Chapter 4: The Elf

My ride to Tucson was hot and otherwise eventless. I took a few hours off between noon and four, the hottest hours for a rider, sitting it out in a bar in Lordsburg. It was a nice place to hide out, so I made myself at home and harassed one of the waitresses for hours. I had her laughing so hard she almost peed her pants, according to her, and all I was doing was telling her about my trip. She said she thought I was out of my mind, but I could tell by her comments, she knew I was serious down deep inside. I’m sure my comments about being taught how NOT to treat someone convinced her I was telling the truth.

I got to the hotel in Tucson pretty late, but the room was paid for in advance. I’d called from Lordsburg to make sure they knew I’d be late, but I was coming if I was still alive and if I was dead, I didn’t care if it was paid for and unused or not. The desk clerk got a kick out of that.

First thing in the morning, I texted Brandon Taylor to let him know I was in town and asked him to let me know his schedule so we could touch base. That evening, he brought my box to the room, so I was able to change into something a little nicer so we could head out for dinner. He knew of a nice club we could hit, and I realized that night why I didn’t stay in much closer contact with him like I had with Ronnie, for example.

Brandon and I knew each other in high school, then met up again in our junior year at college. We then kept in contact after we found we both had joined the Air Force. His commission led him to flight school, where mine led me to several Defense Department schools involving industrial management, even a few involving security and such. While there, I was working with a fellow from an intelligence agency and we got to know each other during the six weeks of one of the courses. I wound up going to work for him, in several ways, but that’s a whole different story. In any case, when I mentioned the guns and my past, that period of my life, some six years spent with special operations and intelligence operatives, was something I am extremely proud of, but can’t say shit about it to anyone that didn’t send us or wasn’t there with us.

Oh, yes. Brandon Taylor. He’s a pompous jerk. It wasn’t a half hour after we arrived that a woman approached me at our table and held her hand out for me to take and follow her. I thought it was to the dance floor. She pulled me over to the bar.

“You, I don’t recognize. How did you wind up with a putz like Brandon the Braggart? That’s his nickname here. Triple ‘B’ the girls all call him. Brandon the Bullshit Braggart. I can’t believe he doesn’t pull his joystick out of his pants sometimes and try to fly his damned plane in his chair. What’s your story? I saw you shaking your head in disgust at that last line he used on Mary. He’s a dweeb. Talk.”

“I don’t really have a story. I met him in school. High school. We ran into each other in college, later on in college, then when we found that we both wound up in the Air Force, I kind of stayed in contact with him. We’re not close, not like I am with other friends, but I’m on a sabbatical, a getaway of sorts, and thought I’d stop by. Speaking of stories, what’s a beautiful woman like you doing in a pop stand like this?”

She had the cutest giggle for a forty-year-old woman. “It’s my pop stand. Mary, the lady he was treating poorly, is one of the regulars. She trolls the place looking for flyboys or soldiers whose wives have either left them or are out here alone in training or whatever. She lost her husband on an IED. He was deployed out of Huachuca and never returned. My husband was an A-10 pilot. I know pilots. I used his life insurance money to buy this place.” I frowned. “Sorry. Don’t be sad. He died doing what he liked most. Second most was good too, and I don’t plan on replacing him, so, here I am. What kind of sabbatical, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m running away from a failed relationship, but in doing so I’m finding so many reasons not to care about her, that it turned into a fantastic vacation. I have met a couple of women that changed my entire outlook on life. Entire outlook. Just before all this, the plant I managed was moved out from under me to Chicago...”

“Yuckkkk,” she made a terrible sound.

“I know. I feel the same way. I opted not to follow. So, here I am, visiting friends and talking to gorgeous women, some at the bar they own.”

She giggled again. “Thank you for that. So, what did you, or do you, fly?”

“A little scooter. The closest I get to flying a real airplane is an aisle seat on a 737 or out on the highway on my little Sportster. I was in contracting. Program management and things like that, for the most part.”

“For the most part? Sounds hinky.”

“I had a couple of tours doing fun stuff that didn’t involve a desk OR an airplane.”

“Good for you. Things to remember and share with your grandchildren.” I cocked my head as I looked at her when she said that. “I saw your eyes and your smile when you mentioned it. You have something in your past that you really enjoyed, or are really happy about doing, or something similar. I won’t pry, but I can relate. My cousin was a Marine ... Sorry. My cousin IS a Marine. An old one. Some kind of Raiders thing, but in any case, when he gets to talking about his career, he smiles once in a while. Not often, but when he does, it’s genuine. Like yours just was. What are you drinking?”

