Chapter 8: Part 8: Passing The Bar

A shower of grit and gravel rained over me as I lay in a puddle of piss (mine or someone elses, it was hard to say).

I could tell from the smell that they dropped me back in the alley where they picked me up. Funny bastards.

I sat up and watched the rear of the car disappear out the alley, through a haze of dust I wasn't sure wasn't the result of brain damage.

Something was stabbing me in the back. I reached around and pulled it out. The pistol Book had tried to hand me.

I pushed myself to my feet and opened one of the dumpsters. I was about the toss the piece but decided against it. He'd given it to me for a reason and I'm sure I'd find out why soon enough.

I tucked it into the back of my trousers again, and as respectfully as I could, chucked up my guts.

I left the alley and made my way down the street, holding on to every lampost, car, and mailbox on the way. I'd been kicked about a good bit and could tell from the stares that I looked as good as I felt. There was no doubt about it, I needed to go to the hospital. Thankfully, I found the next best thing.

"Jesus Christ, Jerk, you look like shit."

"You should see the other guy", I said as I took a stool by the bar.

"The usual?" He moved to the liquor bottles without waiting for a reply.

"Make it a double", I said. "It's a medical emergency."

Harry's Bar was a bonafide cesspool. The clientele consisted mostly of drunks and those who were looking to hit rock bottom.

Naturally, it made it the default watering hole for the less desirable elements of the city's literati.

On the positive side, the drinks were cheap and the women cheaper.

But it was still early, so most of them either hadn't gotten up, or else they hadn't gone to sleep yet. Either way, this was not the place they spent their mornings.

Harry placed the glass of whisky in front of me, and the fumes made my nose burn like I'd been snorting paint thinner. If it burns, that means it's working.

I downed the drink in two gulps and banged the glass on the bar.

"Another?"

I nodded as best I could and soon was staring at a refilled glass.

I took a sip and looked at myself in the bar mirror. I looked like shit.

I gingerly got up off the stool and made my way to the gents, where I pissed enough blood to keep The Red Cross stocked for months.

I washed my hands and face and got most of the blood off, but there was no doubting my nose was broken. Oh well, wasn't the first time.

I went back to the bar and retook my seat.

"Hey, you."

I turned just in time to see her hop up on the stool next to me.

Hey, Chloe." She was one of the regulars working here, and I don't mean behind the bar.

"Jesus, you look like shit," she said.

"So I've been told." I took a drink.

"You going to buy a lady a drink?"

"If I see one, I'll consider it."

"Hey", she said and punched me in the arm. I tried to conceal the pain that rippled through me, but I couldn't have done that good of a job. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"That's fine, I got a repeat prescription." I finished my drink and waved the glass in the air for a refill.

"And whatever she's having", I said, indicating to Chloe.

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"You got it", said Harry as he went to get the order.

"So, what happened?" She asked.

That's a good question, and one I didn't have an answer to. Sure, I owed The Bookie money. Seven large, at last count, but with interest, it may as well have been seven million.

But if it was about the money, then I wouldn't be sitting here, certainly not in one piece, which I was, technically speaking.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out."

She looked at me and laughed. Whenever you said something she didn't understand she would laugh like it was the funniest joke she'd ever heard. With anyone else, it would have been insufferable, but with her it was alright.

"Let me take a look at you", she said as she gently directed my face in her direction.

She wasn't much to look at, but she had that vibe that meant you didn't care. How she had managed to maintain that in her line of work, I couldn't imagine. Or perhaps it was an affectation put on only during work hours. I instantly dismissed that thought as too depressing to bear.

Her touch was gentle, caring.

"You got beat pretty good".

"You should see the other guy." This time, no laugh.

"Oh, you poor thing..." Her hand gently caressed my cheek. It was overly intimate and anyone watching would think we were star-crossed lovers. I thought what life would be like if we left the city together and found someplace new to start agai--

"MOTHERFUCKER!" I yelled.

"There we go", she said, clapping. "Good as new."

"Fuck. At least give me some warning next time." She'd snapped my nose back into place without the slightest hint.

"It's the fear of pain that hurts the most."

"Tell that to my fucking nose."

I inhaled deeply and my mouth filled with dried blood and crushed cartilage. I thought about spitting it onto the floor, but even in this sawdust-covered dive that would be a step too far. Besides I was in the presence of, if not a lady, at least Chloe, so I swallowed it down.

"Much better", said Harry as he placed the drinks down and admired my nose job. "She's got the magic touch."

Chloe giggled and wiggled her fingers in the air, but I didn't find it funny.

"What's the matter?" She said.

"Just the nose", I lied.

She leaned in and whispered in my ear,

"Want to pop out back and make you feel better?"

"I feel plenty good here", I said and took a good drink.

"It was gonna be on the house, on account of you being banged up and all."

"Thanks, but I don't need charity." I finished my drink and got up.

"Leaving so soon?" She seemed disappointed, but I figured that had less to do with me than the other options provided by the current clientele.

"Got work to do", I said and dropped some cash on the bar. "Harry, get her another one."

"Coming right up", he said.

I left the bar, making sure I wasn't being followed and turned into the alley behind the pub.

I waited for a moment until I was sure I was alone, and with thoughts of Chloe running through my mind, jerked it for all I was worth.

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