Taytro's Noir

We rolled up to the shiny brick dive in the big brown cruiser, slammed its doors and marched ourselves right in to the joint. We stopped at the front, tried to look mean, dangerous, because that’s all this crazy world respects.

The young vixen eyed us, glanced over at the tables, then back at us. In that short span she’d weighed the odds, figured the chances and made up her mind, a real pro.

“Three?” She asked with a soft voice and a mild accent that pegged her as being brought up in some backwater village that only recently discovered the joys of indoor plumbing.  At least  she had a brain inside her, she could count.

“Three.” Angel answered; I’d dodged that chore once again. Angel’s prettier than me, more friendly than me and I use her as our mouthpiece whenever I can. Less hassle, less violence that way.

The girl tried to sit us right at the door. It was all I could do to keep myself from throttling her to a pulp right then and there. “That’s right cupcake, put us by the swinging door, grimy strangers bumping over us, everybody and their aunt squeezing around us! Sure, put us there ‘cause it’s three and a half feet closer to your station than the dozen or so empty tables by the window! Great thinking! Great customer skills there Lazy Nancy!”

Angel beat me to it though. “Could we have a table away from the door please?” She cooed. Angel coos a lot, it’s part of the reason this lousy lug fell over himself, ass over hat,  in love with her all those years ago. She’s got the girly charm, the velvet voice, the soft eyes that belie the tough, twisted nut she really is. I’m all up front, right there on main street. People run away just catching sight of me.

The girl got wise, probably sensed me seething and fuming. “Sure.” Was all she could manage to say. Then she pointed at a better spot. “Good girl!” I thought. “Thanks.” Angel cooed. Adam followed, we did the dance, them looking to see which chair I picked. They know I have to watch the joint, the comings and goings, so I get first pick of the seat. Like good little lackeys they plopped down in turn, with quiet respect and deserved awe.

Another girl, also a local, crept up to us with a fistful of menus. She didn’t waste any time, this gal. Good for her, I didn’t need any nonsense this foul night.

I needed a beer, the gal must have seen it in my eyes and she stood up to the challenge. Nothing sparkly and clear for me, I needed it dark and strong. “Sam Adams Spring Ale?" She played. I nodded, that would do swell. Angel and the boy wimped out and screamed for Cokes, regular for the lad, diet for the lady.

The girl slapped down the menus then took her leave.

We looked through them even though we didn’t really need to. We picked this joint because we wanted a Louisiana po’ boy and this is the only place standing in the county that can take a simple concept like that and make it halfway edible. Shrimp, catfish, didn’t matter, pick your meat and stuff your gut.

The boy asked his mama about an appetizer. Sounded too frilly for me, I didn’t need my appetite teased, I needed a sandwich. Angel’s a soft touch though, much softer than me. I was ready to kick his ass to the parking lot just for opening his yap, but she turned on that charm of hers and colluded with the boy. By the time the dust settled on that hairy debate they’d agreed to the chicken tenders. They’re made like the wings, just without the bones. I didn’t care, not my thing. I’d try one just to shut them up, but I wouldn’t like it much, I’d already decided.

The girl came slinking back with our drinks, the beer looked cold and drippy. She sat it on the paper coaster in front of me, snapping her hand away before I could slap it.

I spat out my food order, barely containing the raging harshness I held in me. Once again, Angel softened the air up and ordered like there was no screaming, no blood on the near horizon. She’s somehow immune to the furious storms I see, plays like she’s not even aware of the twitching, rusty edge all around us. She can play the crowd like she’s all ice cream and cake when I know they’re all just drooling and snapping for the chance to whip and stab us as soon as I let my guard down.

The beer was cold, damned cold, as cold as an ex-wife.  It hit my throat like a glacier on a camp fire, shaved off some of the rasp, and hit my belly soft as a pillow. My ragged brain took hold of the alcohol and pleasured itself for a second or two of calm. A dangerous thing, beer. Makes a man think everything is hunky-dory, especially when it ain’t. This is why booze causes so many marriages, even a big thug can go all weak and stupid with this stuff sloshing around in him.

We had to wait for the tenders, this did not settle well with me. All I could do was sit and stare out the window at the local fuzz messing with a man for having too cool a ride to be allowed to be left alone. Cops gotta mess with the boys, they’ve just gotta. Makes up for their own puniness I suspect.