“Crown rocks, water back.”

“Sally! Give this guy a double CR special reserve and a tall glass of Perrier on the house. He needs his world rocked a bit.” She turned back to me. “You have a good evening, sir...” I interrupted her.

“Charlie. Just Charlie, for now.” I tried out my James Bond introductory voice.

She giggled. “OK, Charlie. I’m Phyllis. Phyllis Rogers. My husband’s call sign was Jolly. You have a good evening here at Jolly Rogers’. I’m glad to have you here. Keep an eye on your friend there. At about eleven, eleven-thirty, he starts asking women to dance even AFTER they’ve said ‘no’ a couple few times. He’s kind of crude.” She patted my arm and walked away smiling.

Jesus, was I going to spend this entire trip meeting women that make Kim seem like the Devil’s wife incarnate? It seemed like it. Mary stopped by.

“Saw you talking to Phyl. She’s a peach. I’m Mary. You alone?”

“No, Mary, I’m not. I’m with Brandon, over there. Not with him.” Mary started laughing. “Bad choice of words, ya think?” She nodded.

“Come dance a quick one with me then I’ll leave you alone. You don’t look like you need anyone to keep you company. You don’t, do you?”

“No, Mary, not right now. I’m doing just fine and traveling. I’ll probably be on the road tomorrow and not see Tucson up close for quite a while. I’m good, but thank you.” She looked a bit dejected. “Oh, hell, come on. Can you swing a bit?” Her smile lit up everything in front of me.

Good God, could she. Brandon was jealous as hell and let me know that as soon as I got back to the table. I got a kiss on the cheek and a thank you from Mary. She scowled at him. You know, for a forty-year-old bar fly, she was rather attractive, and genuinely nice. She was just a lonely woman.

Brandon wound up in an argument with some guy over his girlfriend and showed me why he was leaving the service after twenty-four years as a Major. How he got picked to stay that long, past twenty, without a real war going on, was beyond me. Maybe his commander felt sorry for him. He did just get back from a tour in Afghanistan. Maybe they needed some warm bodies in cockpits. In any case, he mentioned he was retiring and moving on. He was looking for work as a corporate pilot with one of the big defense contractors there in town. All I could do was think to myself... ‘Good luck with that’. He didn’t have the temperament to get along in civilization. Especially in the corporate world where you actually had to treat other people with respect, and sometimes, God forbid, kindness.

Brandon was asked to leave, so I had him take me to my hotel, I shook hands with him, thanked him for helping me with my care package, wished him luck in his newfound civilian life, and watched him drive away. I now understood more about why he couldn’t keep a wife, too.

It’s about a seven to eight-hour ride from Tucson to San Diego, but I opted to start early and stop in Yuma to keep myself off the stove top of the desert in between. I had absolutely no reason to make this about getting anywhere quickly, and every reason to take my time.

The hotel in Yuma let me check in really early after I had lunch across the street. I changed and hit the pool there with quite different results. The scenery was absolutely tremendous, but the age of the participants was a touch prohibitive. A grandmother was there with a couple of sixteen or seventeen-year-old twins and their little brother. They were gorgeous, and fun to watch in their little bikinis. Grandma, not so much, but she thought she was. I swam and sunned and swam again, then got out and just ogled when what appeared to be the kids’ mother came out. It must be her husband’s mother that was with them. This woman, the mother, was a goddess. She was around my age, and so very, very beautiful. She was wearing a one piece, so there was probably a stretchmark issue, but her figure was amazing, her legs were tanned and ... Oooops, here come Daddy. I swam a bit more, got a few more eyes full, then left. That, I tell you, was a lucky man.

I rode around Yuma for a bit, hit a mall, just window shopping and girl watching, then hit Outback for dinner and headed back to the hotel. The waitress was so friendly, I was just anticipating her approaching me. I could not for the life of me explain what was happening. I just couldn’t. I’d never been much around women, I admit, for the most part, it was on purpose, but still, I just wonder what there is about a person’s aura that causes situations like Maureen and Martina. Even Phyllis saw that I wasn’t a bad guy. Mary probably didn’t care. She just wanted to dance and have some company. I pondered the situation all the way back to the room and right into an early night’s sleep.

