Brad Little strode into the bar, boots hitting heavily on the hardwood floor. He was wearing solid fatigue pants and an old Army Ranger t-shirt. Following close behind was Steve Butler in head-to-toe camouflage fatigues. He slipped his cap off when he entered the doorway. Bill: Brad Little! Brad: Bill Strannix, you ol' sonofabitch! Brad and Steve crossed to the bar, where Bill had been leaning casually, talking to Elmore. Brad and Bill shook hands ferociously. Bill: Where's the rest of them boys? Brad: Gettin' their cars parked and unloadin' their gear. Be along in a minute. Bill reached out to shake Steve's hand as well. Bill: Steve, how's life been treatin' ya? Steve: Can't complain. Bill: Oh, you could, but nobody'd listen. Boys, I'd like you to meet Elmore Pratt, the proprietor of this fine establishment. Elmore, this is Steve Butler and Brad Little. Elmore shook hands with them both, immediately noticing Steve's USMC tattoo. Elmore: Hey, I was in the Corps, too! Long time ago. Steve: Well, then it's a pleasure to meet you, son. Elmore: Same here, sir. Bill: Beth, what the hell you doin' down there anyway? Beth's voice came from underneath the bar. Beth: I'm trying to get all these six-packs out of the case. Bill: Well, forget that. Stand up here. I want you to meet some people. Beth stood, slightly annoyed, a six-pack in her hands. She got about as far as Brad's t-shirt when she fumbled the pack and it dropped to the floor. Amazingly, none of the bottles broke. When she bent down to retrieve it, she misjudged her distance from the bar and whacked her forehead on the edge. Beth: Shit! She staggered back, stunned for a second. Bill just rubbed his eyes with his hand. Bill: You 'bout done there, Larry? Beth: Yeah, Moe. Bill: Brad Little, Steve Butler - Beth Franklin. She's . . . Brad gave her a yahoo-good-ol'-boy handshake. Steve wasn't quite so fierce. Brad laughed. Brad: Hell, Bill, I know who Beth is. Y'all . . . Bill: No! Brad: What? Bill: Not anymore. Brad: Oh. Beth: Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some ice. Brad looked at the bruise now forming just over her right eyebrow. Brad: Good idea. That's startin' to swell up. Beth smiled half-heartedly and moved to the end of the bar, busying herself with getting ice out of the bin and wrapping it up into a bar towel. At the front door, more troops were filing in. Thomas Boyette, in his jeans and Chicago Bears sweatshirt, carried a large athletic bag in one hand. He was followed by Johnny Vohden, poured into a t-shirt and khaki pants, holding his duffle bag over his shoulder. And they were trailed by a fellow named Mitch, light windbreaker, jeans, red Converse Chuck Taylor All-Star high-tops. He seemed more restless than the others. Bill: C'mon in, boys! Take a load off! They joined the others at the bar. Bill: Tom, Johnny, Mitch, this here's Elmore Pratt, the fella you came down here to help out. Handshaking all around along with the usual male monosyllabic greetings. Bill: Beth, c'mon down here! Got some more company to meet. Beth, holding the ice pack to her head, walked back to the sound of Bill's voice. When she finally got her eyes to focus, the first body she saw was Johnny Vohden. She stubbed her toe into the six-pack still lying on the floor and would have gone head-first to the floor herself, had Elmore not caught and uprighted her. She hopped up and down, holding the afflicted foot with the hand that wasn't holding the ice pack. Beth: Shit! Elmore: Damn, darlin', you all right? Beth: Never better. She gingerly put weight on her foot again. Bill: Tom, Johnny, Mitch, meet Beth, formerly of the American Ballet Company. Beth shot Bill a look. Bill: She's a friend. Tom: Friend? I thought she was . . . Bill: Not anymore. Tom: Oh. Bill: Where the hell is Hank? Mitch: He's here. Tom: When we got out in the parking lot, Carly took off down the street, and Hank had to chase off after her. Bill: Figures. Well, boys, I appreciate ya comin' down here on such short notice. I'll pay ya back, believe me. Mitch: Hell, Bill, we're always ready to party! Johnny: Just show us where we can crash, and that'll be enough. Bill: Well, we got some cots set up in the back. My girl and a guy named Neville's gone out to stock up on food. We ain't leavin' this building empty for one second. Tom: You think this Cosmo guy's figurin' on hittin' the place? Bill: He's given us reason to believe that. Tom: We can set up a rotating watch, then. Bill: I've got a few more boys to help ya out with that, too. But right now Beth can show you where to throw your stuff down. Beth: What? Bill: You know, that sporadic deafness of yours always did get on my nerves. Beth: Well, why do *I* have to take them to the back? Bill: 'Cause you're standin' there! Beth: So are you! Bill was starting to seethe. Bill: I'm waitin' on Hank Marshall and his wife to show up!! Beth: So? *You* take them to the back, and *I'll* wait for Hank Marshall and his wife to show up! Bill took a deep breath and heaved a long sigh. Bill: Remember back before you got your guard Dawg? You'd piss me off and I'd have to toss you up against a wall to calm myself down? Beth: . . . yeah. Bill: I'm gettin' that urge again. Beth: All right, all right. Beth started to limp towards the door at the far end of the bar. Beth: C'mon, guys. This way. The men fell in behind her. As she pushed through the door heading towards the storage area, she turned to make sure everyone was following. As she disappeared into the back, Bill and