by Casey Elliot
Some stories like the one about Herb’s cat that he had told me at least eight times weren’t worth hearing. Others were. I made a game for myself, trying to guess when a new person walked through the door whether their story would be worth it or not. I only needed one look to know, for certain, that the man walking through my doors had a helluva tale.
He was about six feet tall with tattoos all over his muscled arms. He wore a plain black t-shirt and jeans, and had close cropped brown hair that told me he was a military guy. Good. We didn't get many of them around here.
He sidled up to the bar with a sour expression on his face and dropped down onto one of the wooden stools. I mentally congratulated him on not picking the broken one; also another game I liked to play.
"What can I get you?" I asked.
He stared at me with eyes like an ocean storm. Finally, when he was finished asserting his dominance, he said, "Molson."
So, he wanted to have a conversation in sentences of only one word? Fine with me. I'd cracked tougher nuts.
"Bottle or draught?"
"Draught."
I poured him a pint and slid it across the bar top. He wasn't looking at me anymore — his attention now focused on the hockey game on the TV screen behind my head. I'd give the beer some time to do its work, but I'd be back for his story — if for no other reason than that the man was walking sex.
Gage
I drove down the coast for about an hour, letting the wind do its magic. Nothing cleared my mind better than the breeze in my face and my bike between my legs — not even sex.
There was a biker bar on the outskirts of some town that I didn't bother remembering the name of. I pulled in there because I was done driving. I had gone far enough that I could say I'd actually gone somewhere, but was close enough that I didn't have to actually go anywhere. My plan was to spend the next couple of weeks sleeping, fucking, and drinking... in no particular order.
Sergeant wanted me to have a vacation? This was my Disneyland.
The bar was decorated with biker memorabilia, and had pictures on the walls of various club meetings that had taken place there. There were tables scattered around the floor, but I went straight to the bar. I liked to be close to the action. Not that I was going to be talking to anybody — but; at least, if someone was being a dickhead, I might get to punch someone.
I was surprised to see that the bartender was this pretty little blonde thing. Her skin was sun kissed, but otherwise, untouched. No tattoos; odd thing for a biker bar. As she approached me, I watched her tits jiggle in her tight jeans and t-shirt. Good. I liked a girl with curves.
I ordered a beer, and I could tell she was frustrated with how clipped my sentences were. The girl showed everything on her face. I wondered how she could possibly survive in a place like this with a handicap like that.
I decided I would find out.
"What the hell is a girl like you doing working in a bar like this?" I asked.
Surprise crossed her face. I could tell she tried to keep it down, but it was there for all to see.
"What kind of girl do you think I am, exactly?" Surprise had turned to irritation. She was a fun one to watch.
I gestured over her body. "You look like you'd be better off working in a beauty parlor or something like that."
She rolled her green eyes, running the cloth over the bar top. "I'm going to take that as a compliment."
"It wasn't one."
She chuckled. "You're going to make lots of friends around here," she observed. "I can't wait to see someone knock your lights out."
I took a swig of my beer and grinned. "That's cold, barkeep."
"If you wanted different, you should have gone somewhere else." She shot me a cheeky grin. "Like a beauty parlor or something like that."
Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to judge. Clearly she wasn't completely out of her depth.
"Where are you coming from?" she asked.
"North."
"And where are you headed?"
"South."
She rolled her eyes again, and propped a hand on her hip. I followed the movement with my eyes appreciatively.
"Let me know if you need anything else," she said. Then, she walked down the bar to serve her other customers.
An old man from a few seats down slid down into the seat next to me.
"Hayley's something, isn't she?"
I turned and glared at him. When had it been broadcasted that I was looking for friends?
I decided that rather than starting an argument with a drunken old man, I'd just ignore him instead. I turned back to the TV and drank down my beer. Every once and a while though, I'd sneak a peek at Hayley's delicious figure.
Hayley
The mysterious military guy stayed until closing. He drank quite a bit, but seemed more or less unaffected by the libations. I thought that the booze might loosen up his tongue a little, but all it did was make him moodier. By the end of the night, he was giving off such a "don't fuck with me" vibe that even Herb knew better than to try and approach him.
While I had failed in my quest, and lost a good story, that wasn't the only reason I hoped he would come back. It wasn't like I was going to act on any of the delightful little fantasies I had going on in my head — men were too much trouble — but they sure were fun to think about.
When we were closing up, Tamsy, our Tuesday waitress, asked me if I'd be the one to tell him to leave. He had all but ignored my last call announcement, and apparently, anytime she approached him, he shot her a withering glare.
I often compared Tamsy to the lion from the Wizard of Oz. Tattooed to the nines, dyed black hair, and eyeliner that probably took more than one pencil to apply, she looked every bit as rough as the rest of the bar, until you saw her reacting to a spider or an unruly customer. Somehow, I was always the one who got called over to fix the situation. Spiders were easy. You just got a napkin and brought them outside (they're good for the environment, okay?). Dickheads like our new friend; however, were slightly more of a challenge.
