I've been tagged.
According to the rules, you're supposed to do a search in your work in
progress for the word "look" and then paste the surrounding paragraph(s)
and tag as many people as possible.
Okay, here goes.Sean O'Connell's life has been great until this year. He has spent his time riding bulls and winning. After the rodeos, the party begins. Life was great until this summer. His winning streak slowed to a crawl. He finds himself without enough money to go to Arizona to the winter rodeos and has to get a real job.
After being on the losing end of a run-in with his brother-in-law, he needs the soothing comfort of a beer and just happens to find the Sugarwater Bar.
********
“You don’t look so good, partner.
Run into a fist?” The old man behind the bar cackled, as he served a beer to
the only other patron, a woman who fit the bar stool like a saddle on a duck.
“Just get me a boilermaker and cut the jokes,” Sean said as he dropped onto a stool and leaned his fore arms
against the bar. He was in no mood to play games.
The bartender drew a beer and
poured the shot. Sean grabbed the whiskey and threw it back. He grimaced then
lifted the mug and sucked down the beer.
“Hit me again,” he growled,
slamming the mug onto the bar and sliding it toward the bartender.
“Looks like you’ve already been
hit.”
The sharp bark of laughter made Sean grind
his teeth. His muddled brain had just enough clarity to know if he wanted
another drink, he’d have to control his temper. “Boilermaker, please.”
“I’ll have to see some cash first,”
the older man said. “You’ve stiffed us before.”
“Not me. I’ve never been here
before. Besides, I always pay my way.” Sean concentrated, trying to get a clear
picture of the old man before him. He couldn’t quite see the bartender, but he
was sure he hadn’t been to this place before.
“Sure you do, sonny, but we run a
cash-up-front system.”
God, he hated to beg, but at this
point, he’d do about anything for another drink. “I’m flat broke, but I get
paid Friday. I’ll bring in the money then if you’ll let me have one more
tonight.” He even sounded pitiful to his
own ears.
Without taking his eyes off Sean,
the bartender called out. “Junior, we have us a moocher here, and it’s time for
him to leave.”
“I’ll pay twice what you charge, if
you’ll run a tab until Friday,” Sean said. “Come on, help me out.” When had he
been reduced to begging? There had been a time when he entered a joint like
this as if he owned it.
A young man the size of Bigfoot
came into the bar from the back room. “Him, Papa?” he said, as he approached.
The bartender looked at Sean and
asked, “You want to leave on your own or have Junior help you?”
Sean would’ve liked to save face
and leave under his own power, but he couldn’t seem to get off the stool. With
resignation, he laid his head on the bar and waited. At least he was drunk
enough that he might not feel the blows until tomorrow.
I'm tagging:
Amity Grays @amitygrays
Dianne Solberg @wxmouse
Kristi Atkinson @kristyatkinson
Penny Watson @PennyRomance
