.

She was Black, maybe mid-thirties, with jet-black hair, a denim jacket, blue jeans, and green eyes so vivid that Daryl noticed them before anything else.

"Anyone sitting here?" she asked.

"All yours."

She caught the bartender's attention with a small wave.

"First time in here," she said. "I'm from out of town."

"Welcome to McMillan's. This is my weekend detox."

"Bad job?"

"Interesting job."

"Nearby?"

"Close enough."

She looked at him for another second. "You know, you look familiar. Are you an actor?"

Daryl laughed. "God, no. I prefer reality."

"Mindy." She extended a hand.

"Daryl."

Her grip was cool and firm.

The bartender appeared. "What'll it be?"

Mindy glanced at Daryl's glass. "A martini. Same as his, but I'll take the olive."

The bartender looked at Daryl. "Good taste tonight, my man."

Daryl shrugged. "I'm a man of many colors."

"Or shades of gray," Mindy said.

The bartender grinned and turned away.

Mindy kept looking at Daryl.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm trying to place you."

"Like I said, I'm here most weekends."

"No. That's not it."

Then her face brightened. "Television."

Daryl's smile faded a fraction.

"Yesterday," she said. "You were standing behind the vice president. Silver tie. Glasses."

He took a longer drink. "You have quite an eye."

"So I was right." She is proud of herself.

"Unfortunately."

The bartender delivered her drink. Daryl reached for his wallet.

"This one's on me."

"That's sweet of you."

She lifted her glass. He touched his to it.

"Cheers."

She sipped, then nodded toward the windows. "That big House down the street

must be an interesting place to work around. A treasure trove of secrets."

"Most of them are less interesting than people think."

"That's disappointing."

"Reality usually is."

"And yet your government released all that UFO footage last week." Daryl glanced at her.

"Sorry," she said. "I know. Everybody's talking about it."

“That's the problem." Daryl shook his head.

"You don't find it interesting?" She inquired.

"I find national security interesting. Whether a blurry light is from China, Russia, one of

ours, or something a pilot misidentified isn't the point. My job is to make sure we're prepared before somebody else knows what we aren't prepared for."

"So you don't believe any of it?"

"Aliens?"

She smiled. "Little green men. Flying saucers. Visitors from beyond. Pick your favorite."

"I don't have a favorite." Daryl replied glumly.

"No imagination?"

"Too much access to briefing rooms."

Mindy laughed softly.

Daryl leaned an elbow on the bar. "People love the fantasy because fantasy is safe. The

truth is usually technical, bureaucratic, and boring. And when it isn't boring, it's dangerous."

"Dangerous how?"

"Because people don't handle uncertainty well. Tell them you don't know what something is and they'll fill in the blank with whatever scares them most."

"Maybe people see what they're prepared to see."

"Exactly."

"So there isn't any footage you can't explain?" Daryl paused.

"I didn't say that."

Her eyes stayed on him.

"There's footage I can't explain," he said. "That doesn't make it extraterrestrial. It makes it unexplained. Those are different things."

"You sound very certain." she said intently.

"I get paid to be skeptical." He said with a wink.

"What about time travel?" She asked.

"No."

"Secret societies?"

"No."

"The Loch Ness Monster?"

"Definitely no."

"Freddy Krueger?"

Daryl stared over her shoulder and widened his eyes.

"Him I believe in. He's right behind you."

Mindy spun around. Daryl laughed, and after a startled second she did too.

"That's terrible," she said.

"You walked into it." He laughed.

She turned back toward him, still smiling.

Daryl found himself looking at her eyes again.

"Those must get commented on a lot."

"My eyes?"

"Hard not to notice."

For the first time, she looked almost shy. "They do."

Daryl finished his drink and stood.

"Well, I'm calling it a night. I've got an event tomorrow and a long drive. I can get your number maybe?”

"Already? It’s early!” She exclaimed.

“I'm old."

"You're not old."

"Tell my knees." He puts his hands on his knees and wobbles.

She laughed, then glanced toward the door. "You know…. I haven't seen the White House lit up at night yet."

Daryl hesitated.

"Tourist request," she said. "Nothing sinister."

"That's exactly what a sinister person would say." Daryl replied.

"Then you should probably keep an eye on me."

He smiled despite himself. "Fine."

"Let me use the restroom first."

She hurried away.

The bartender leaned across the bar. "She's something else."

"She's…nice."

"Nice? That's what you've got? No game man.” Bartender snickered.

"I'm perfectly happy being perfectly single."

"Sure you are."

Daryl slipped his phone into his pocket.

The bartender lowered his voice. "So. UFOs."

Daryl gave him a warning look.

"Come on. Are they real?" Asked the bartender.

Daryl put his hands through his hair and sighed.

