The Shack

It’s a dark bar guarded by a dark man. We enter, climbing the concrete steps into a dimly lit space. What I don’t know is that this bar goes on forever, winding up sets of stairs, through rooms with bars, pool tables, couches, a kitchen. But I’ll find that out soon enough.
I stare around, squinting my eyes in surprise at the crowd gathered here. I recognize the music. Here, I can rarely name artists and song titles, but here, I know them. A man with square black glasses and a mustache slips past me and I smile, repulsed by his fashion sense but intrigued by his presence. Hipsters? In Cape Town?
Really.

We get cheap drinks. I stated earlier in the night that I think Black Label is the PBR of Cape Town and I believe I’ve been proven right. Everyone is tattooed cute and I’m trying not to stare. Thank god I wore my black skinny jeans and not some dress, I think, and then shake the notion out of my head with a toss of my hair and a flip of my fringe. (Yes, I fit right in here. Not on purpose, and not really, but the façade will keep them at bay for now.)

A man sits next to us. He wants to talk to my tall blond friend. She stands up and sits on my other side. She pulls out her phone, and then walks across the room. The other two are cuddling. I stare for a while. There’s a nearly melted candle on the table in front of me. I stare at that when I get bored of staring at jean shorts.

I turn to the man. “Tell me something,” I say, uttering my most used but worst pick up line. It’s all right; I have no intention of actually picking him up. “I’m bored.” For once, this is not a lie. Sometimes it’s easier to tell strangers the truth.
“Anything?” he says, turning to me, exhaling blue smoke and then tapping the ash off of his cigarette.
“Anything.”
“What color was your room when you were ten?” he asks. He has dark hair and a straight nose.
“Care Bears,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “It wasn’t painted until I was twelve.”
“It was painted Care Bears when you were twelve? That’s not what I asked.” He replies.
I spent a minute explaining. Care Bears up to twelve, blue and green post twelve.
“You seem very sure of this,” he says.
“I wasn’t ten too long ago,” I respond.
We chat about Los Angeles and La Jolla for a while. And then London.
My friend sits back down.
“Her eyes are almost as beautiful as mine,” he says to her. I roll my beautiful eyes.
He asks her where she’s from. She tells him Cape Town. She’s the one who’s lying now. I tell him she’s my host sister. We’re together in the lie.
Finally they tell me we’re leaving.
I stand and smile at him. “It was lovely not to meet you,” I say and then turn and walk down the concrete stairs into the darkness of Cape Town night.