I was up, and on the road, very early. It was Saturday, and I was hoping to meet up with Melissa and her wife late that morning, maybe take them out to lunch, and catch up. I texted them from the casino in the mountains just east of Alpine. That put me less than an hour from Melissa’s house in Imperial Beach. She texted back that they were waiting for me, gave me their new address, and told me they’d pick the place for lunch. They had a ‘fav’ and wanted to share it with me.

Their new house was on the beach. I don’t have any idea how an engineer can afford such an operation, but there they were. My bike fit on the sidewalk, which was good, since there was absolutely NO parking anywhere. They had two stalls under their house, as just about everyone did, but every square foot of parking area was filled with beach dwellers from the border all the way to La Jolla. If a guy got lucky and someone left, he’d have to hurry or someone else would be there to grab it. It was crazy.

I got a huge hug from Tracy and a hug and a cheek kiss from Melissa. I met Melissa during a launch rehearsal years ago, and we just hit it off as friends. Tracy often travels with her and is basically a crazy woman. She’s so funny, outgoing, and even outrageous, that being around her makes a person lose ten years and all of their inhibitions.

Tracy was not a skinny girl. She was a blonde bombshell with lots and lots of Tracy to hug. Fat? Not even a bit. Just full. Big boned, one might say. In any case, she was voluptuous, and pin up girl pretty. A bandana and some rolled up jeans, and she’d be a Rosie the Riveter, in spades.

Melissa was exactly the opposite. Long, lean, short curly light brown hair, and although a very good-looking woman, more of a glamorous look as opposed to cute and sparkly, like Tracy. Melissa was also about three or four inches taller than Tracy, making them look almost like man and wife from a distance, which in one manner of speaking, I guess they were.

They got me and my gear inside, poured a beer down me, and made sure I was relaxed enough after the ride through the hills. Once they established that, they took me to a little mom and pop Mexican place that outdid ANY food I had ever eaten, save a couple of steaks that I would have hurt people for. I jest. This place was excellent. It was clean, bright, cheery, and the Chili Verde was marvelous. I asked for and got a homemade tamale that put ninety-nine percent of all my previous tamale experiences to shame. I remember one better, just one, purchased off a cart on the corner by Home Depot up on Clairemont Mesa in the San Diego hills above Mission Bay. That was twenty years prior.

We joked about old times and a few meetings we were in when funny things were said and done. There were plenty. Tracy had been with Melissa for a long time, so she knew about a lot of what Melissa did. Not specifics, naturally, but in generalities, she knew her mate was an architect of some of Uncle Sam’s most precious assets in the next frontier.

Melissa was extremely adamant about a couple of things, one of which surprised me. She told me that I was welcome in her home at any time, regardless of the circumstances, and that as soon as my first child was on the way I was to call her. She needed to talk to me about something very serious, but it wasn’t really the right time to discuss it then and wouldn’t be the right answer until I had started my own family with the woman of my future. The one. The woman that would keep me until death us do part and all that. When that woman was pregnant, I was to call.

They fed me well and kept me busy in the evenings when they came home from work for a few days, then Tracy cut my hair, they patted me on my bottom, metaphorically, and sent me on my way. Next stop, Sunnyvale, California. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, there was a big blue building there. I had the opportunity to spend some time there and met some people that decided to stay when it was closed and subsequently dismantled. I still have a one-inch superstructure bolt that was removed after being bent by the Bay Area Earthquake of 1989. It survived twenty-two more years after that terrible day.

October 17^th, 1989. Yeah. Wild. It stopped game three of the World Series in its tracks. No one expected it, but since it was between the Athletics and the Giants, the visiting team wasn’t too far from home. They had to go a long way to get there, since all the bridges were damaged, but ... Enough said. Interesting times for a young Lieutenant just getting his feet wet in the space program. It wasn’t me. It was one of my bosses there. Hell, I was probably in junior high when the earthquake hit.

I just wanted to look around and see if a couple of folks were still in the area. It was different. Vastly different. Different to the point of not being recognizable. I did find two acquaintances, met each for dinner the next two nights, then on the third night, went to one of my old haunts, just to see what I could see. It was still there, but had changed names, and hands, obviously, by the looks of it. I was right at home here on my bike, though, I thought. I parked out front, backing in like the other six or seven bikes were, and didn’t really pay any attention other than making sure I wasn’t in anyone’s way.

