Читать книгу A Hell of a Woman - Ron Boone's Hummer - Страница 3

From the outside, Grizzlies was a large, chromium plated tavern with a green canopy roof that had a head of a Grizzly bear on the sign that said Grizzlies. Located near the docks off Interstate 95 in Allentown, Pennsylvania, cars could only park in the dirt since no spots were formally marked.

At night, the lot is bathed from headlights from cars looking to park anywhere, a bouncer standing at the foot of the stairs checking ID as people piled inside. Behind the windows are people sitting at the bar, the music loud, men and women either at a booth having dinner or shooting pool at the 8 pool tables in the back.

Sunday night was a slow night as Mike Devlin stared at the half-empty tavern, watched as the raven-haired bartender put ice in his glass, drenched it in Jack Daniels and Coke, then passed it back to Mike. He reached for the drink, put it to his lips, taking a long sip before putting the glass back on the bar. Then he closed his eyes, took in the music of Commander Cody’s Beat Me Daddy Eight To The Bar.

“You know,” he said to the bartender, “I’ve been out with some crazy women in my time. One time” - he coughed into his hand - “I went out with this girl. I thought we had a really good time. So at the end of the date, I asked her if she wanted to see me again. And you know what she says?”

“What’s that?” the bartender asked.

“I’ll keep you in suspense.”

“Okay,” he said.

“So I call her in a few days and we talk for a few minutes. I asked her if she wanted to see me. Again, she says I’ll keep you in suspense.”

“Sounds like she’s doing that,” a man with brown shaggy hair said from 3 stools down.

“So, after a few days, I get home. There’s a message on my machine. I play it. It’s her. She says okay Mike, I won’t keep you in suspense anymore. I don’t want to go out with you. It was nice meeting you. Then she hung up.”

“Not very nice,” said a heavy-set blonde that sat on his left.

“Another time,” Mike said, taking out his wallet from his back pocket, putting a $5 on the table, letting the bartender scoop it up, “I was supposed to go out with this girl on Valentines Day. I go to the flower shop, pick up some flowers.” He took a sip of his drink, drained it. “Weather was really bad. It’s a snowstorm. But she’s really good looking so I don’t care. So I head out. Traffic is going at a slow pace but I keep going. I’m watching the clock. I’m almost there.” He moves his arms as if he’s running from his chair. “I’m 10 minutes late. I figure I’ll call her and she’ll understand. So I call her and she’s pissed.”

“Why?” the bartender wanted to know.

“She said I should have called her earlier. She couldn’t believe that I was late. I said, hey, there’s a snowstorm outside.”

“Pretty pathetic,” the blonde haired woman said.

“Yeah. So she says my friends are here. I thought that we could double date. I really can’t believe you’re so late. You should have called me earlier to tell me this. I said I’m doing my best. I’ll be there soon. So you know what she says?”

“What?” the bartender replied.

“Let’s forget it. I don’t want to see you anymore. She hung up on me.”

“Real bitch,” the bartender said. “Should have gone there and thrown the flowers on her porch.”

“Oh, that was nothing compared to this. I was out with this blonde at the Seaport in Boston. She was pissed at me because I didn’t see her right away. Kept complaining all the way to dinner in the cab.” Here, he lowered his voice. “I can’t believe you didn’t see me. I can’t believe you didn’t see me.”

Devlin took a $10 bill from his wallet, put in on the bar. The bartender picked up the $10 bill, shuffled back to the register. “Anyway, we go to Grogan’s. You know, the quarterback from the Patriots.”

“We’re Eagles fans,” a voice behind him in the next stool said.

“Hey, I never liked the Patriots,” Mike said.

“So you’re a Giants fan?”

He turned to the voice, looked at the bald-headed man with tattoos of snakes on his head, sitting a few feet behind him at a table.

“I like the Eagles also.”

“Cool.”

Mike turned back to the bartender who returned with five crumpled dollar bills and quarters, along with another Jack and Coke. Devlin left two 2 crumpled bills on the table, taking the other 3 and quarters. “Anyway, we get there and she orders a lobster. $75. Guess it was on purpose because I didn’t recognize her.”

“Should have just left her there,” another man in front of him said, his dark hair falling over his shoulders. Devlin turned. heard the balls clack away on the pool table on his right. A man with an au lait complexion looked up while a burly red-headed man shot the 2 ball in the corner pocket.

“I know. But I let it go on. By the end of dinner, she was plastered, had about 5 screwdrivers.”

“Sounds like somebody’s getting some tonight,” a man with a brown beard and dark-rimmed glasses said.

“Don’t think I didn’t think about that.” He took a sip of his drink, looked at the bartender over the rim, then put it back on the bar. “So we’re walking along and she sees a full moon and you know what she does?”

“What?” the man with the brown shaggy hair asks.

“She starts howling.”

Everyone in the bar starts laughing.

