The fratboys were the first to arrive. They’d been there
since, gawd, eight o’clock? Little bastards’ IDs were fake. Not
that I cared, little fuckers could get as drunk as they wanted,
long as they were wrapped around a tree somewhere by the time I
was on my way home. There were four of them that night. Usually
didn’t dare come out in more than groups of two, so these
assholes were daring. Even if I didn’t recognize the
craftsmanship of their IDs (Joey the Fink down on 4th and
Sixth) I could tell by their conversation and choice of
beverage.
Fratboy #1, tall fucker built like a jock and probably
hung like a chipmunk, was drinking a Bud; Fratboy #2,
weasely-looking twerp with a nasty disposition was drinkin’
Coors Lite; Fratboy #3, muscle-bound knot-head with a southern
accent, was drinking Southern Comfort with a lime (fucker was
gayer than the day is long); and Fratboy #4, wife-beater
wearin’, mullet sporting greaser in overalls and a red
handkerchief drinking Pabst. And their conversation?
“Man, I fucked her good. She wanted it and I gave it to
her, like a coupla’ fuckin’ bunnies,” stated Fratboy #3, who
had never been within ten yards of a naked pussy.
“Dude, I puked for fucking three hours last night…”
Fratboy #2 put in. Have another one, pal.
“Fucking fuckers fucked it up all over the fucking place!”
whined Fratboy #1, no doubt lamenting the recent clouting of
the local football team.
“Mmm. This is good beer,” said Fratboy #4, who obviously
had never tasted GOOD beer.
And so on.
‘Round 9:30 walks in Bear and the Professor.
The Professor was a regular, Guinness on tap, always a
tall. Usually three. He wasn’t short, but nor was he tall, and
skinny as a rail. He always had an opinion and could back it up
by spouting intellectualisms that made my head spin. He had a
nice smile and was a hell of a good tipper when he wanted to be
(which was frequently); so I let his sometimes rather caustic
rhetoric slip by me.
His companion, Bear, was aptly named due to the fact that
his mother must have had relations with a giant to spawn him.
I’d seen him once or twice in here, always with the Professor,
sometimes with a pretty but whiny brunette called Amanda. She
was a Kalua Mudslide or a Strawberry Marguerite. Bear, while
quite large and with extreme intimidation potential, blew all
thoughts of fright out of the water, usually with an easy-going
smile. Tall Killian’s Irish Red and great dimples.
That night, the Professor was on a roll.
“Look, all I’m saying is that the structure of society
itself rotting from within. The Gen Xer’s are all grown up and
are too busy masturbating their fragile egos to allow their
children to do anything but watch MTV and rob convenience
stores. The Baby Boomers are losing teeth and hair and blaming
it all on the government (and rightfully so, I might add), and
the United States would rather entrust their leadership to a
moron sympathy graduate from Yale rather than somebody who can,
I dunno’ run the fucking country?” The Professor managed to say
this all in one, long breath.
Bear smiled at me as he sat down, ordered his drink and
let the Professor order his before responding.
“Chris, you voted for him.”
I caught myself smiling as I went to fill the order.
Miss Lonely-hearts walked in around 10 or so and sat down
at the bar. She was a pretty thing, and dressed like she knew
it. I’d never seen her before, but her type was all too
frequent. Bloody Mary with extra salt and two pickles. Alone.
Desperate. Sits alone at the bar for hours, waiting for
someone, anyone, to validate her. Bear, the Professor, the
Fratboys, all noted her entrance. Bear and the Professor both
nodded to her as she passed, and the Fratboys got quiet, and
when I went to refill their drinks, I heard them whispering.
“I’d like to bend her over and show her why they call me
Big Daddy,” whispered #3. Huh. Wonder which of his boyfriends
gave him that name.
I went over to the Professor’s table and grabbed his
second empty Guinness glass. Bear was just finishing his first,
so I waited until he polished it off. After grinning at me, he
glanced at Miss Lonely-hearts.