By the time, and it seemed like hours, the girl came back with the teaser, I’d already considered busting up the joint. I’m not a patient fella, and when I’m all ready for something and it ain’t coming around, then I’m liable to go Viking and tear a place down. I can sit and wait at home, or in a pretty park, or in a john boat with trout swarming beneath me. I go to eating places to eat, not stare out the window and listen to some brat at the next table spit and scream.

Angel and our boy tore into the little brown chunks, I took one and pretended to like it. It wasn’t awful, I was just too fired up and ready to leap to be cheated by something less than what I came here for.

More waiting. The beer was half gone, my noggin starting to seriously fog, and the big girl behind the bar was starting to look prettier by the minute. She wasn’t homely when I was sober but here I was with an early buzz and she got downright appealing. Her hair, raven black and the bangs cut short above her soft round face made me think of Betty Page, but then, lots of things make me think of Betty Page. A timeless classic, ahead of her time. Willing to put it all out there for people to point at and sweat about and still grin and giggle like a school girl when the fat checks poured in. No dummy, Betty Page, smart, real smart. Too bad she went nuts.

The big girl behind the bar was chuckling up the stoolies, talking a bit too loud for my liking after a while. I thought maybe she needed a big lug to step up, take hold of that silly apron and yell down at her face to shut up for a few lousy minutes. I woulda’ done it myself, but Angel doesn’t take kindly to me when I sometimes do what should be done. She likes us to sit and be quiet, which is tough for me with so much stupid noise coming from all angles.
A couple came in and pretended to be harmless. I was on to them from the get-go. They were up to something savage, I could tell by the way they didn’t slam the doors on their late model Taurus when they pulled up. The woman made a phone call on her portable, probably checking in with the lookouts I couldn’t see. They were a clever pair. Looking at them, an ignorant civilian would just think they were a grey-haired man and wife out for a good meal. I felt it in my gut though, as sure as I feel the festering boil on my butt, they were here to stir up some mayhem. I was torn between letting it happen and putting an end to it right then and there. They wouldn’t see me coming, I’d hit them like a spring storm and shred them to nubs before they had a chance to sip those fruity drinks in front of them. I’d leave a pile of mush on the floor and then go back to my table and order some sweet dessert. I decided to let them simmer in their own evil for a while, let them lead this early part of the dance, see what played out. I had enough moves in me, all planned out, to stop the impending madness before John Q. Public got much more than a bloody nose. They must have been on to me though, they played it cool the whole time. I’d shut this carnage down without lifting a finger. Wimps. I was ready to play, they just got scared.

I was about to put my fist through the window when the girl finally brought me my sandwich. I was tempted to pinch her on the tail to show my appreciation, but she slithered away too quick. Her loss. There was a pile of shrimp, some greens and some pale tomatoes. Then there was the sauce. I’d had it before, and liked it plenty, even though I’m pretty sure they hired someone special just to spit in mine, or rub it in the floor first. People treat me that way all the time, I’m pretty sure. It just makes me tougher, meaner, scarier though. That’s the secret. There’s plenty of bums out there that want to put you down, they want to make their mark. The only way to squash it is to soak up what they toss at you and wear it like a pretty bonnet. They’ve got no play after that craziness, the smart ones will leave you alone and live another day.

The first bite hit me like a brand new day. The flavors jumped out like the different color crayons in a new box. The bread was thick, maybe too thick, but it didn’t really mess up the meal. The fries were spicy, a little, hardly enough to knock over a real man though. It takes a big bit more than a limp-wristed dollop of citrus-chipotle-mayo to put me on my beefy keester.
I choked it all down in just a few bites, the beer was nearly at room temperature but it was strong enough still to wash it all down. It would have to do, any more than one beer makes me nuts, crazy, loony-tunes nuts. Ask anyone.

The deal came to over forty smackers, robbery. Back in the day a man could buy a house for forty bucks, not anymore. Now, with all those commies in congress, a man has to work two or three weeks just to come up with a c-note. But I paid, because that’s what a guy is supposed to do in these lilly-livered enlightened times.
We  took our leave, I gave the sneaky couple a glance just to let them know they'd been made.  The server girls cheered up and called out their thanks, still naively unaware how close we'd all come to bloody carnage. We'd be back, even as dangerous as this place was, we'd be back. The big brown cruiser found it's purchase in the asphalt and we jumped out onto the highway. One more stop before we headed back to the bunker. Blockbuster. Sometimes even a tough, grizzly guy like me just needs to chill out with a heartwarming chick-flick. Yeah, I'm sensitive like that.


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