was over, the redhead collected the dollar bills that had been thrown
onstage and then flashed a sweet smile before walking off. As soon as she was
gone, Muscle-shirt left his seat and got in the face of the guy who had let his
hand linger. This guy looked like a truck driver. A big burly fellow with thick
ham-hock hands. At first it looked like they were going to get into it, but the
big burly guy lost his nerve. Muscle-shirt had his finger in the guy's face and
you could see the life just go right out of his eyes. All he wanted was to get
the hell out of there. Muscle-shirt jabbed him hard in the chest with his
forefinger and then walked back to his seat, more puffed up than before.
I
had finished my ale and made my way back to the bar to buy another one, but
Earl wouldn't take my money.
'Hey,
man,' he said as he opened up another bottle for me, 'tonight it's on the
house. Consider it a welcome-home party.'
'About
time I had one,' I said. I accepted the ale from him and pointed a thumb at
Muscle-shirt. 'What's the story there? How come you let him get away with that
type of behavior?'
Earl
showed an uneasy smile. 'Well, you know how it is. I like having Susie dance
here. She's a sweet kid and she's nice to look at, you know? Kind of makes me
feel good to have her around. If I throw the Rooster out, I think I'd lose
her.'
'The
Rooster, huh? That's a great name for him.'
'Yeah,
it fits, don't it?' Earl made a face as if he were suffering a bad case of gas.
I probably should have a talk with him.'
I
went back to my table and watched as Earl approached Muscle-shirt. He put a hand
on the guy's shoulder and moved his face so it was inches from Muscle-shirt's
ear. I could tell he didn't like what he was being told. He tried to argue, but
the more he did, the more pressure Earl applied to his shoulder. He seemed to
be struggling to keep himself sitting straight in his chair. After a short
while, Muscle-shirt shut his mouth and nodded, the muscles along his jaw
bulging heavily. Earl forced a handshake out of him and then went back to the
bar, giving me a wink as he went by.
The
next dancer was introduced as Toni. My jaw dropped when I saw her. She couldn't
have been more than five feet tall and was at most ninety pounds, but she was a
knockout. Maybe the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. Long curly black hair,
big brown eyes, and lips that could stop your heart. She wasn't exposing
anything for her first song, wearing a belly shirt, hot pants and high heels.
The Stones.'
‘Angie'
blasted out from the loudspeakers and as she started dancing she caught my eye
and gave me a smile. Her smile did something to me. It made me feel a little
funny inside. I know it sounds ridiculous, reacting that way because a stripper
deemed me worthy of a smile, but that was the effect she had.
I
heard someone call my name. A heavyset man in his late forties had sat down
next to me and was offering me his hand. He looked somewhat familiar but I
couldn't place him.
'Joe?'
he asked again. 'Joe Denton?'
I
shook hands with him, puzzled, trying to figure out why his small bloodshot
eyes and doughy features seemed familiar. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Do I know you?'
'We
know each other. I'm a few years older than you, but I grew up in Bradley. You
were closer in age to my brother, Billy.'
I
could see the resemblance then. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'You're Scott Ferguson.'
'That's
right.'
'You
joined the army or something, didn't you?'
'Yep.
I joined up when I was eighteen. I didn't move back here until two years after
my brother's death.'
We
both sat quietly for a moment and nursed our beers. It was as if everything
around me at that point were a million miles away. The music, the
heart-stopping little dynamo on-stage, the club, everything.
'That's
a shame about what happened to your brother,' I said.
He
nodded in agreement. 'You investigated Billy's murder, didn't you?'
'That's right, I did. That was a while ago,
though.' He sat silently for a
onstage and then flashed a sweet smile before walking off. As soon as she was
gone, Muscle-shirt left his seat and got in the face of the guy who had let his
hand linger. This guy looked like a truck driver. A big burly fellow with thick
ham-hock hands. At first it looked like they were going to get into it, but the
big burly guy lost his nerve. Muscle-shirt had his finger in the guy's face and
you could see the life just go right out of his eyes. All he wanted was to get
the hell out of there. Muscle-shirt jabbed him hard in the chest with his
forefinger and then walked back to his seat, more puffed up than before.
I
had finished my ale and made my way back to the bar to buy another one, but
Earl wouldn't take my money.
'Hey,
man,' he said as he opened up another bottle for me, 'tonight it's on the
house. Consider it a welcome-home party.'
'About
time I had one,' I said. I accepted the ale from him and pointed a thumb at
Muscle-shirt. 'What's the story there? How come you let him get away with that
type of behavior?'
Earl
showed an uneasy smile. 'Well, you know how it is. I like having Susie dance
here. She's a sweet kid and she's nice to look at, you know? Kind of makes me
feel good to have her around. If I throw the Rooster out, I think I'd lose
her.'
'The
Rooster, huh? That's a great name for him.'
'Yeah,
it fits, don't it?' Earl made a face as if he were suffering a bad case of gas.
I probably should have a talk with him.'
I
went back to my table and watched as Earl approached Muscle-shirt. He put a hand
on the guy's shoulder and moved his face so it was inches from Muscle-shirt's
ear. I could tell he didn't like what he was being told. He tried to argue, but
the more he did, the more pressure Earl applied to his shoulder. He seemed to
be struggling to keep himself sitting straight in his chair. After a short
while, Muscle-shirt shut his mouth and nodded, the muscles along his jaw
bulging heavily. Earl forced a handshake out of him and then went back to the
bar, giving me a wink as he went by.
The
next dancer was introduced as Toni. My jaw dropped when I saw her. She couldn't
have been more than five feet tall and was at most ninety pounds, but she was a
knockout. Maybe the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. Long curly black hair,
big brown eyes, and lips that could stop your heart. She wasn't exposing
anything for her first song, wearing a belly shirt, hot pants and high heels.
The Stones.'
‘Angie'
blasted out from the loudspeakers and as she started dancing she caught my eye
and gave me a smile. Her smile did something to me. It made me feel a little
funny inside. I know it sounds ridiculous, reacting that way because a stripper
deemed me worthy of a smile, but that was the effect she had.
I
heard someone call my name. A heavyset man in his late forties had sat down
next to me and was offering me his hand. He looked somewhat familiar but I
couldn't place him.
'Joe?'
he asked again. 'Joe Denton?'
I
shook hands with him, puzzled, trying to figure out why his small bloodshot
eyes and doughy features seemed familiar. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Do I know you?'
'We
know each other. I'm a few years older than you, but I grew up in Bradley. You
were closer in age to my brother, Billy.'
I
could see the resemblance then. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'You're Scott Ferguson.'
'That's
right.'
'You
joined the army or something, didn't you?'
'Yep.
I joined up when I was eighteen. I didn't move back here until two years after
my brother's death.'
We
both sat quietly for a moment and nursed our beers. It was as if everything
around me at that point were a million miles away. The music, the
heart-stopping little dynamo on-stage, the club, everything.
'That's
a shame about what happened to your brother,' I said.
He
nodded in agreement. 'You investigated Billy's murder, didn't you?'
'That's right, I did. That was a while ago,
though.' He sat silently for a
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