by Vicky Jones
Cheers sounded as the bus groaned to a halt and one by one the returning heroes gingerly disembarked, in various physical states. The campaign in Korea had ended over three and a half years previously and taken over a hundred and fifty able-bodied men from Riverside, only to return most of them as incomplete, broken shells. Endless redeployment for those not wounded or made prisoners of war had also taken its toll on their morale, but, at long last, they were being discharged and returned to their homes.
Hugs and kisses were exchanged at the bus stop, with children being held aloft by tearful fathers. After a few minutes the crowd began to dissipate, leaving Frank standing on the sidewalk, his expectant smile fading just like his vision of the bus.
“Hey mister, why you sad?” The same little girl from before appeared at Frank’s side. She looked up at him, her innocent blue eyes unblinking.
Through glassy eyes, Frank opened his mouth to respond just as her mother wrenched her away.
“No, Jessie, we don’t talk to criminals,” the little girl’s mother scolded, flashing Frank a disgusted look.
Feeling the judging eyes of the crowd bearing down on him, Frank flung out his boot at the garbage can next to the bus stop, sending its contents flying.
“What the hell you lot starin’ at, huh? You mind your manners,” he snarled, stomping off across the road towards the bar he owned. Seeing his bar manager wiping tables outside, Frank halted.
“Norm! For God’s sake, when are you gon’ get those damn windows cleaned? This place is starting to look like shit. What the hell am I payin’ you for?”
Before Norm could respond, Frank had stormed off.
“Hello, Dr. Adamson’s residence. This is Mrs. Adamson?”
Lucy had picked up and put down the receiver several times. This time, though, she’d finally plucked up enough courage to ask the operator to dial the number she knew by heart. Each unanswered ring gave her another chance to hang up, but at the same moment she was about to do so, a bright feminine voice answered.
Lucy blinked away the tears, squeezing her eyes shut when she heard her mother’s voice. As she ran a pale-skinned hand through her shoulder-length chestnut brown hair, she gritted her teeth, then made herself sound as breezy as she could.
“Hey Mom, it’s Lucy. How are you?”
The voice at the end of the line became animated as Mrs. Adamson gushed with pleasure at hearing her only child’s precious voice. “Oh, my dear, it’s so nice to hear from you. How’s your first week back been?”
Lucy swallowed hard. “Yeah, Mom, everything’s fine. My tutor told me that the local school said they’d love to have me come in to teach a couple of classes this semester to help me with my training.” The story she’d carefully crafted over the last week just seemed to flow out of her effortlessly. Lucy’s eyes, however, were as dull as the ache in her guilty heart. “How’s Daddy?” Lucy continued.
“Oh, he’s fine. Well, he had a patient die on his operating table last week, but he did all he could. You know your father, he’s such a perfectionist. It really hurt him that he couldn’t save that young lady. Apparently, she’d gotten into prostitution, drink and drugs… her heart gave out in the end. He was furious, said it was such a waste of a life. He couldn’t believe how the parents could let that happen to her. He wanted to report them for neglect and, well... Anyway, I don’t wanna dwell on that, honey. Tell me all about what you’ve been up to. When can we come down to visit you?”
Chewing the nail on her index finger, a commotion on the street below caught her attention. As she began making up another reason why ‘now wasn’t a good time’ to have visitors, Lucy pinched open the blinds to see Frank lashing out at anything remotely in his path. Counting his stomps up the fire escape at the side of the bar beneath the apartment, Lucy knew she had to hurry.
“Look, Mom, I gotta go. I’m sorry I can’t talk longer but … um… my… um… study period is over and I gotta go back to class. But… can you ask Daddy if it’s OK for him to put a little bit more money in my checking account this week? I need some more… books and stuff. Please?” She bit down on the corner of her mouth, hating every word she was forcing through it. Her stomach flipped as she heard Frank’s key slide into the lock, his keychain clanking against the wooden door.