"Some of what people are seeing is real technology. Some is garbage. Some of it I genuinely don't know. That's all you're getting."

"I knew it. You know nothing."

The bartender grinned, but Daryl didn't.

"I'm serious. There are people using the confusion because it helps hide things they don't

want examined too closely. Programs. Money. Decisions. Back door deals. It is all covering something else."

The bartender's grin disappeared. "You talking about your people?"

Daryl looked toward the restroom door.

"I'm talking to a lawyer Monday," he said. "After that, maybe a reporter."

"Jesus."

"Yeah." Daryl shuffled a bit.

"You're really going to blow the whistle?"

Daryl looked down at the empty martini glass. "I'm tired of helping people lie."

"That's going to piss off half of Washington."

"Probably more than half." Daryl said without any irony.

Mindy emerged from the hallway.

Daryl straightened. "Forget I said anything."

"Already forgotten."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Occupational hazard of being a bartender.” He salutes Daryl. “Enjoy the night sir.”

Mindy approached, slipping an arm through Daryl's. "Ready?"

"Always."

They stepped outside.

The night was mild, the sidewalks still busy. They walked beneath the streetlights while traffic whispered over the pavement.

Mindy looked upward. "Beautiful place." "Washington? Give it a week."

"No." She smiled. "Just... all of it."

Daryl glanced at her.

"New-city optimism," she said. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

They walked another block.

"Sometimes I think Orwell was just early," Daryl said.

"Orwell?" She asked.

"Nineteen Eighty-Four.. dystopian novel.”

"I haven't read it."

"Then maybe there's still hope for you.” Said Daryl.

Ahead of them, the White House glowed beneath the night sky. Mindy stopped.

For a moment she said nothing. "Wow."

"That's usually the reaction." Daryl laughs.

"It looks... possible." She said staring in awe.

Daryl frowned. "Possible?"

"Important. Full of possibility."

"You really are an optimist."

"And you're not." She shook her head.

"I work too close to it. You spend enough time around power, you stop believing there's magic behind the curtain. It's just people. Ambitious people, frightened people, compromised people. Same as everywhere else."

"And that's why you're leaving?" She asked looking at him.

Daryl looked at her sharply. "Who said I was leaving?"

Mindy's expression changed, just slightly.

"You did," she said. "Inside. You said you were tired of it."

He studied her, then looked back toward the White House.

"I'm moving on," he said. "Let's leave it at that."

"Because of the lies?"

"Because eventually you have to decide whether you're protecting the country or

protecting the people who run it."

Mindy nodded. "Maybe you're right."

Daryl checked the time.

"I should go. But it was good meeting you. I needed a normal conversation tonight."

"Normal?"

"Normal-ish."

"I'll take it." She smiled.

He returns the smile. "What are the odds, huh? You come into town, pick my bar, sit right beside me.

Like something out of a movie."

Mindy's smile held, but her eyes did not.

"About that," she said.

Daryl went still.

"Tonight wasn't entirely a coincidence."

He exhaled through his nose. "Of course it wasn't."

"I'm sorry."

"Reporter? Activist? Somebody's opposition researcher?"

"None of those."

"Then what?" He rubs his forehead. "I knew you came to McMillan's. I knew who you were." Daryl stepped away from her. "That's why I don't tell strangers what I do."

"You didn't. I already knew."

"Good for you. Have a good evening, Mindy. If that’s your real name.” He turned toward the street.

"Daryl."

He stopped. “What?”

"You said there was footage you couldn't explain."

He looked back at her. "That's what this is about?"

"Partly."

"There are a thousand people in this city who'd love to turn 'unexplained' into 'alien.' I'm

not one of them sorry to disappoint you and your little conspiracy theory buddies.”

"You also said the truth could be dangerous." She said looking directly at him,

Daryl felt uneasy. He stared at her. “What exactly do you want?"

Mindy took a step closer.

"You asked me where I'm from."

"No, I didn't."

"Not directly. I told you I was new in town. Remember?”

Something in her voice made the street seem suddenly quieter.

Daryl looked into her green eyes.

Suddenly the color vanished.

Not faded. Vanished.

For one impossible second, both eyes were entirely black. Her face seemed to shift with

them - not transforming so much as failing to hold its shape.

Beneath the woman he had been talking to was the brief suggestion of something smooth, dark, and unfamiliar.

Then Mindy was standing there again.

Same denim jacket. Same black hair. Same face. Daryl could not move.

Mindy watched him with an expression that was almost sympathetic.

"You were right about one thing," she said quietly. "People don't handle the truth very well."

Daryl's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Mindy smiled.

"Yes. We're here. Now... things are about to change. And you are just the man to make it happen. Oh, and if you mention me to anyone, the entire human race will be annihilated. So…Want to grab another drink?"