A short while later Cook and Parker came back in, walked across to the far side of the dance floor and then up the steps to the second level, heads upright, shoulders square.
Couple of squared-away guys.
Frank watched them slide down to the far end of the service bar on the right side of the upper tier and take a seat on either side of an unaccompanied female. The boys acting like they thought no one could see them. Girl had dark hair and hoop earrings and was cute.
Possibly of Mexican heritage, Frank thought.
He watched Parker say something to the girl while Cook grinned wide on her right.
In his years behind the bar, Frank was always protective of a woman alone. You didn’t get many unaccompanied women at the Metro, a few a year maybe, and when you did, they were rarely a looker like the babe on the screen.
But shit, you still had to look after them. Too many predators lingering in the American night.
A woman alone was vulnerable.
And a target.
For guys like Clayton and Bryce.
Shit.
Frank saw them turning on the charm, watched the girl laughing, matching them shot for shot, flirting.
Seemed like she was holding her own but Frank couldn’t help but wish for the young lady’s friends and companions to show up.
If she had any.
Which she didn’t seem to.
Yeah, Frank had a good idea what was going on up there and he didn’t like it one bit.
Then he saw Larry’s black-and-white image coming up behind him on a screen. Frank swung around on the barstool as Richards wedged in next to him.
Frank said, “Your boys happy now that they’ve got their blow?”
“I don’t know if they’re ever happy, per se. But at least they’ll be off my ass for a while.”
“What’s the matter, Larry? You’re not pursuing the ladies tonight. Lady killer Richards off his game?”
“Bad choice of words, Frank, bad choice of words. I just got some bad news. Really bad news.”
“On the radio in the car?”
“No, from fuckin’ Clayton. We’re out in the Lincoln and I put some lines out on the visor mirror and Clay snorts his and then he casually says there’s something he forgot to tell me. Goes on to say that before he left Denver there was a story going around about Arturo Reynold’s wife being found dead in an alley in the Mexican section of Denver, her tits cut off, eyes cut out and her snatch filled up with cement.”
Larry’s eyes were dead.
“Jesus Christ, man. Was he serious or just fuckin’ with you? Doubt they’d put that kind of graphic information on TV.”
“Serious as cancer, Frank. Clayton probably heard the street version of the story, had to be all over Denver. But those two don’t know I was involved with Katrina;so don’t say anything. They don’t need to know about it.”
“My lips are sealed, but goddamnit, man, that’s fuckin’ crazy.”
“Asshole cut her beautiful breasts off, Frank. Filled her sweet pussy with cement. Makes me fuckin’ sick.”
“Can’t blame you, Larry. Definitely takes the shine off the evening, to say the least. Think Reynolds’ll go down for it?”
“I’m sure he has an airtight alibi.”
Frank didn’t know what else to say. Part of him felt sorry for Larry. But he couldn’t help but think, That’s the kind of shit that happens when you fuck around with a gangster’s woman.
Larry probably knew that already.
Larry caught the eye of the bartender, ordered another double Jack and stared down at the black bar top.
“Your buds from Rancho Deluxe don’t seem overly affected by the news,” Frank said. “Or affected by it at all, really. I’ve been watching them on television.” Pointing up at the screen. “Looks like they’re really working that girl, giving her the double team.”
Larry looked up at the TV, Bryce and Clayton and the girl on display. They were all laughing, highly animated. “Those two can be very persuasive when they put their minds to it,” Larry said. “They, ah, shall we say, have created some amazing situations in the past. Women seem to respond to those two quite favorably.”
“Respond quite favorably? What exactly does that mean?”
“Well, the women they hook up with often become generous with the sexual favors. Face it, Frank, chicks dig coke and money. And those two usually have plenty of both.”
“You talking about professional ladies?”
“On occasion. But the amateurs have also put on some shows. One time Bryce brought out a video camera—and the chicks were cranked up to perform, let me tell you. Something about seeing yourself on screen, y’know… They were—”
“I’ve heard enough,” Frank said.
He looked up at the screen and watched Bryce move his head in close to the girl’s. Saw him put his hand on her shoulder and begin saying something in her ear.
Whispering sweet nothings….
Then he saw Cook drop something into the lady’s drink while Parker held her attention.
“Did you see that, Larry?” Frank said, anger surging through him like hot battery acid.
But Larry was staring into the crowd on the dance floor, searching for something he couldn’t find if it was dropped in front of him. “What?” he said, above the din of the band now hitting the crescendo of “Gold Dust Woman.”
“Your good friend Clayton just dropped something into the girl’s drink. Now I can see why those two are so persuasive.”
Richards turned back to the screens. “Probably just one of my diet pills to keep the young lady from getting too drunk. Clayton can be generous. I bet she asked for it.”
“That why did he put it in her drink when she wasn’t looking?”
“I’m sure it’s harmless, Frank. You need to relax, man. Would Kerouac raise a stink about something like that? I think not.”
“Fuck Kerouac. And fuck you too.” Looking back at the screen, Frank watched Parker and Cook and the girl get up from the service bar and walk away together.
“You see,” Richards said. “They’re going out to the car to snort some blow. Friendly, happy—you can see it on the screen. Young people full of life enjoying the fruits of American prosperity.”
“Give me a fuckin’ break, Larry.” You and your friends are douchebags, he was thinking, but didn’t say. He gave Larry a long, pointed look and then thought, Fuck it, I’ll just have to wait these guys out. Stay close and see what happens.
And a shot of mescal always makes the waiting go easier.
He beckoned to the bartender.
(End of Chapter 25)
Fall Ebook Special $2.99 (through November!)
PAPERBACK + EBOOK AVAILABLE
Bookshop.org: https://bit.ly/3XG682t
Barnes and Noble: https://bit.ly/3sBA5SZ
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3DEFkYz
https://books2read.com/u/mlEM1B
SEE ALL T.K. O’NEILL’S BOOKS HERE: https://bluestonesblog.com/
To contact Bluestone Press or T.K. O’Neill, email bluestonepress@outlook.com or call 218.724.5806
Bluestone's Blog 
Leave a comment