“Of course, honey, I’ll ask him to do it this evening on his way home from the hospital. But I wish you would just let him send you a check, it’s much easier for us. We know the college’s address but we really need to know what dormitory you’re in so it gets to you OK. Or maybe instead we could bring it when we visit—”
“Sorry, Mom, I gotta go. Tell Daddy thank you for the money. I love you, Mom.”
Lucy hung up the phone halfway through her mother’s goodbye and just as the door swung open. Frank stood there, his face like thunder, the creases on his contorted face glistening with sweat.
“Who was that?” he asked, catching Lucy’s hand moving off the receiver.
“Just my mom. Dad’s good for the money, he’ll put it in my account tonight. I didn’t want her to hear your voice and start asking questions,” she replied, sweeping a strand of hair off her damp brow. “It’ll help us, right?”
Frank nodded and walked over to the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of beer.
“Was he not there again?” Lucy asked, her soft voice normally enough to calm Frank when he was riled. “Oh honey, I’m sure he’s just been delayed or something. He’ll be waiting on his papers, that’s all. You just gotta be patient. He’ll be on the next bus, I just know it.” She slunk over and wrapped her arms around his waist but, in no mood to be soothed, Frank twisted himself away from her arms, the stubborn cap on his bottle tipping his frustration over the edge.
“What the goddamn hell do you know about it, huh? You ain’t got no right to promise me anythin’, the amount of lies you told this week just ‘cos you don’t feel like goin’ to college.”
“Frank, why would you say that to me? I only wanna make you feel better.”
“Well, you know what’d make me feel better? You gettin’ off your ass and ready for work tonight. Clearly you ain’t thinkin’ of goin’ into college today, you been sittin’ around this place all mornin’. You wanna do somethin’ useful, you can help me out again tonight. This ain’t no hotel I’m runnin’, you know.”
“But Frank, I don’t feel so good. My head hurts and I’ve been feeling dizzy all morning. What did you make me take last night?” Lucy mumbled, reaching for the glass of water she’d left on the sideboard.
“Nothin’ much, just somethin’ to help you relax. Gary’s a good customer, but he wasn’t happy with the one-way conversation he was havin’ with you at the bar last night. He expects better from my servers, so you need to loosen up, girl.” Frank walked over to her and took the glass out of her shaking hands. Placing it back on the sideboard, he pressed his face into hers. “Look, when I met you at that bus station all those months ago, lookin’ all lost and alone, I offered you a place to stay and now I ask you to help me now and again in the bar you start losin’ your head. You got to get your shit together with the customers and start helpin’ me bring some money in.” He paused to take a long slurp of his beer.
“I’m sorry, Frank. I’ll try harder, I promise,” Lucy sobbed.
“And another thing, you not goin’ to college at all was not part of the deal either, Lucy. How long do you think you’re gonna get away with it for? I know you hate it there, but you gotta go in at least a few days a week.” He pinched her chin and pressed his face into hers. “That college ain’t stupid, they’re gonna start askin’ questions and then they’ll ring your father. Do you want him to stop your allowance? Because he will. You need to keep things sweet with them, honey. We need that money, otherwise we’re both screwed. You promised me before Christmas that you’d help. All I’m askin’ is you paint a smile on that pretty lil’ face when you’re servin’ the drinks and maybe do a little dance for the guys every now and again. It’s not too much to as
k, is it, honey? You’re my savior, you know that. I can’t lose that bar, Lucy. It’s all I got.” Frank’s dark eyes blazed with raw emotion.
“I know, Frank. I’ll go tomorrow. I’m just so tired after working late last night,” Lucy murmured.
“Well, you see that you do. Otherwise that college’ll be rattin’ on you to your parents before you can spit. And I don’t need anybody snoopin’ round here asking questions either.” Frank drained his bottle and slammed it down on the coffee table, then slumped into his armchair. Rubbing his eyes, he looked up at Lucy who was now leaning against the mantelpiece sobbing. Sighing, he beckoned her over and sat her on his lap. “Honey, don’t cry. I’m sorry I upset you. You know I hate the idea of you schmoozin’ those guys across the bar, but it keeps ‘em comin’ back in. We both gotta do what we gotta do. It won’t be long now and if we work hard enough, we’ll make Chasers the best this town’s ever seen it. I’m gonna make my father proud of me, I swear it. You believe me, right?”
