Chapter 6

Timmy arrived at Nation's before the rest of the after work crowd. Lisa James, the co-owner, looked up from behind the bar and scowled at him. She didn't like minors in the place, but her husband Brian had put his foot down. The young kids brought in quite a bit of business from the chicken hawks, and they spent a fair amount of their own money in the place as well. It was legal as long as they served 'food, ' and Brian intended on continuing to let them in. The staff just needed to keep an eye on them and make sure the kids didn't get any alcohol. The James couldn't afford to be shut down for serving booze to minors. Lisa complied with Brian's wishes, but she watched the teens like a hawk.

Timmy didn't like Lisa much, and didn't say anything to her, but he was glad she was there for one reason: Lisa and Brian had a great dog, and they sneaked her in whenever they worked, hiding her out back in case of surprise inspections. Timmy slipped into storage area off the kitchen and went to find Brandy, the doberman. Funny, Lisa didn't mind Timmy in this off-limits area as long as he was with Brandy.

Brandy loved Timmy and was happy to see him. He would sit and pet her for hours, talking to her and telling her what a good dog she was. Sometimes the James would let him walk her. Brandy jumped up and wiggled joyfully when Timmy came in. He sat on the floor and began playing with her. Without his noticing, quite a bit of time passed.

Timmy finally heard some voices wafting in from the main part of the bar. He wandered back out and found some of the usual crowd of legal age guys already working on their beers. A couple of them that he knew said hello to Timmy, then resumed talking to two dudes he didn't recognize. He joined the group. The new men were introduced as Benji and Paul. Paul was older, maybe in his thirties or forties, Benji was maybe 25. Paul leered at Timmy, then glanced meaningfully at Benji. Timmy knew he had been ogled, and twitched resentfully.

"Say, I was just telling your buddies here that we had some great sinsemillan, and invited them to get high with us. Wanna come along?" Paul offered.

Timmy was no fool. He might not have liked these guys at the get go, but you don't turn up your nose at good weed.

"Sure, great," he responded.

About five guys including Timmy went out to the infamous dirt parking lot on the side street behind Carrie Nation's. Up behind the cars they couldn't be seen from the road. Benji pulled out a joint, lit it, and passed it around. It was ok weed, certainly not sinsemillan, but passable. It was free, after all.

Paul was a braggart. "Man, I really made a lot of money off this stuff, it paid for my 'Vette. You wanna buy some?"

"How much?" asked Bill, one of the regulars.

"Oh man, I dunno, I really like you, so I'll cut you a deal. How 'bout forty for an ounce baggie?" Paul haggled.

Bill snorted derisively. "Forty? That's twice as much as usual. This ain't no sinsemillan. I'll give you twenty, the going rate."

Paul put on a pained expression. "Aw, I can't do that. I really had a hassle getting this stuff. There were these big black dudes I had to get past, I had to pull my knife on them." He pulled out a strangely shaped blade with a lion on its hilt. "Man, this scared 'em. They had to let me through when they saw this." (Khukuri knives are traditional tools used for working and battle in Nepal. This one was about 8 inches long, had a stacked and polished leather handle, and a gleaming brass lion's head on the end.)

Bill's eyes widened a second, thinking Paul was threatening him. Then he realized Paul was just showing off some more, and he resumed negotiations. Paul replaced the dagger in its leather sheath on his belt. In the end, Paul sold the meagre mary jane at the usual amount, abandoning his original inflated asking price.

Timmy carefully checked out where Paul's knife went. He had never seen anything like it before. He felt a strong urge to possess the blade.

For the most point, Timmy avoided the two groups that hung out at the main bar, the older chicken hawks and the younger adult partying guys, because being there would have exposed him to the scrutiny of Lisa and the other bartenders working the taps. He preferred hustling drinks where he could hide in corners and behind the players in the game room. However, tonight he perched himself on the stool next to Paul right at the main bar.

"Hi, Sugar Plum," Paul gushed, pulling Timmy close. "I was just thinking about you."

"Yeah, right," Timmy grunted to himself. To Paul, he flirted, "Oh? Whyever for?"

"Oooohhh, a cutie, too," grinned Paul. "I was thinking I'd like to spend some time with you, you know, get to know you better. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Why, thank you," flirted Timmy. "Just ginger ale, though, I must keep my wits about me." He batted his eyes.

Paul laughed. "You're such a sexy thing."

Timmy blushed, and wiggled around a little on his stool. "I don't know about that," he cooed.

Paul laughed loudly. "Oh, I just bet you do, Darlin'. I bet you do." He leaned over and quickly kissed Timmy on the lips while brushing his hand rather firmly across Timmy's jeans. He signaled Lisa for the soda.

Timmy did not allow himself to pull away from Paul's touch, although every fiber of his being was screaming for escape. He was a young man with a goal. He forced himself to smile coquettishly at Paul. He sipped the ginger ale when it arrived, and studied Paul over the rim.

Paul was an unattractive man. He had a jowly face and eyes that bulged. His receding forehead was topped with a sparse smattering of frizzled blond kinks. His nose was bulbous and decorated with tiny broken veins under the skin. Sagging, pockmarked cheeks lay next to Paul's bloated lips. None of these features would have turned a thoughtful man off, but they were capped by a thoroughly obnoxious ego that provided the final overbalancing factor that defined Paul's ugliness. He accepted Timmy's attentions as if they were his due.

"I know all you boys are just hot for it," Paul breathed in Timmy's ear, "aren't you?"

"Oh, sure," Timmy simpered, "I like some fun now and again." He wore a sly and cunning look. "For instance, I'd love to get high with you."

"Would you now?" laughed Paul. "No problem, Gorgeous." His hand brushed Timmy's groin again, and his fingers squeezed Timmy's soft penis. "Give me a minute to finish my business, and I'll take you for a ride."

Timmy sat there, trying to look pretty, while Paul chatted up his customer to his left. Money exchanged, smoke handed over, Paul told the fellow to enjoy, and turned back to Timmy.

"Time for us now, Darlin'. I can't wait to get you all alone."

Timmy remembered the fellow that had been with Paul earlier. "Is your pal Benji going with us?"

"Naw," assured Paul. "He found some willing young, ah, girl and took off." He screwed up his face into a look of disgust.

"Paul?" Timmy asked. "Can we take a bottle of Jack Daniels with us?"

"Sure, we can do that. We can have ourselves a good time." Paul called over to Lisa, "One bottle of Jack to go, Honey." The tense moment had passed.

"You know we don't sell bottles," Lisa snapped back from down the bar, irritated. She came over to Paul, wiping the counter in front of him. "You're going to get us in trouble. We're not supposed to sell the whole thing at once." She looked to both sides, then said, "It'll cost ya. Forty dollars, you want Jack Daniels."

Paul pulled out a fat wad of money, and peeled off two twenties, paused, and added another ten. Lisa nodded, grabbed the money and shoved it in her pocket. "Come around by the side door." Pursing her lips and lightly whistling, she finished mopping in front of them, and moved back down the bar, wiping as she went. Reaching the end, she went through the door leading into the kitchen. From there, a door opened onto the side street for deliveries.