Chapter 12
BARON CLOSED HISeyes and inwardly groaned.
He reopened his eyes and kept his hands clasped around his cocktail. It was his—well, he couldn’t remember how many he’d had. The previous ones had felt great going down, though.
This one was even better.
And thentheyhad come along to spoil it.
“You that dude John Baron, ain’t you?”
Baron looked over at the three young men who were standing next to his seat at the bar.
The young female bartender nervously wiped out a glass and watched the confrontation.
Baron lifted the glass to his lips, took a sip, and let the smooth scotch cut by soda work its way down his throat. He set the glass down and said, “I am.Is there an issue?”
The men were dressed in dirty jeans, T-shirts, and oversized sneakers with no laces, and two of them wore Pittsburgh Steelers caps.
The first man, the largest of the trio, grinned maliciously. “An issue? Man, we ain’t got issues. But maybe you got some stuff hanging over you.”
“Such as?”
“Your damn family screwing this whole town.”
“And exactly how did they do that?”
“Closed the mines. Shut down the mills.”
“After running them for decades and providing employment for much of the town? Probably for your parents. And grandparents. And great-grandparents.” He took another sip of his drink. “Thus I see no evidence that wescrewedanybody.”
“You ain’t give me no job,” said the man.
“I didn’t know it was my job to give you a job,” replied Baron.
The second man spoke up. “You live up in that big house on the hill. Think you’re better’n we are.”
“I can assure you that not only do I not think I’m better than anyone, Iknowthat I’m not. As for the big house, looks can definitely be deceiving.”
“My mom says you got old coins and jewels up there.She said you just pretend to be poor.”
Baron turned to look at him. “Pretendto be poor? Who the hell would do that? Would you?” He looked at the other two men. “Or you?”
“Mom says you folks are inbred. Marry your sister and stuff. Screws up your mind. So maybe youwouldpretend to be poor.”
“Well, I don’t have a sister. And I’m not married. And I’m not pretendingto be poor. So strike three and you’re out.”
“Don’t think so,” said the first man. He shoved Baron so hard he nearly toppled from his stool.
The bartender said, “Hey, don’t make me call the cops. Leave him alone.”
“You gonna let a girl fight your battles?” said the second man in a sneering tone.
“I’m warning you,” said the bartender, her hand on her cellphone.
The man pushed Baron again. “You gonna do that? Hide behind a girl, asshole?”
Baron threw the rest of his drink in the man’s face.