Lucy sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Of course I do.”
“Good. Now go get ready. Show me how beautiful you look in that red dress I got you.”
Lucy left Frank slouched in his armchair, his red-rimmed eyes fixed on the framed picture of a black-haired young boy, no more than eight years old, sitting on the shoulders of a smiling man in uniform that was taking pride of place on the dusty mantelpiece.
To everyone else in Riverside, apart from Frank, Chasers had become the seediest joint in town in the five years since he’d inherited it from his grandfather. The Christmas festivities had filled the register with dollar bills, but Frank had emptied it just as quickly hoping that one night at the poker table his luck would change.
It hadn’t. Not once for the last three games since New Year’s that he’d played. And lost. Now time was running out.
In one of the windows that faced the street, a huge bright pink neon sign spelled out its name. Inside, the mahogany wood of the bar top was mottled, with sticky wet mats draped over it and a bored looking bartender standing behind it, cleaning glasses with a grubby tea towel. After a couple of wipes, he held a glass up to the light to see if he had gotten most of the stains and lipstick off. He placed the towel it on the shelf below the bar just as Frank swaggered through the entrance.
“Whiskey. Neat.”
Norm hesitated for a moment too long, before the wrath of Frank came his way for the second time that day. Draping his tea towel over his shoulder, he grunted, then reached behind him for a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured his boss the drink. As Norm went to take the bottle back, Frank gripped his hand.
“Leave it… You ain’t been in charge here for the last five years, Norm, so come down off your high horse there.” He smirked as the bartender released his grip on the bottle. “I own everythin’ behind that bar anyway.” Frank turned to walk away, the bottle tucked under his arm. Seating himself in a booth in the corner, he spotted Chuck at the other end of the bar, holding a tray balancing four bottles of beer on it. With a sense of dread, he watched Chuck make his way to his table of friends, the bottles wobbling precariously. Three steps from reaching the table safely, Chuck’s hands twitched, sending the bottles crashing over each other on the tray and spilling the amber liquid all over his friends at the table.
“For fuck’s sake, Chuck, I just had these shoes shined,” one friend exclaimed as he scrabbled his hands across the soaking tray to salvage what he could from the half-empty bottles.
“Sorry, guys, I’ll send some more over,” Chuck assured, putting down the tray and gesturing over to Norm. Walking over to Frank’s booth, Chuck’s shoulders dropped. He slumped down in his seat, hardly able to look his best friend in the eye. “I’m sorry, Frank, I’m such a klutz.”
“I saw, Chuck. God damn. What the hell am I gon’ do with you, huh? You’re as useless as tits on a boarhog. I gave you a job behind the bar ‘cos no one else in this town’ll hire you, but you can’t add up for shit. Then we try you out as a server and look what happens.” He shook his head in dismay. “And people in this town still ask why the military wouldn’t let you enlist either. That damn brain damage of yours alone would be enough of a reason. Why, I wouldn’t trust you with a squirt gun now.”
“I’m sorry, boss,” Chuck said, his dirty fingernail gouging lumps out of the cardboard coaster on Frank’s table. “I ain’t been right since that day at the grocery store.” Chuck held one hand out to show Frank. “See? Can’t keep the damn thing still anymore.”
Seeing his friend’s contrition, Frank softened. “Well, you were never gon’ be no brain surgeon now, were you?” Frank said, half smiling. “And anyways, why you draggin’ all that up again? I wanna forget that now. Ain’t it enough that this damn town won’t let us forget what we did? It was almost ten goddamn years ago. I’ve taken their shit for long enough and so have you.”
Chuck watched as Frank poured a shot for them both. “It’s not as if we killed the guy now, was it? He gave as good as he got, waving that damn bat around like Mickey Mantle. He socked me a good’un,” Chuck said, rubbing the jagged scar running across the top of his skull, very much noticeable these days on his bald head.