“What say you, Chris? Go talk to her.”
The Professor shot a glance her direction and shook his
head.
“Lord, Adam, you should know better than that. The girls
that come to a place like this alone are either waiting for a
date or waiting for trouble. Did I tell you about the time...”
I moved off with the glasses before the Professor could
launch into another full-blown diatribe.
It wasn’t till 11:30 that the Mack Daddy and the Goofy
Sidekick sauntered (or in the Goofy Sidekick’s case, stumbled)
in and sat down. Mack Daddy, generally just a penis with feet
and an ego, demanded an extra dry Martini with three olives on
a plastic sword-thingy. The Goofy Sidekick, the unfortunate
product of a weak personality (and a recessed jaw that made you
ponder whether or not he actually HAD a chin) ordered a
Michelob.
Immediately after sitting down, Mack Daddy was scoping out
Miss Lonely-hearts.
“Now that is a high quality ass, wouldn’t you say Jimmy?”
the Mack stated in his chauvinistic way. Jimmy, no doubt
thinking so though he NEVER would have put it in so many words,
shrugged. A real conversationalist, that one. But no doubt it
suited Mack Daddy just fine, for he didn’t even react to his
cohort’s silence.
It was barely 11:45 when Mack Daddy made his move. The
Fratboys had been unusually quiet since Miss Lonely-hearts
walked in, now were paying close attention to Mack Daddy’s
actions. Bear had spent the entire time trying to convince the
Professor that he should go talk to Miss Lonely-hearts, and it
finally looked like the Professor would actually go do it (Bear
was obviously a master of the power of persuasion), but Mack
Daddy had already zeroed in.
As he stood, I moved behind the bar and swiped away her
empty glass, while muttering to the oblivious woman:
“Look out honey.”
And then Mack Daddy was just behind her, whispering into
her ear. I doubt anyone else could hear him, but standing where
I was, I caught every word.
“All those curves and me with no brakes... What is a
fella’ to do?”
“I can recommend a good mechanic.”
Miss Lonely-hearts didn’t even skip a beat, didn’t even
turn around, just jumped on the line. She was a veteran. But
Mack Daddy, wasn’t deterred, but neither was he quiet. The
whole bar was now listening.
“Baby, tonight is the night when all your dreams come
true.”
This time she did turn, and pushed him off her shoulder.
“Even the one where Elvis Presley is beating you senseless
with a lawn-dart?”
Bear snorted, and Mack Daddy shot him a dirty look.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you find me sexy?” Mack Daddy
leered, trying to play it cool. Miss Lonely-hearts smiled
coyly.
“I’ll give you one thing: Your determination far outstrips
your intelligence,” she murmured. Mack Daddy looked confused,
then smiled broadly, no doubt thinking she was talking about
stripping.
“Why thank you.”
Both Bear and the Professor were in stitches, and even the
Fratboys were chuckling.
The Goofy Sidekick ambled up to Mack Daddy and whispered
in his ear. Mack Daddy’s entire demeanor shifted from confident
to furious.
“You ungrateful cow!” he snarled, grabbing her by the arm.
The Professor was up in a second, gripping Mack Daddy by the
forearm.
“She obviously isn’t interested, Don Juan, so why not take
a hike?”
Mack Daddy glanced down at the Professor’s hand, wrenched
his arm away, and backhanded the smaller man in the face,
knocking him to the floor. All the Fratboys were up and moving,
but Bear got there first.
I don’t recall when exactly it was he put his trenchcoat
back on, but there he was, in full force, the friendly dimples
gone, jovial manner replaced by calm, graceful control. The kid
knew what he was doing, this much I knew. He reached down and
helped the Professor to his feet then squared off in front of
Mack Daddy.
It was more than evident that Mack Daddy was strong, he
had a fine physique, was easily as tall as Bear, and the cool
ease with which he struck the Professor indicated that this was
not his first fight.
“Now guys...” I started, but trailed off when Bear looked
at me. It was clear that this was his ballgame. He turned back
to Mack Daddy.