Elmore heard a crash and a thud. Beth: Shit! Bill was shaking his head, when Hank and Carly finally entered the bar. Hank was in full dress uniform, while Carly had on a slinky little sundress. Carly: Oh, Daddy, it's so seedy in here. Let's go home. Hank had Carly's arm firmly in his hand as he led her toward the bar. Hank: Come on, Carly, think of it as an adventure. Carly: I don't wanna th . . . Carly caught sight of Bill. Carly: William! She went to him, embraced him, and then pulled away, slipping her hands underneath his leather jacket and stroking his chest. Hank: Carly, stop that! Carly withdrew and folded her arms with a pout. Bill shook Hank's hand. Bill: Hank, how the hell are ya? Hank: Gettin' by, Bill, gettin' by. Bill: Hank, Carly, like you to meet Elmore. Elmore and Hank shook hands, and then Carly slipped in front of her husband and grasped one of Elmore's big hands in between her two. Carly: Hi there, sugar. I am just charmed to meet you. Elmore blushed. Hank: Carly! The pout again as she whipped around to press herself up against Hank, one arm around his neck, her other hand toying with the knot in his tie. Carly: Oh, Daddy, you know how I like to meet new people. Beth came limping from the back, still holding the ice pack to her forehead with one hand. The other hand was now wrapped in a slightly blood-stained rag. Sam was coming out of the office at the same time. Sam: Jesus, baby, what happened to you?! Beth: I don't wanna talk about it. Beth continued behind the bar towards Elmore. Sam, with the aid of one crutch, moved to the group in front of the bar. Bill: Not gonna be much left of you, girl, by the time this is all over. Beth: Shut up. Bill: Hank, Carly, want you to meet Beth. She's . . . Carly: Oh, Bill, we've heard about Beth before. She's your . . . Bill, Elmore, Beth: Not anymore. Carly: Oh. Carly's attention riveted to Sam. She slinked up to him. Carly: Well then, tell me who this delicious creature is. "Beth Franklin" - 1998 Neville and I had finished lugging the last of the grocery sacks into the kitchen. We had laid in staples - pizza and chips, several boxes of Ho-Hos and Twinkies, bags upon bags of cookies above and beyond the ones I was baking every day, milk to go with the cookies. We bought at least fifteen pounds of coffee and as many gallons of ice cream. We already had the beer. The boys planned to eat healthy, after all. Beth was glaring at a ripe looking blonde. Across the room, Eddie appeared to have been hit upside the head. Sam looked hugely uncomfortable, and it didn't appear that anybody was going to rescue him before the blonde ate him alive or Beth exploded. I found a beer, the first of several I would need before I could sleep that night. Deb: What'n hell, Billy? Gerard, you got a growth? Sam shook himself, as though he had been deeply drugged and was just coming to. Deb: Beth...Beth...take him and go sit down. We don't need the walking wounded out here...go. SAM! Strannix, help me out! Billy was grinning at Sam's discomfiture, not paying the slightest bit of attention to anything. I had to slap him on the arm. Billy: G'wan, Beth...take five. Take your Dawg with ya. With Sam gone, the blonde had nobody to pursue...until her eyes lit on Eddie. Even Sam saw the danger here...he got to Eddie first, and sent him off in search of Roy. Deb: You get Charlie Company in here? Billy: They're in the back, stowin' their gear. Deb: We're gonna need 'em just to keep an eye on that blonde. Billy: Whyncha dry up once, punk. That's 'er husband. I noticed Hank Marshall standing nearby. Privately I wondered what the hell was going on there, why such a fine man put up with such a bimbo. Then I swallowed any snarky remarks I might have made. There were those who might have asked Billy the same question. Besides...poor Hank looked so tired, like keeping up with her took all the energy out of him. He wouldn't need criticism on top of it. Deb: Hank...why don't you follow me. I'll show you where you can change into something a little more casual. I was gone for just a few seconds. In that time, Charlie Company assembled in the bar and the front door opened to admit yet another strong back and weak mind. Lugging a seabag and wearing his red shirt and tight black pants, was Bully. Deb: Bully! It's been so long! I threw myself across the bar to Bully and he caught me on the fly, giving my bottom a firm squeeze. Next he kissed me, and rubbed my cheek with his bearded one, daring Billy to do anything more than growl low behind us. Billy probably felt as though he had a reason to be snarly - as Elmore was to Beth, so Bully was to me. But just as Beth was devoted to Sam, so I was totally obsessed with Billy, and as long as there was Billy...Bully hadn't a prayer. Deb: Bully! What're you doing here with the rest of these mugs? Bully: I missed you. Deb: Don't yank my chain. Bully: And I never passed up a good fight in my life. Deb: I'm sure you'll get one or two of those before you get back to the Blackbird. Billy! Look who's here! Billy: I oughta know, seein' as how I called 'im. Glad you could make it, Bully. Bully: Anything for my friends. Billy: Just keep your friends straight. Deb: Billy, Honey...I... Bully: My friends I keep straight. It's my women I get mixed up. Where do I bunk? I pointed in the direction of the back, and dodged away from Billy. I headed for the kitchen, to finish putting away the groceries. And to hide from Billy. TO BE CONTINUED...
This page hosted by
Get your own Free Home Page