"Time to go, bud," I said.
He was staring down at the beer in his hand. I'd turned off the TV fifteen minutes ago, so he'd have to find some other form of entertainment. Apparently, the carbonation of his beer was even better than sports highlights.
He glanced up at me with a hard look in his eyes, and for a moment — I hate to admit —it actually got to me. He was a man who showed nothing on his face, but every once in a while, you'd see a bit in his eyes. At this point, I almost wished I hadn't. I wanted to go hide in the back with Tamsy and just let him do his thing until he decided to clear out.
But, I wasn't Tamsy. I was the person in charge of spider removal.
"The longer you stay here, the longer it takes for me to get into bed," I said lowly. "And I love my bed."
He grinned then, though the rage in his eyes didn't abate. It was an unnerving combo. "How about we kill two birds with one stone then?" he purred. "Let's just get into bed together."
I couldn't help it. With his strong jaw and searing eyes, my body responded to his offer in a way that I wasn't proud of. My brain was yelling at me to smack him, but other parts of me wanted to lay hands on him in a different way. I took the middle route. "How about you get the hell out of my bar right now or I toss you out myself?"
To his benefit, he didn't sneer about how he'd like to see my try or make some snarky comment relating to my femininity. I think he'd actually had enough.
Wordlessly, he rose from his stool, chugged back the rest of his beer, and sauntered out the door. I tried not to look shocked, but I'd never been particularly good at hiding my emotions.
Gage
The motel across the street from the bar, unsurprisingly, had rooms available. The guy at the front counter had a 70’s pornstache and a serious case of B.O., but he assured me that the rooms were clean and the water was drinkable. When a motel room comes with a caveat like that, you know it must be good.
I headed up to my roo
m and pushed open the door. When I flicked on the lights, I had to wonder if the rooms had at one point been used to film 70’s porn. Maybe that guy had had some sort of epiphany on set and decided that he'd rather run a shitty motel than have sex on film.
Maybe it was just a damned motel and I needed to get some sleep.
I stripped off, turned off the light, and slid under the sheets.
Most people were fussy about the places they laid their heads. A room like this wouldn't rank high on anybody's list of top-sleeping destinations, but I'd been worse. When you're in a tent in the desert, trying to fall asleep when you know that you could be bombed or shot at any minute, a room like this seems like paradise. The only thing that would get me here were some bugs and, as always, myself.
*****
I went back to the bar the next day after grabbing some food in town and taking a cruise around the bay. There wasn't anything more interesting in town, and I was still pretty impressed with the bar's goddess protector, Hayley. I decided that trying to get her in bed would be a much better pastime than looking for sea glass or out-of-state license plates — or whatever the hell people did on vacation. Having never had one, I wasn't sure what the deal was. I would have rather been at work, but orders are orders.
I was glad to see she was working again and, if my eyes didn't deceive me, for about 0.02 seconds, she was glad to see me too.
"You're back," she said, when I sat on the stool across from her.
"I'm thirsty."
She poured me a pint without asking what I wanted, and slid it toward me. It sloshed a little on the hand I had resting on the counter.
"Oops." She didn't look sorry. Those luscious lips were curved up in a wicked smile.
She went back to her work and I watched the sports on TV for a bit. I wasn't all that into football though, so I spent most of the time glancing down to see what she was up to. She commanded the respect of the bar with such assured grace that I was sure that there was an untapped talent underneath those beer-stained clothes.
I mean, there was a lot that I liked to imagine as being under those digs, but I was also sure that she would have felt at ease in a high pressure board room or in a courtroom fighting tooth and claw to keep an innocent man from prison. What in the hell she was doing in the middle of the sticks, serving beer to men like Herb who spilled it as a matter of habit, I wasn't sure.
But, that's not what I was there to find out. I was there to find out what she looked like when she came.
Hayley seemed determined to ignore me, but she was a better bartender than she was a brick wall. I finished my drink and she was there almost right away, asking if I wanted another.
"You look even better today than you did yesterday," I commented, ignoring her question.
She gave me a flat look. "You were drunk yesterday."
"Still remember everything."
"So, you remember being a tremendous ass?"
I winked at her. "There's only one tremendous ass in this bar right now."
She immediately began to flush. The visual was thrilling.
"Do you want another beer or not?" she asked.
What I wanted was to make her so flustered that the only thing she would be able to bring me was home with her. I didn't say that.
"Yes." I looked deep into her green gaze while I said it, willing my licentious thoughts into her head. She stared back at me before flushing again and storming off to fetch my beer. Maybe I would enjoy my vacation after all.
Hayley
God damn it. If he kept giving me eyes like that, I wasn't going to make it through my shift without jumping him. I wondered what the other bar patrons would think if the bartender and one of the customers started fiercely making out on the bar top. I doubt they'd mind. I'm sure worse has happened within these walls.
