croaked annoyingly.
“Yeah,” said Geoffrey, leaning forward over
the bar. “You can shut your fuckin’ mouth unless I ask you for
somethin’.”
The old man’s jaw dropped and the twinkle in
his eyes disappeared. His expression reflected an amalgamation of
emotions; of confused dumbfounded hurt. He wordlessly tossed the
white towel over his shoulder and ambled away, a slight limp in his
gait as he moved towards the opposite end of the bar.
“You can get me some pretzels though,”
Geoffrey shouted at his back.
The old man stopped and slowly turned to
face him. Geoffrey jangled the ice in his empty glass in the air
with a shit-eating grin. “And get me another scotch.”
Geoffrey chuckled to himself and pulled his
cell phone from his coat pocket. A new text message from Ben was
waiting for him.
Running late, Charlotte and I will be there
in a few.
Prick , thought Geoffrey.
Ben wasn’t so much his friend as he was his
guardian. He had worked for Geoffrey’s father, the former prominent
district judge, for several years. The Judge had retired from the
bench years ago, and now ran his own defense firm downtown, with
Geoffrey as one of his fifteen attorneys.
Ben fulfilled any number of roles and
responsibilities for the Judge; essentially whatever the Judge
asked him to do, he did. And from time to time that included
babysitting – making sure the Judge’s brash, reckless son kept out
of trouble and away from the headlines that might be an
embarrassment to the Winters’ name.
The old man returned with a dish of pretzels
and a full glass of scotch.
“Will there be any…anything else sir?”
Geoffrey tossed a handful of pretzels into
his mouth and held up his index finger. The old man waited
patiently while Geoffrey finished chewing and then chased the
pretzels with a deep pull from the glass of scotch.
“Why do you work here?” said Geoffrey, the
same shit-eating grin filling his face. “I mean, look around this
place. Everyone in here is under the age of forty. And you’re what
– a hundred?”
The old man looked despondently down at his
feet. “Seventy two,” he muttered softly.
“Seventy two?” laughed Geoffrey. “You don’t
look a day under ninety! Hell old timer, you’ve spent too much time
tending bar. Cigarette smoke, the booze, the late hours – I guess
it can really wear a man down, huh?”
“I…I just started working here a month ago.
I never…this is my first barkeep job.”
“Making friends as usual?” a woman’s voice
broke in from behind him. Charlotte flopped her purse on the
countertop and took a seat on the barstool next to him. She was
Ben’s recently announced fiancée and everyone in the firm had
celebrated the announcement - led most enthusiastically by the
Judge himself.
She was gorgeous; her golden locks cascaded
down her neck and ended just below the shoulder blades. She wore a
white blouse that was cut just low enough to give Geoffrey a tease
of her cleavage, and her grey pencil skirt and high-heels screamed
“dirty school girl” in Geoffrey’s sex-starved mind.
“Well, don’t you look the slut?” said
Geoffrey enthusiastically. He eyeballed her from top to bottom,
stopping revoltingly at all the good parts. Charlotte rolled her
eyes and scoffed.
“Don’t get any ideas. You’re repulsive.”
“You say I’m repulsive because you don’t
want to be attracted to me but deep down you just can’t help
yourself,” said Geoffrey, his hot scotch-drenched breath on her
shoulder. “I’m the bad boy with the Devil’s tongue your mama warned
you about. Except I’m a bad boy with more money and power than the
Devil himself. And that scares you. Yet, at the same time it
mesmerizes you. Doesn’t it?”
Charlotte stared emptily at him for a moment
and reached for his glass. She downed his remaining scotch, set the
glass back on the counter, and leaned towards him. Her eyes burned
with an intense loathing as she leaned
“Yeah,” said Geoffrey, leaning forward over
the bar. “You can shut your fuckin’ mouth unless I ask you for
somethin’.”
The old man’s jaw dropped and the twinkle in
his eyes disappeared. His expression reflected an amalgamation of
emotions; of confused dumbfounded hurt. He wordlessly tossed the
white towel over his shoulder and ambled away, a slight limp in his
gait as he moved towards the opposite end of the bar.
“You can get me some pretzels though,”
Geoffrey shouted at his back.
The old man stopped and slowly turned to
face him. Geoffrey jangled the ice in his empty glass in the air
with a shit-eating grin. “And get me another scotch.”
Geoffrey chuckled to himself and pulled his
cell phone from his coat pocket. A new text message from Ben was
waiting for him.
Running late, Charlotte and I will be there
in a few.
Prick , thought Geoffrey.
Ben wasn’t so much his friend as he was his
guardian. He had worked for Geoffrey’s father, the former prominent
district judge, for several years. The Judge had retired from the
bench years ago, and now ran his own defense firm downtown, with
Geoffrey as one of his fifteen attorneys.
Ben fulfilled any number of roles and
responsibilities for the Judge; essentially whatever the Judge
asked him to do, he did. And from time to time that included
babysitting – making sure the Judge’s brash, reckless son kept out
of trouble and away from the headlines that might be an
embarrassment to the Winters’ name.
The old man returned with a dish of pretzels
and a full glass of scotch.
“Will there be any…anything else sir?”
Geoffrey tossed a handful of pretzels into
his mouth and held up his index finger. The old man waited
patiently while Geoffrey finished chewing and then chased the
pretzels with a deep pull from the glass of scotch.
“Why do you work here?” said Geoffrey, the
same shit-eating grin filling his face. “I mean, look around this
place. Everyone in here is under the age of forty. And you’re what
– a hundred?”
The old man looked despondently down at his
feet. “Seventy two,” he muttered softly.
“Seventy two?” laughed Geoffrey. “You don’t
look a day under ninety! Hell old timer, you’ve spent too much time
tending bar. Cigarette smoke, the booze, the late hours – I guess
it can really wear a man down, huh?”
“I…I just started working here a month ago.
I never…this is my first barkeep job.”
“Making friends as usual?” a woman’s voice
broke in from behind him. Charlotte flopped her purse on the
countertop and took a seat on the barstool next to him. She was
Ben’s recently announced fiancée and everyone in the firm had
celebrated the announcement - led most enthusiastically by the
Judge himself.
She was gorgeous; her golden locks cascaded
down her neck and ended just below the shoulder blades. She wore a
white blouse that was cut just low enough to give Geoffrey a tease
of her cleavage, and her grey pencil skirt and high-heels screamed
“dirty school girl” in Geoffrey’s sex-starved mind.
“Well, don’t you look the slut?” said
Geoffrey enthusiastically. He eyeballed her from top to bottom,
stopping revoltingly at all the good parts. Charlotte rolled her
eyes and scoffed.
“Don’t get any ideas. You’re repulsive.”
“You say I’m repulsive because you don’t
want to be attracted to me but deep down you just can’t help
yourself,” said Geoffrey, his hot scotch-drenched breath on her
shoulder. “I’m the bad boy with the Devil’s tongue your mama warned
you about. Except I’m a bad boy with more money and power than the
Devil himself. And that scares you. Yet, at the same time it
mesmerizes you. Doesn’t it?”
Charlotte stared emptily at him for a moment
and reached for his glass. She downed his remaining scotch, set the
glass back on the counter, and leaned towards him. Her eyes burned
with an intense loathing as she leaned
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