Caught Stealing - Charlie Huston [35]
—Jesus fucking Christ, Hank, you look like yesterday’s shit on last week’s paper.
When I first came in here looking for a job ten years ago, Lisa was behind the bar. She was about thirty or so back then, six feet tall and built. Just big everywhere. She nailed me about a week or two after I started behind the bar. I never went back for more, but I never had any regrets. She’s a big, happy woman and about the only thing she does that pisses me off is getting shit-faced on the job when I’m working the shift after hers. Trying to pick up the pieces for a drunk-off-her-ass bartender is a pain. She’s sipping on a greyhound right now and I can see trouble ahead for whoever’s on tonight.
It’s just about 4:30, so it’s a light crowd at the bar. Happy hour starts at 5:00, and things will pick up then. For now it’s just a few of Lisa’s hard-core regulars. I don’t know this bunch too well, but Amtrak John and Cokehead Dan are in. Everybody in this fucking place has a nickname.
I plop down on a stool and put my bag on the floor. Lisa comes over and brushes her fingertips across my forehead.
—Oh, Hank! They told me those guys left your pretty face alone. I specifically asked and everybody told me those assholes didn’t touch your pretty face.
—They didn’t, this is brand new.
—New! Oh, shit, Hank, what are you up to? You’re a lover, baby, not a fighter.
—Just lucky this week.
—Well, shit, baby. Let me get you some medicine.
She reaches into the cooler, pulls out a Bud, pops the top and puts it in front of me before I can say no. But I don’t want to say no; I don’t want to say no at all. Lisa raises her glass to me and nods at the beer.
—Drink up, Sailor.
That’s my nickname here, Sailor. Sailor Hank. I don’t know how it got started. Edwin picks your name and it just sticks.
—Drink up.
—Not right now, babe. I really just need to see Edwin, is he around?
She tosses off the rest of her drink and shakes her head.
—Naw, he’s been picking up your shifts till he can find someone he likes. So he’s takin’ a lot of naps to keep up with the hours.
—He’ll be in later?
—Should be, he’s been comin’ in around, say, six or seven to do the cash, gets behind the bar about nine.
Edwin trusts me. It took about a year for me to become his top bartender, we never used the word manager, but at some point, I just started helping with inventory, ordering stock, and training new employees. But with Edwin, trust is a matter of degrees. So my problem right now is that while I’m pretty sure he put the key in the floor safe in the office, I don’t know the fucking combination.
—So you gonna have a drink with me or not?
—Doctors say no, babe.
—No shit?
—No shit.
—Not even beer?
—Not even beer.
—Well, shit on that.
—Shit on that indeed, babe. Shit. On. That.
—Well, you mind if I carry on myself?
—Don’t mind me, babe, it is no longer my problem.
She laughs as she builds another greyhound. She puts it in a beer mug and really lays on the vodka. I’ve got to give it to her, she may end up drunk as a monkey, but it takes her all day to get there. She takes a sip from her glass.
—Aaaaahhh! Still mother’s milk to me, Sailor.
—Well, thank God for that. Look, I’m gonna run out to the store for a few things. Can I grab you anything?
—Yeah, get me a pack of smokes, will ya? Marlboro Lights. The hundreds.
—Yeah, I know.
She tries to hand me a couple bucks for the cigarettes, but I wave her off.
—Just keep an eye on my bag, will ya?
—Sure.
I pass my bag over to her and she tucks it into one of the cupboards behind the bar. I’ve got the cash in my jeans, but everything else is still in there. I head for the door and she cruises back down the bar. I turn to take a quick look at her ass. Time has been kind to Lisa. But then, she really is built for the long haul, not the sprints. The beer is still on the bar where she put it and I just can’t believe this is the second one I’m gonna walk out on today.
—Sailor! Hey, Sailor!
It’s Amtrak, waving to me from down the bar.
—Hey, Sailor, you watchin’ this?
He’s pointing at the