The Jump House

[der meister 3,245]

               The Jump House, a strange little hole-in-the-wall bar in Redmond, was everything I feared it could be when defenseman Ryuji Sakamoto first transferred from Toronto to Seattle. Dingy, grimy, and with a weird mix of acid jazz and techno thumping over the tinny speaker system, it was something out of a fever dream. Most of the patrons looked normal enough, though nearly all were dressed discretely, and I saw more pleather looking in any direction than I would have found in a J. Giles Band video. Still, the drinks were cheap and I could see what would be appealing about the place from Sakamoto's perspective – it's easy to get lost in the crowd when the lights are dimmed and the clientele is more interested in not being seen.

 

               On our way to a table in the back, a man wearing a trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat nodded at us from the shadows of his booth table, the yellowing lightbulb making his grinning teeth look like desiccated fangs. I ignored him, and I don't believe Sakamoto noticed him in the first place as he eagerly bounced his way to our spot.

 

               "This place is bonkin'!" Sakamoto exclaimed over the music.

 

               "Bonkin'?" I asked, genuinely taken aback, wondering if I heard him properly.

 

               "Yeah, man. I'm trying to get that started again! Hoping it will catch on this time. I’m putting in some extra work on my skating this offseason, so I’m plannin’ on being pretty bonkin’ on the ice, too. It’s gonna be huge, man!"

 

               I let the comment lie and surveyed the other patrons. Aside from the trenchcoated man, there was a table with three people loudly enjoying themselves, several tables with people by themselves, and a startlingly mismatched couple, with a woman who easily cleared six and a half feet in height laughing jovially with her companion, a man who maybe reached five feet. The man had a rather luxious beard, trimmed to a fine point, which bobbed up and down with his laughter like a blade. The Jump House made me uneasy.

 

               I was about to say as much to Sakamoto when a waitress came by our table and all the words left my brain. She was petite without being skin and bones, with a sharp jawline and ears that curved slightly upward at the tips, barely poking out through her nuclear red hair. Her eyes were a jade green and seemed to sparkle more than the dismal light of The Jump House should allow. Her shirt was tight, accentuating her subtle curves in a way that teased more than you’d imagine someone with her body type would be able to tease. She smiled at us before introducing herself as Cherry. Her voice was smoky but smooth, like silk rubbing against silk. She made pictures come to mind that I’d never imagined, of her dancing in the moonlight in places I’ve never seen. She was quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.

 

               And like any good story, that’s when the trouble really started.

 

The booths are in the back....