The inside was nice. Dark, mostly wood accents, walnut, teak, dark oak, maybe, but clean, clear air, and not too awfully loud. A table had a few old timers wearing colorful leather jackets and there were a few more at the bar. The guys at the bar watched me come in. The guys at the table nodded to me when I looked over. I returned their greeting. The guys at the bar just turned away. They were wearing colors. I didn’t look very closely and I didn’t care who they were. I wasn’t from around here, so it didn’t really affect me one way or the other. Oh, well, might as well make the best of a possibly ugly situation.

I went to the bar, down around the corner from the ‘gang’, and took a seat. A really cute little elf came down and asked me to move one seat over toward the corner, away from the service area, then asked me what I’d like. Her voice tickled me.

I thought about what she did, but it left the seat next to the lift up door open. I was hoping it was for someone’s convenience, and not someone’s territory. I was not correct in my hopes but didn’t know that until later.

The elf listened as I asked for a double Crown rocks and a Coors Light and inquired as to whether they were still serving lunch or dinner. She smiled, nodded, handed me a menu, and spoke again. Her voice was a slightly high-pitched siren call. Looking at her face, her cute little nose, her green eyes, her complexion, her form in the tight little tank top, shorts, and heels, I just about came in my pants. She was the ultimate wet dream if a guy had the hots for little redheads. DING DING DING. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

“Yes. We’re still a restaurant. The new owners ride big motorcycles, and a few of their friends hang out here. A few people who want to be their friends do, too.” She nodded slightly at the guys at the bar. “So, you knew the place when it was Freddie’s?”

“Yeah. Hung out here quite a bit back in the day. I guess it’s been close to twelve years now since I’ve been back. Yeah, it would have been oh eight. It’s been twenty years since I was here a lot.” I chuckled. “And I mean a lot. Starving bachelor, and Jesus, could Freddie’s wife cook.”

“You look the type. Freddie died in sixteen. His wife went back to New Jersey. Another guy bought it and tried to make it something weird. Nuevo something or other, but it failed. No real food. Just snacks and stuff. Sammy and Janey bought it last year and here we are. They have a guy in the back that could fix up a skunk and some mulch and you’d swear it was steak and mushroom gravy. The guy can cook.”

“Let’s test that theory. I’d like the steak and mushroom gravy here. Broccoli if you have it. Italian on the salad. Sound reasonable?”

“Yes, sir. One...” I interrupted her.

“Charlie. Just Charlie, for now.”

“OK, Charlie. One skunk and mulch platter, with some green stuff on the side, rabbit food with dirty greasy vinegar, coming right up.” Her giggle was mesmerizing. God, was she cute!

As I ate, I saw that she was steering clear of the four, what I would call ‘possible ruffians’, down the bar. She stayed up by me and even asked me questions about where I was from, where I was headed, and whether I had a family. All kinds of things. It must’ve gotten on close to nine-thirty or ten, when a woman entered from the back door, came to sit down on the stool the elf had asked me to vacate, and said elf brought her a drink. Might have been a Tom Collins by the looks of it.

“Janey, this is Charlie. Charlie Adams from Eastern Missouri. He used to work at the cube thing a while back and fancied Freddie’s to be his hangout.”

“Nice to meet you Charlie. Jane Williams. Sammy’s other, and I hope better, half. He’s in Los Angeles at our other place tonight. Bartender problems. I’m lucky to have Sylvia here. No problems at all. She does what she’s told, when she’s told, how she’s told, and for as long as she’s told. No problems. Right, Sylvia?”

“Yes, Aunt Janey. Whatever you say!” They both laughed. “Jane is my mother’s little sister. When Mom died, Jane took me in and has been sort of ... No, not sort of. She’s my mom now.”

“I try. Just don’t give me any bartender problems, or your school money is going for a new bike for yours truly. I want a purple one. Maybe one of those electric plug-in thingies.” More laughter.

“No, Aunt Janey, anything but that!” Inside jokes. They were laughing to beat the band.

“Sylvia is a Godsend. Good help is hard to find. She’s better than most and I trust her. She’s on a profit-sharing plan. As long as I’m making a profit, I share my attic with her. Once a week we let her take a bath in the kitchen in one of those big metal tubs.”

Now they had me laughing. “Would that be on Saturday afternoon, and would anybody mind if I came over for a glass of some sweet tea around that time?” There was three-way laughter now, and the four guys down the bar were NOT impressed.