“Yeah, well, Jake has always been one to hold a grudge.” Sensing his oldest friend’s discomfort, Frank slapped him on his broad shoulder. “Don’t worry, once my father gets back we’ll clean up around here. He’ll know what to do to make this place the best damn joint for miles. I got big plans for this place and together we’re gon’ rule this town. Ain’t nobody gon’ stand in our way this time.” Frank grinned as he swigged another shot and scanned the crowded bar.
“And I’m gonna be your deputy, yessir,” Chuck whooped, banging his bear-like fist into the table and almost sending Frank’s bottle flying. Grabbing it, Frank flashed him an exasperated grin.
“If we can find you a job you can’t possibly fuck up. But I guess even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and again. First, we gotta think up some ideas of bringin’ more money into this place. I want my father to be proud of what I’ve built up while he’s been gone. The man’s a goddamn hero, it’s the least I can do.” Frank’s smile faded to a look of determination. He sipped his next shot much slower this time.
“Well, the girls are all ready for tonight’s show.” Chuck pointed over to the door to the side of the bar that led backstage.
“Lucy here?” Frank asked, his eyes drilling holes in Chuck’s pudgy red face.
“Yeah.”
“She look good?”
“Oh yeah,” Chuck replied, a thin trickle of spit rolling out of his open mouth. His eyes glazed over for a moment as he pictured her, until Frank punched him hard on the arm to snap him out of it. As he did so, the boisterous crowd hurried to take their seats to watch the show. A hush fell across the room as the red spotlights flicked on and all eyes turned towards the stage.
The clicking of stiletto heels on the stripped wood floorboards caught everyone’s attention as the silence became gasps of anticipation. Behind the bar, Norm reached his hand up to the main light switch and flicked it down completely. A long shadow then fell across the jukebox in the far corner, the room now only lit by one overhead red spotlight.
Lucy leaned forward against the jukebox, both palms pressed against its yellow frame, seductively mulling over which song to play. But it was all part of the act; she knew exactly which song she wanted.
With all eyes completely hypnotized by her presence, she dropped in a dime and punched in the number, her long red nail keeping the button from connecting flush with her fingertip. As Dinah Washington’s smooth seductive voice filled the air, Lucy’s body swayed gently, then, as she found her rhythm, her shiny red lips began mouthing the words to Big Long Slidin’ Thing. After thirty seconds or so, she turned to face her audience who were all seated around tables that were cluttering up the dancefloor. Frank liked to pack them in on nights she was performing.
Catching the eye of a middle-aged businessman loose
ly holding a dollar bill, Lucy sashayed her way through the tables, then, almost reaching her target, cocked her eyes to the left to Frank who nodded his encouragement, his keen eyes also drifting over that dollar. Chuck wiped the drool escaping the corner of his mouth.
Leaning back in his booth, Frank fixed his stare back onto Lucy, who was still miming along to the song and dancing slowly around the businessman. Damn, she’s good at this, he thought, his arms draped over the back of the booth as he blew his cheeks out in awe of her performance. Chuck leaned forward, his hands below the table.
As Lucy was reaching the end of her performance, she began emphasizing the sexier words to the businessman who couldn’t take his eyes off her for the whole duration. The innuendo contained within the lyrics wasn’t lost on him one bit. Transfixed, he reached into his pocket and pulled out another dollar bill, then looked over to Frank, clearly wanting more for his money. Frank grinned and nodded again to Lucy who then slipped the front zipper on her dress down to show the merest glance of her cleavage.
As the song built to its crescendo, she leaned forward, now only a foot away from the businessman, then inch by inch pulled her zipper down further. Licking his lips, he took out another dollar bill, to the increasingly loud cheers from his party. When the song finally ended, she placed one stilettoed foot on the arm of the man’s seat and hitched up her sequined dress to reveal a scarlet-edged lacy garter. Hooking her long finger underneath it, she lifted it away from her silky-smooth skin, leaving just enough of a gap for him to slide the money in there. He did so without hesitation but lingered his hand there just a moment too long. Stroking her inside leg, he grinned at her then over at Frank, who raised his glass to agree the deal. Lucy lowered her leg back to the sticky bar floor and strode away as confidently as she’d entered.