Clad in jeans and dark leather jackets, we each take a seat at the high counter and order beers. I barely sip from mine since I’m the one with the car key in my pocket. All we need to do is hang around, immerse ourselves into the local flora, and let the fauna come to us.
We watch the rerun of a game on the large LCD screen mounted just above the bar. I reacquaint myself with the smell of stale booze and open bags of peanuts and chips. It reminds me of much younger days, when we roamed free throughout the city, wide eyed and bold, reckless and dangerously curious.
Before long, the bartender notices I haven’t touched my drink. He scowls at me through a pair of milky blue eyes. “Something wrong with our house beer, buddy?”
“No, I’m the designated driver. I’m just being responsible,” I reply.
He looks at my brothers with a suspicious frown. “You’re not from around here.”
“No, sir, we’re not,” Cole replies.
“I could tell. You’re all so clean.”
“Clean?” Toby sounds confused. He thought he’d blend in easier on account of his thicker beard and tattoos.
I glance around and take in the details, realizing that our new friend is right. We’re men with a mission and a purpose. The others in here—they look worn out, careless, tired and eager to drown their sorrows in alcohol. The stubbles and the scruffy beards aren’t intentional. Their shirts are stained or crumpled or both. Their body language exudes self-abandonment and self-pity.
We shine like fucking diamonds in this place, even when we’re trying not to stand out. I know there’s a joke in there, somewhere.
“We’re looking for work,” Toby says. “Our boss laid us off recently.”
“Recently, for sure,” the bartender quips. “Recently, like an hour ago?”
“What’s wrong with being proactive?” I ask. “I don’t enjoy being poor, so why let that happen if I can land a job or a gig anywherein town?”
He gives me a wry smile. “I like your spirit.”
“What’s your name?” Cole asks him.
“Randall.”
“Randall, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Cole replies and offers to shake his hand.
Randall shakes it, then offers to refill his glass. “Want another?”
“Might as well. So, do you know anyone around here who’s looking to hire?”
“Not off the top of my head, but if you come in later tonight, there are a couple of managers from up the block who like to wet their whistles here on the weekend. We’ve got a live game on TV at eight.”
Looking around again, I realize that Randall is sharper than we gave him credit for. He took a run at us for being “cleaner” than his other patrons, but he’s quite the bright spot himself.
“You must make a lot in tips here,” I say to him.
He puts on a cool grin. “Maybe.”
“What’s your secret? Come on, share with the class.”
“I take side jobs on my days off. Nothing fancy, just stuff that needs to get done for folks who can afford it.”
I lean in closer. “What if I were to find myself in need of stuff that needs to get done?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you can afford it.” Randall chuckles dryly.
Cole follows my gaze, then nods once and takes out a wad of cash. He places it on the counter right under Randall’s nose, and the man’s eyes widen in surprise.
