Written for OLWG# 265
I was wet and cold when I spotted an illuminated sign that I hoped might signal some respite from the weather. “Maja” was spelt out in round, red coloured individual bulbs. I pulled my coat a little tighter and picked up my pace.
I had no idea what a Maja was, but as I came closer, I saw neon beer signs in the front windows, and I thanked the Lord for small favours. A bar was just what I needed.
I pushed in on the heavy oak front door and stepped from the rain into the welcoming gloom of the anonymous speakeasy. The Big Bopper was belting out Chantilly Lace from the box. I stood still and waited for my eyes to adjust to the light before taking off my wet jacket and weaving my way to the bar, watched over by a painfully skinny girl wearing tight jeans and a pink tank top. Straight shoulder-length blond hair fell from beneath a well-worn straw cowboy hat. She nodded her head to acknowledge my presence. I sat near the end and waited as she laughed with a beer-bellied patron, proud of his belt buckle.
Silently, a red-headed, lollipop-shaped girl slid next to me at the bar and put her hand on my shoulder.
“Buy me a drink?” She whispered in my ear, “just a Cuba Libre, nothing expensive.”
It was about that time that the barkeep showed up, “Get lost, Sam,” she said to the redhead, who frowned and skulked back into the shadows. I watched her fade away, then returned my attention to the bartender. She was watching me, waiting for me to speak.
“Shot and a beer,” I ordered. She slid away.
The redhead re-materialized next to my elbow while the bartender was gone. Glancing furtively down the bar, watching for the nurse, she startled me when she asked again, “Did you order that drink?”
I spun my head quickly and startled her, “Piss off, Sam.” I growled in a pseudo impersonation of my bartender, who returned with my order just seconds later with my drink.
“You gotta watch Samantha,” she instructed. “She’s a bad apple.”
“Ah, that’s OK,” I replied as I dropped a couple of bills on the bar. Then I held out a twenty, “Take five from this for yourself and give Sam Cuba Libres until this runs out.” I pointed to the money on the bar and added, “Keep mine coming ‘till that runs out.”
She smiled, spun around, and went to work.
This week’s prompts were:
- mended, broken
- I’m not here to meet nice people
- I’ve been good
Good one!!
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Takes all kinds. Sometime respite comes in strange ways.
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