“Yeah, can you believe that? She says she’s a really sick person. And she starts howling. Then she spills her screwdriver all over the floor.”

“So, what happened next?” the man with the brown beard asked.

“Well, she starts coming on to me.”

“Oh yeah,” the bartender said.

“Truth is, I’m really turned off. I just want to get the hell out of there.”

“I would have tapped that,” the bald-headed man said.

“I was done. So I just glared at here and she says okay. She’s really mad at me. Can you believe that?” He chewed on his lower lip. “She says no she yells now I’m going to the ladies room and then you’re going to take me home. Then she goes upstairs.”

“So you left?” a blond haired man asked from 5 stools away.

“Yep. I did. Got in a cab and was home after midnight. Fast asleep until the phone rings at 2:00 in the morning.” He took a sip of his drink. “I answer it and she’s on the phone. She calls me an asshole and a son of a bitch several times before hanging up.”

“Unbelievable,” the bartender said.

“Yep. But that’s still not as bad as this woman I’m seeing now. Gets me to come to these places to meet her and she stands me up. Calls me later and says she’s sorry.”

“Why do you go out with her then?” a woman with coppery hair asked.

“She’s younger than me. Really hot. At least I had sex with her...”

“You know, the red headed man said from the pool table, I have had just about enough of your pathetic stories. How about shutting up already.” He shot the 9 ball in the right hand corner pocket.

Devlin glared at the man with the red hair, took another sip of his drink, drained it before putting it back on the bar. “Well excuse me.”

The red headed man slammed his pool cue on the table, slapping the other balls around. He was taller than Devlin, his body built like a football player, his face had a small beard that circled around his mouth. “You need to leave now.”

Devlin’s mouth formed the letter “o” on his lips. “Who are you, the owner?”

“Just listen to the man,” the bartender pleaded.

Devlin got off his stool, returned the man’s stare. “No.”

The red headed man swung a right, hitting Devlin in the stomach. As Devlin fell to his knees, the man hit him with a right to his nose. Blood spurted from Devlin’s nose as he fell to the ground.

“I’ll take care of him Kenny,” a bouncer with red hair said from the door.

“Good. You do that, Wes.”

Wes helped Devlin up, then walked him to the door. The music of Panama Red from Riders of the Purple Sage faded. “Consider yourself lucky,” Wes said as he opened the door, then threw Devlin out into the rain.

Devlin got up, felt the rain hit him on his face, saw dirt on his hands. “That’s just great. This is the first time I get thrown out of a bar. All on a count of that bitch. She can go to hell.”

Devlin walked over to his navy blue Buick, opened his door and fell into the seat. The rain sounded like pebbles hitting his window as he closed the door. He felt the vibration from his cellphone in his shirt pocket. He grabbed the phone, saw that it was a message from her, shook his head. He put the phone to his ear after hitting the ok button and listened to the message.

“Hi, it’s me, Kimmy. I really wasn’t feeling well and I just woke up. I overslept. God, you must hate me.” She giggled. “I worked late last night and I guess I was more tired than I thought.” More giggling. “Look, let’s get together on Saturday at Grizzlies. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’m really sorry.”

“Bitch,” Mike muttered. “Fat chance. I don’t care if you come over again and we have sex. We’re done.” He felt the blood trickle on his mouth from his nose. “Lucky if my nose isn’t broken.” He put the key to the engine, started the car, then put his wipers on. He listened to his tires screech in the dirt as he turned left onto to Burrow Street towards Interstate 95.

Mike’s thoughts turned to when he first met Kim Hunter while he was on line at Dominos Pizza. She said that she was hiding out from her boyfriend. They were on a date at a movie and he got into a fight because he thought some guy was looking at her and he didn’t like it. He could understand that. His excitement only increased when he sat with her and she told him that she preferred older men because they were more mature.

He turned on to the Interstate, feeling the buzz from the four jack and coke’s after he waited over an hour for her to arrive at Grizzlies. He looked at the dashboard and saw that it was 10:45.

The rain seemed to let up and there wasn’t much traffic, only a red Monza and a blue Toyota in front of him. He watched as a burned cigarette was thrown from the window of the Toyota.

Suddenly he heard the roar of an engine and someone hit him in the back of his car. The jolt drove him forward and he said “What the hell.”

He felt the jolt again as the car hit him again in the back, the sickening thud of metal hitting metal. Mike put his foot to the accelerator, sped up, looked at his mirror. The driver shined his brights, making it impossible to see as the other car picked up speed and pulled into the center lane.

Mike yelled “What the hell is the matter with you?” as the driver slammed into the side of his car. He gripped his wheel tighter, his tires screeched.

He looked ahead, saw the green sign that said Fox Chase, 4 miles. The car slammed into him again, trapping him against the gray railing. Sparks flew from the side of his car, his tires screeched again.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he yelled as the rail gave way. The car flew in the air, hitting the ditch head first, then the car overturned before catching fire and exploding.