by Rusty Ellis
The bartender finished pouring the beer and set it down in front of Chase. He took the money and made change at the register and placed the balance on the counter next to Chase’s beer. Chase took his first swig and pushed the bills apart with his finger. He looked at his change; $17. At $3 a beer, no wonder the polo guys frequented the place. Chase slid two dollars toward the bartender as a tip. He knew the standard $1 per drink was acceptable, but he intended on bumping up the amount a tad to unknowingly enlist the bartender’s help.
24
Henry gathered everything he needed and piled it on the kitchen counter. He wanted to get an early start and didn’t want to take time searching for something last minute, a pet peeve of his, and an amusing form of free entertainment for Arvilla. Getting mad and storming about had only encouraged her to laugh louder and louder. Her laughter would fuel his frustration even more, until finally flopping down in his chair and giving up.
He would then watch painstakingly as Arvilla would get up from her chair and walk directly to where the item was and return to place it on his lap. The moral of the story: Look once, don’t get ticked off, ask Arvilla and she’ll show you where it’s at. He missed her.
Their daughters had shown an initial concern about him staying in Crouch after their mother passed, leaving him all alone. His daughter in Reno offered to have him move in. His daughter in Denver suggested he move into a living center near her home. Both were easy answers—no. It seemed ridiculous to move into a new place and away from home just to die closer to family. He stayed at home. Their home. Where he and Arvilla had raised the girls.
The girls were close to their mother, not as close to him. He figured it was just a woman thing. They bonded over their commonality. The girls called about once a month and tried to visit a least once a year. It was enough for them. It was enough for him. Not that he didn’t love them or want to see them, but they had their own lives and families. When they did visit, they acted as if they were leaving the real world and entering a no-man's-land. Without internet—and that WiFi thing the kids asked him about—the popularity of visiting decreased.
Arvilla would have fixed all that. She liked the progressive things in her home, like her bottom-drawer fridge, a coffeemaker with an electronic timer, and the microwave to warm up leftovers so she didn’t have to dirty so many pots and pans. Although, she wasn’t so keen on the kids burying their faces in their phones.
And what nine-year-old needs a cellphone? she’d ask.
Henry looked over the items on his table. He stuffed a light jacket into his backpack and set the rest of the gear on top of the coat. He kept the heavier coat and gloves out for the morning. His outer needs satisfied, Henry went to the cupboard and grabbed a few things to keep his insides satisfied. A bag of homemade beef jerky with extra cracked pepper, a fistful of hard candies, and a small bag of cheddar cheese popcorn. He smiled at the bag of popcorn.
Arvilla made him soft in his older years. She begged him to be a little more adventurous, to “Live a little!” She convinced him to try a few different flavored popcorns from the Jones’ quick mart, much against his argument that he preferred it the way nature meant it—butter and salt. After the first bag she had him hooked. Every week they would buy a new flavor until they had tried them all. Then they would reset and go through them all again.
She hooked him and he couldn’t give up the treat even after she passed. The treat was delicious and reminded him of her.
Henry pushed back the flap on the backpack and slid the items inside, on top of the other gear. He returned to the cupboard and grabbed his coffee canister and put it next to the brewer. He would fill the canister and make a fried egg sandwich on the way out the door in the morning.
He glanced one last time at his preparations and nodded. He would reach his spot before sun up and find a good tree for a backrest. Just because Chase was out of town didn’t mean he wasn’t able to contribute to the cause. A little recon on the cabin could benefit Chase in the long run. It was better than sitting at home, plus no one would be the wiser, except him and Chase.
25
Chase nursed his way through his first beer and was halfway down his second when the first black BDU pants arrived. He walked in as if he’d won a race: get off work, gas up, change shirt while driving from polo to blue t-shirt, pull into bar parking lot, and walk into the bar to be hailed the victor.
The trophy? Beer.
“Hey Bennie, beer me!”
