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Posts Tagged ‘pulp ficition’

 

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It was a game Frank played, trying to stay ahead of the crowd. Tonight he was losing. People were still coming in the door and the place was standing room only. Fucking Sackberger. Wouldn’t be too big a surprise if the asshole himself showed up here before close, blind drunk and oblivious, Sack was known for shit like that.

Prick pulls that tonight I’m going over the bar after him, Frank said to himself.

The old round clock on the wall was showing eleven o’clock when Frank saw Danny Moran coming in. Frank got a Bud from the cooler and put it in on the bar as Danny threaded through the two-deep horde. “Good man, Franko,” Moran said, bellying up. “And what the hell are you doing back there? Thought you were getting too old for this Friday shit.” Gesturing at the surging throng.

“I am, Danny, no doubt about it. But Sack is AWOL and who else is Betty gonna get if it ain’t good ol’ reliable Frank Ford?” Frank glanced at all the hands clutching bills stretching out toward him and shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“I hear you, Frank,” Moran said. “And sorry about Ray, man. That’s a shame.” Moran slid a five-dollar bill next to the sweating beer bottle.

“Thanks, Danny, it’s been a real cluster fuck. Cops asking questions, my mom going nuts, all the relatives asking me what happened—like I’m supposed to know everything about Ray, even though I kept as far away from him as I possibly could. It’s a goddamn pain in the ass; let me tell you. Working this place tonight is just not in my comfort zone.”

“I hear that, Frank. Need any help? Been a while since I’ve been behind a bar but I ‘magine it comes back quick.”

“How’d you like to drink free tonight, Danny?” Frank said, pushing the five back at Moran. “I need someone to wash glasses.”

“You got it, Franko.”

Frank scanned the pulsing mob shouting drink orders and waving money, wondered what would happen if he just turned and walked the hell out. Maybe cause a riot. And poor old Betty would feel even more let down than before. So he bit the bullet and started down the line.

With Moran washing glasses and filling beer orders, things moved along pretty good. Even Jenny got in the act, mixing the occasional whiskey-seven or whiskey-water, anything easy. Around midnight things started to slow down a bit. The horny were heading to the downstairs lounge for live music, dancing and bad pick-up lines, while the light hitters headed for home and the pensioners nursed their drinks hoping the money would last until close.

Frank and Moran were busy stacking glasses when Frank saw Judy Bruton coming in with an older, gray-haired guy at her side, the man dressed about two levels higher that anyone else in the place. Checking the man out, Frank was pretty sure it was the same guy he saw beating on Ray last fall. And Judy was looking foxy in a black sleeveless blouse and black stretch pants so tight if she sat on a dime she’d know if it were heads or tails.

(To be continued)

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