“Dang. That sucks. Do you still talk to her?”
“Not unless she's coming through town. She and her husband travel around the US in their big’ol RV now.”
“I’m glad you had those experiences. I’m sure it shaped you into the formidable man you are today.” I say as I push myself off the counter.
“Damn, right.” he says with a laugh and takes another sip from his glass.
The bell chimes again and a couple of Lenard’s buddy’s filter in and take their seats next to him. They chat while I get two more jack and cokes made. At this point I really don’t have to ask, they all drink the same thing, every day. Usually only one or two and then they are out of here by seven. It’s their routine and it’s been the same for years. It will be a cold day in hell when Lenard leaves this earth.
I can’t imagine not being here for that. To morn with the rest of my town. Pretty morbid, I know but it’s one of the things that keeps me here. All the men I have grown up around and looked up to are here, I would disappoint some of them if I suddenly up and left. Generally speaking, people stay where it’s familiar. And if they do leave, they come back to the comfort of this small town.
8
T. SPEAR
Once the guys are set, I turn around to face the back bar and every cabinet is open.
“Haha, real funny, man.” I say in a quieted, mocking way as I look around the bar. Making sure he knows I know it was him. I mean, Lenard and I were the only ones here. I don’t know how else to explain it. Some weird stuff happens when you work at one of the oldest bars in the state. Maybe the cabinets have sunk, and droop forward a little, making it hard to keep the doors shut.
Or maybe, the only person, a cowboy, that died in this building likes to mess with me.
I turn the TV’s on, double check the bathrooms and wipe the bar off one more time. Weekends are super hit or miss here. I can always count on Lenard, though. And I want him to count on me.
Chapter Three
Grayson
THE BANGING ON MY door comes too early the next morning. Last night wasn’t bad. We had a few groups of people come in. I got to close by one am though.
I pick up my phone and see that it’s 9:00 in the morning. I roll over and hope whoever it is goes away. I need more sleep.
*Bang bang bang*
“Alright” I yell, “I’m coming” I huff and sit up. I pull my sweatpants on, throw on a t-shirt and shuffle to the door.
As I open it, I see an angry Ms. Jones holding the local grey striped alley cat who I named Sharkbait.
“Hi, Mrs. Jones. What can I do for you this morning?”
“Your cat was in my flower shop again, chewing on my baby’s breathe.”
“He’s not my cat, Mrs. Jones.” I tell her as he jumps from her arms and runs into my loft.
“Oh really.” Her eyes are wide, and her head cocked.
10
T. SPEAR
“I swear.” I say, holding my hands up in question. “I don’t even know why he likes me.”
“I’ll give you one guess,” she says and points down to the tiny empty can of wet cat food.
“I…umm.” I cross my arms and raise my shoulders. “He likes salmon.”
“I’m sure he was. Now keep him out of my flower shop.” She says with a huff and leaves. I grab the empty can and shut the door behind me.
“Sharkbait. You’re getting me in trouble with the neighbors.” I toss the can into the trash and go to the cupboard to grab another.