“I suggest you return to your seat, finish your drink, and
leave quietly,” Bear stated calmly. Mack Daddy sneered.
“And who’s gonna’ make me? You, tubby? Or this ugly bitch
next to me?” He punctuated his point by slapping Miss
Lonely-hearts quite heartily on the ass.
I saw something dangerous flash in Bear’s blue eyes, but
other than that, his outward demeanor gave no indication of his
anger.
“You can insult me all you wish, all it proves is your
distinct lack of intelligence. But never insult a lady in my
presence,” Bear murmured quietly. His manner was almost
off-hand, but there was an underlying threat to his words that
made it clear that he would act accordingly if Mack Daddy
didn’t conform to his wishes.
Without another word, Mack Daddy let loose with a punch
that looked like it could cave in a mountain. Everybody winced.
Bear never moved. The blow landed, his lip was split and
bleeding, and the force of the blow had turned his head to one
side, but he turned it back immediately. He didn’t even rock
back on his heels.
“Now I suggest that you leave before one of those young
men,” he nodded in the general direction of the Fratboys,
“calls the police.”
Fratboy #1, for all his bluff and bluster, got the hint
and moved in the direction of the pay phones.
It then became evident to Mack Daddy that he was sorely
outnumbered, and I realized Bear’s ploy. Get everybody in the
room on your side, and let your enemy know it. Best way out of
a fight. Mack Daddy glared at Bear.
“This isn’t over,” he growled. Bear smiled, though it must
have hurt like Hell to do so.
“Oh, yes it is. Please understand: If I ever see you in
here again, I will kill you.” There was no disputing his words,
and in that moment, in the trenchcoat, considering the gravity
of his tone and the words, Bear looked ten feet tall. Mack
Daddy glared back, trying to stare him down. Bear didn’t move.
Finally Mack Daddy broke his gaze and stormed for the
door, with the Goofy Sidekick trailing behind, looking almost
sheepish.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Bear’s assumed
demeanor melted, and he was once again the jovial, friendly
individual I’d known him to be. He smiled and nodded to Miss
Lonely-hearts, who handed him a napkin to dab his lip with. The
Fratboys all gathered around Bear, informing him that he would
have been better off decking the guy. Bear listened and nodded
patiently, and once they had quieted, he spoke softly.
“That would only proven who was stronger. I wanted to
prove who was better.”
Ultimately, Bear and the Professor returned to their
drinks. The Fratboys finally packed it up and went home, and
Miss Lonely-hearts settled up, thanked Bear once more, then
disappeared out the door, and it was just those two. I went to
their table to see if there was anything else I could get them.
As I neared, I heard snippets of their conversation.
“Show off,” the Professor was muttering.
“What’d you want me to do, let him mop the floor with you,
then step in?” Bear shot back, a big grin on his face. The
Professor, who was obviously joking, shrugged and laughed.
“Anything else for you boys?” I asked. Bear shrugged and
he drained the last from his glass.
“I think we’re about set to go. I need to get home and
take care of my lip,” he said with a sheepish smile. I nodded,
retrieved the tab from my apron and laid it on the table.
“You know, you didn’t have to do that,” I suddenly found
myself saying. I had been addressing both of them and they both
looked at me. Bear looked bemused and the Professor looked
thoughtful.
“Yeah we did,” the Professor said (which was no doubt the
shortest sentence I’d ever heard him utter) and Bear nodded in
agreement.
“Yeah we did,” he echoed and grinned. He opened his
wallet, dropped a twenty on the table, adding to the
Professor’s five, leaving a healthy 30% tip for me, and stood,
swinging his trenchcoat over his broad shoulders yet again.
He smiled at me as they passed.
“Have a good night Bernice,” he said softly.
I blinked. I had no idea that Bear knew my name, I’d
stopped wearing a nametag within a week of working here. I
turned to say something back to him, but he, and the Professor,
were already gone.
We closed down early that night, seeing as nobody was
there to serve.