Still, that wasn't going to be the case. I was here to work; he was here to drink. The only relationship we would be having was me handing him beers and him handing me money.
After pouring a pint for him, I passed it over and turned away before he could say anything else. Men were trouble — no if’s, and’s, or but’s. I'd come to that tough-to-swallow realization when the last man in my life had unceremoniously made the Great Escape. That wouldn't have been too much of a problem in itself — if he hadn't taken off with my savings at the same time.
I was just working here until I got enough money to go back to school, and I tried to keep that in mind during the moments when I felt myself slipping too far into the bartender role. It was like a groove had been hollowed out just for me on the grimy floor behind the counter. If I finished school and wanted to come back, hell that was fine, but I had to keep my eyes on the prize.
No part of my plan involved getting my heartbroken by another sexy asshole with a motorcycle.
The bar steadily became a bit busier over the course of the evening. Wednesday was our music bingo night, and you might not think it, but bikers love music bingo.
I saw a few regulars besides Herb, and greeted them. We didn't really have much in the way of regulars. There were a couple locals who liked to hang out in the bar when it wasn't too busy, but other than that, the people I knew ebbed and flowed with the changing of the seasons, their club's events, and whatever they turned their fancy to at the time.
Tamsy started handing out the bingo cards, and I went along the bar to see who wanted one. Herb always did music bingo, but he only marked down half of the songs that were played. He either didn't know much about music or just didn't care all that much about bingo. When I slid a sheet in front of Sexy Asshole (my new name for him), he simply fixed me with a disbelieving grin.
"You think I want to play music bingo?"
I met his challenging gaze. "Everybody wants to play music bingo."
When the silence lengthened, I went to pull the paper back. His hand shot out and landed on top of mine.
"What do I get if I win?" he asked.
"Depends on the round. Top prize is two hundred and fifty bucks," I replied.
His eyes bore into mine, as he enunciated his next words. "Not good enough."
Call me an idiot, but I liked to play with fire.
"What would tempt you?" I smiled coquettishly.
"You."
I could have sworn you could see my heart pounding in my chest when he said that. All of the sudden, his hand on mine felt like I was dipping my fingers into fire. I smoothed out my expression and answered, "Seems hardly fair to raise the stakes so high without making them equally high for you."
He shrugged. "Fair enough. Name your terms, Hayley."
Having him say my name was like music to my ears. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he won.
"I want to know what's got you so damn pent up," I said. "And, who the hell you are."
He lifted his hand from mine and extended it out. "I'll take a dabber, please."
Our DJ, Stan, began to go into his spiel about how the game was played, what the prizes were, etc., etc., but I barely heard it. I made a show of checking on the other people at the bar to see if they needed anything, but I was really just trying to distract myself from thinking about our little bargain.
Each player had two games, and each game had two chances of winning. There were a couple dozen people in the bar, all playing music bingo.
I didn't know much about odds or statistics, and now, I was wishing I had paid more attention when I took it in freshman year.
Stan started playing the music, and I couldn't help but scan Sexy Asshole's card out of the corner of my eye each time I passed to do my rounds. I did my rounds more than usual.
The first two songs were busts for him, but the third one he had. He looked up and caught me staring when he found it on his sheet, and smiled devilishly as he dabbed the square. I felt a hot shiver run through me. He got a few squares on the first card, but didn't get anywhere close to making a full line. I wasn't sure whether I was relieved or put out.
There was a break between games, and during the
break, he ordered another beer. I tried to act nonchalant as I checked out his card.
"Doesn't look like you're doing so hot, chief," I observed.
He smirked. "It's fine. I'm used to going for a few rounds."
I was pouring his drink at the time and it spilled over. I let go of the tap and sloshed the drink in front of him. He laughed, and it was the first time I'd seen his eyes filled only with humor, and none of the darkness that I was so familiar with.
"Since I lost one game, and don't intend to lose another, I think it's fair that I give you a little something about me," he said.
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"My name. It's Gage."
"Gage," I said. "Nice name."
He gave me a cocky smile. "I'm only telling you because that way, you have something to call out later."
"The only calling out I'll be doing later is on you and your bullshit," I remarked. I headed to the other side of the bar and chatted to a couple regulars there, pretending that I didn't feel that heat of Gage's eyes on my back — pretending that it didn't feel damn good.
Gage
I found Hayley amusing in a way that I hadn't found anything amusing in a long time. Our little game was exactly what I needed and, though I was loathe to admit it, the music bingo wasn't so bad either.
The second game started off with a bang. I got two squares right away, right next to each other. I saw Hayley eyeing my card again, so I took a long drink of my beer and licked my lips. Pink seemed to be becoming her natural shade.
I didn't get the next couple of songs, but that was okay. I made up for it pretty quickly, and I was only two squares away from winning when the first person yelled bingo. Still, I had a pretty good shot. I got the next song, and the next time Hayley came by, she did a double take.
"You're only one away," she stated.
"Yup."
"Huh."