The man called to the bartender and started his trek from the door toward the back of the bar. As the man’s eyes adjusted, he noticed Chase in the corner and slowed his pace. He acted as if he’d finally come home from a long deployment, only to find his front door open and someone sitting in the living room in his favorite chair.
Chase made eye contact and played on the man’s gaze, slightly disheveled. As the man slowed and tried to change his plans mid-way down the bar, Chase stood.
“Did I take your seat?” Chase asked.
The man held up his hand and stopped short of the corner, “No worries.”
“Really, though. This is my first time here and I’m not trying to overstep my welcome.”
Chase looked to the bartender and received a nod of appreciation.
“I can move around the corner and trade places with you. I haven’t had the chance to claim a regular spot yet so I’m still shopping stools,” Chase said.
The man was visibly put off. He wasn’t acting irritated, but he couldn’t hide dealing with the slight change.
“Bennie?” Chase called to the bartender. “His beers on me. No hard feelings.” Chase raised his half-empty mug to Bennie then the polo guy.
The man took his beer from Bennie and raised it toward Chase with a half-hearted “thanks” and took a sip before setting it on the bar. A good sign. Skipping a sip after raising his glass would have been a telltale sign of bad blood. Chase would take the mild win and work his way up from it.
Chase pushed a $5 toward the inner-edge of the bar to pay for the beer. Bennie picked it up and tapped his knuckle on the bar in thanks for $2 tip.
As Bennie rang up the sale and slid the drawer shut, he broke the silence by asking Chase, “So you’re new in town?”
Chase smiled, Let the games begin.
He nodded and took another swig, “Yeah, just came in two days ago.”
“Did you move here for work… family?” Bennie asked.
“Nope. Just needed a change in scenery.”
“You have a job here or looking?”
Chase enjoyed the banter. It was going down the trail he intended. He would provide little bumps and cues to keep Bennie on track with the usual bar chatter, making sure he was loud enough for the polo guy to hear.
“Looking.”
“What type of work do you do?”
Chase noticed the polo guy’s head was turned barely toward the conversation, pretending to ignore the whole thing but listening just the same.
“I’ve done a little bit of everything. Farm work, vehicle maintenance, carpentry. You name it, I’ve probably dabbled in it at some point.”
“Military?”
Bingo.
“Why do you say that?” Chase asked.
“Hey, I’m a professional. I’ve served a lot of drinks and watched a lot of customers over the years.”
“What gave it away?”
Bennie leaned against the counter behind him and folded his arms, looking as if he was Sherlock Holmes laying out the facts of a case.
“Mannerisms. You walked in, surveyed the bar to see who and where people were, then made your way to the furthest corner so no one was behind you and you could see who came and went,” Bennie got a smug look on his face.
“Good call.”
Bennie couldn’t help but continue, “You’re either law enforcement or military or both. Now I’m guessing you’re just military, otherwise why would you have up and left your law enforcement job? You’re old enough to have put in your 20 year
s with the military. So, how did I do?”
Chase raised his mug, “Well done barkeep, well done.”
Bennie’s vocal deductions couldn’t have helped more if Chase had scripted the conversation himself.
“What branch?” the polo guy asked and got Chase’s attention.
“Army,” Chase answered.
“Marines,” the man replied.
Chase raised his mug and the man matched his salute, both taking a drink before setting their mugs back on the bar. Chase was about to reel the man in further when the front door flipped open and three more black BDU clad men strolled in. They called to Bennie and then noticed their co-worker sitting just short of the end of the bar, not in their usual spots.
They walked up to the man and gave him a look like, “What gives?”
The man raised an eyebrow and lifted his mug in Chase’s direction for his friends to see and gave a respectful, “Army.”
Chase returned the gesture, “Marines.”
The men jostled around the first man, trying to decide where to sit. It should have been a simple act. Pick a stool, drink your beer, laugh and punch your buddies in the arm. But it threw the three men off by the new surroundings, even though they were regulars and their normal stomping ground was only about nine feet away.