Janey looked down at them. “How’s it going, guys? Dwayne? Bobby? Sammy’s in L.A. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

The tall one on this end spoke. “Not here to see Sammy, Jane. Came to talk to Syl, but it looks like she’s being kept a bit busy by your new customer down there. How about it, Sylvia? Take a ride with me tonight?”

“Sorry, Dwayne. Not a chance. I’m not interested. I’ve told you that a dozen times. I’m just not interested.”

“How ‘bout me, Syl? We can make happy then Dwayne...” That was the second guy. Jane broke in before he said any more.

“Bobby, shut up. You guys oughta go. Your mouths are getting ready to write checks your asses ain’t gonna be able to cash.”

“Sure, Jane, but you tell that little girl Dwayne wants to be her Sugar Daddy. I’ve got my sights set on her.” That must’ve been Dwayne.

“She makes her own decisions, Dwayne, and I don’t think any of them are going to include you.”

“We’ll see, Jane. We’ll see. I’ll check with Sammy on that and see how he sees it. Brother’s a brother, ya know?”

“Yeah, we’ll see. You guys get out of here. You’re bothering the human population.”

“Sure, Jane. Sure,” Bobby said, and the four of them walked out. Dwayne pitched a C-note up on the bar as they left.

“Creeps. God, Janey, if you didn’t let me keep that gun down here, I’m afraid I’d go back to the attic and just stay there.”

“That doesn’t sound good. What’s the deal there? Those guys seem kind of pushy, if you catch my drift.”

“I do. Sammy used to ride with Bobby and Dwayne. It was long ago in a galaxy far, far, away if you catch MY drift. What do those patches some of them wear say, Syl? Is it ‘A friend will help you move, but a brother will help you move a body’? Something like that, anyway. They think Sammy owes them, I guess. Sammy disagrees, but they come in and cause grief anyway.”

“I thought that stuff was just in the movies and more shady neighborhoods. Hearing that is going on in downtown Santa Clara is a bit odd for me. Sheltered life, I guess.”

“It’s not the norm, Charlie. They aren’t from around here. Neither are we. We came up here from gang country in LA to take care of Little Bit here when her mom died a couple of years ago. Cancer. Fucking cancer. Took our mother, too. Probably going to kill me pretty soon, but I’m fighting it. In any case, if they know Sammy is not around, they come in and talk shit. I had a friend of theirs discreetly let Bobby know that if anything happens in the bar, or to any of us, that we were armed. We’ll see how long that lasts. It’s been OK for the last several months.”

“So, y’all are armed?”

“Sylvia is. She has a permit. Hard to get here, but she pled her case after a problem once, and a judge down south granted it.”

“Good. Just to let you know, I am, too. Don’t want to make a huge deal out of it, but as long as I don’t have too many of those. I pointed at my drink, “I’m legal where I come from.”

“Well, Charlie, don’t try to be a hero. All four of those guys are carrying, only one of them has a permit, and another one of them also has a sawed-off double-barreled coach gun. They don’t play by the rules. Sammy says they never have.”

“Good to know. Is there going to be a problem tonight?”

“Poppy! You think they’ll cause an issue tonight,” she yelled over to the table with the three older guys at it.

The one with the knotted beard shook his head. “I don’t think so. You takin’ the kid home?” Jane nodded. “Nah. You’re all right. I don’t like the way Bobby was looking at your friend there, though. Tell him to keep his head on a swivel. Six is the new twelve, and all that, and yes, I know you’re packin’.”

“You clairvoyant?”

“No, son. Observant. Confidence. There’s something else, too. Be careful with the carefree thing. You do have something to live for, you just don’t know what it is yet. Trust me.” He turned to his friends and, for the most part, ignored the dweeb with the two ladies at the bar. I chuckled. He looked at me and smiled, then ignored us some more.

“I’ve been dressed down a bit, I guess.”

“Schooled. I’ll bet he could tell you who’ll win the 2028 election and 2020’s ain’t come yet. Poppy is not a dummy. Let’s put it that way.”

“Got it. OK, kids, I’m outa here.”

“You comin’ back, Charlie?”

“I might just do that, sweetie. I might just do that. Are you working tomorrow night?” She nodded. “See you then. I’ll try another roadkill recipe and see how it comes out. Skunk and mulch was a winner.” She giggled, Jane not knowing what had transpired yet. She would, soon, I’m sure.

I headed back to the hotel, noticing two bikes following me. I did two separate around the block random turns, both resulting in my tail not falling off. I wasn’t exactly happy about this, but there wasn’t much I could do at this point. At least not until I got to the hotel. I pulled up in front by the main doors and dismounted. Pulling my brain bucket off and setting it on the speedometer, I unzipped my jacket and waited. I counted no fewer than four cameras recording the area in front of the hotel, two of which were pointed at the entry where I was standing. They stopped not ten feet in front of me and the one farthest from me reached into his jacket. He wasn’t fast enough to get it all the way out, and pointed my direction, then when he realized he was looking at his maker down the business end of a .45 automatic, he slowly put his gun back.

“Look, Bobby. It is Bobby, right?” I was talking to the guy closest to me. He nodded. “I don’t know if your friend was going to try to scare me or kill me. Wound me or just break one of these windows. I don’t know. I do know this. I’m not impressed, and I don’t impress easily. Do you have a message for me, or was I just supposed to die because I went into one of my old haunts and had dinner? What’s the deal? The real deal. I don’t trade in bullshit. I want the truth.”

“Sylvia is Dwayne’s. Deal with it.”

“Let me shuffle and re-deal. She says otherwise, and she gets the call. Try this again and you’ll both be dead where you sit. You’ll be dead and your rides will depreciate because of the scratches as you fall and those, well, the one pretty ride hits the ground. Your buddy’s could use some work. Try me to your own peril, guys. And, since you’re delivering messages, tell Dwayne the same thing. You might even tell him this. I don’t know those women from Eve. Just walked in this evening. I’m going back for dinner tomorrow. There. Play that hand. Go away. I’m pretty sure the cops are on the way. I hear sirens.” They left without a word.

I went to the desk. “What’s your privacy policy if anyone asks for someone?”

“We don’t give any information out. We call the guest and pass information, but we don’t release anything. Is there a problem? Were those men harassing you?”

“You didn’t see?” She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I just wanted to make sure. I like your program. As long as it works that way, we’ll be fine. I’m going to leave my bike up there on the sidewalk, so they don’t do anything stupid, and if they do, you’ll have a picture of them. Is that OK?” She nodded. “Thanks.” I went to the room and thought about what just happened. ‘Jesus, I get into some deals, don’t I?’ I asked myself. I answered. ‘Yeah, Charlie, you do. Be careful.’

I didn’t see anyone around in the morning and felt pretty sure there wasn’t anyone trying to tail me, so I took a ride. I’d never ridden over the Golden Gate Bridge. I wanted, after today, to never be able to say that again. So that’s what I did. I had a salad at a cute little bistro in Sausalito, looked at some really nice boats, and a couple of vessels that could be called ships, then crossed over to Oakland and headed back down to Santa Clara. It was a beautiful day for riding, although it was a bit chilly in the morning as I headed up through San Francisco. I had a good time. It was five when I pulled up to Sammy’s. I parked my bike much the same as yesterday. It, and one other, were the only ones there. As I entered, I knew something was wrong and it wasn’t going to be fun that day. Dwayne was in the chair I sat in yesterday. Sylvia was at the other end, washing glasses, and I’m sure, trying to avoid him.

I decided to be a jerk.

“Sylvia, doll, can you call Janey and ask her if I can use her chair for a couple of hours. I’m needing refreshment and sustenance, and it’s the only one with a butt pad on it. My skinny ass needs a bit of extra cushion this afternoon.”

Sylvia giggled and took her phone to the other end of the bar. I watched her talking, then saw her nod a couple of times as she spoke. She pushed on the screen with her thumb and came back to the other end. “Jane said if you break, tear, crack, or otherwise hurt that chair, she’s taking it out of your hide. She claims that chair can’t be replaced. Consider that while you’re choosing seating arrangements, Charlie.”

“Whoa. Excuuuuse me!” I picked her chair up, took it over by the juke box and set it up against and facing the wall. I went to the other side of Dwayne and got the next chair then took it back and put it in Jane’s place. “Two dry bar mops, gorgeous. Please.” Sylvia caught on, but she wasn’t happy about it. I folded them, doubled in a long pad, and sat on them, cushioning my butt bones. “Nice. Crown rocks and a Coors Light, honey? Please?”