Chase let the discomfort hang in the air for about two minutes before standing up. All four men took notice. They looked as if they made a reservation and the host was finally about to seat them in their favorite spot.
“Listen guys, I didn’t mean to upend you. You look like you’ve had a long day and earned your beers. I basically filled out a few applications and looked for the closest bar. No comparison. Switch me seats,” Chase said.
The men hesitated and one of the newer entrants was about to say something but changed his mind. Regaining their spot at their bar was worth more than an inconvenience to a guy they didn’t know.
Chase picked up his mug and change from the bar and headed toward them. All four men stood and backed from their stools, almost forming a straight line to make their way to where Chase had been sitting. Chase smiled as they stood, evenly spaced in a single line. He wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them called out, “Right face, forward march.”
Chase turned sideways to give the four men room to pass. Each man nodded in turn as they passed Chase and slipped onto their familiar barstools. The seats acted like power outlets, each man plugged in as he sat down, a jolt of energy as they sparked to life. All was now well in their world.
“Hey Bennie,” Chase called. “Set ‘em up for these guys.”
Bennie pulled fresh mugs from the countertop behind him and stepped to the row of draft handles and began pouring. The four men held up their mugs in appreciation and Chase followed suit.
The men began to chat with each other, just low enough for Chase to hear her their mumbling but not their actual conversation. Bennie finished filling the mugs and grabbed two in each hand. The men noticed and quickly downed the last of the beer in the mugs in front of them. When each man had a fresh mug in front of them, Chase again raised his own.
“Marines,” he said.
“Army,” the first polo returned.
The other three men joined in—Marines, Navy, Marines.
Chase and the four men took long draws before slamming their mugs back down with resounding clacks on the wooden bar. Chase pushed his mug toward Bennie’s side of the bar and pulled two $20 bills from his pocket.
Bennie refilled the mug and took the money. He returned with Chase’s change and set it next to his mug. Chase took a $10 bill from the pile and slid it toward the edge of the bar. Bennie performed his ritual of taking the money and tapping his knuckle on the bar.
The chatter in the corner quieted and the first polo called out, “Hey, Army.”
Chase took a drink from the cold mug and turned to look at the man.
“What type of work are you looking for?”
The other men looked to see and hear Chase’s response.
Hook set, keep the line taut but don’t snap it.
“About anything at this point. You know the drill, serve a couple tours and come home. Try to find someone that’s hiring men to clear villages and gather intel.”
The four men laughed. The reality hitting close to home.
“Tried the police department?” the Navy guy asked.
“Yeah. I think my background scared them off. Kind of like putting a leash on a badger and setting him loose in the community.”
The comment sent a second round of laughter through the polos.
Chase was about to turn the reel a few more cranks when the door to the main entrance swung open again. The man was slightly larger than the others, same BDUs, but walked with a little more confidence, a little more brass.
The first polo called out, “It’s about time, James.”
Bennie grabbed another mug and headed back to the tap. He filled the mug as the man made his way to the furthest corner stool, the one Chase had vacated. Chase guessed the man was the ringleader, or at least held an upper position at the HLC.
“What took so long?” one of the other Marines asked.
“Special detail,” the man answered and then thanked Bennie as he dropped off the mug of beer in front of him. “My schedule is a little tweaked for now, eight to eight.”
“Curfew to curfew,” polo one commented.
James nodded and reached for his beer. He noticed Chase watching them and glanced at his men.
The first polo spoke up, “He’s good. Army.”
James nodded. Chase returned the gesture. One man stood and stepped behind the others. The other men grabbed their mugs and swiveled on their barstools to form a makeshift huddle. Chase’s intuition was spot on as the men all seemed to offer comments and wait for James to respond. The two men who were standing retook their seats.
“Army?” James called.
Chase looked over at James.
“Got a name?”
“Chase. Chase Harper. Yours?” Chase asked to level the playing field, though he knew the man’s last name from his entrance.
“Patrick James. Heard you’re looking for work,” the man didn’t mince words.
“Yes, sir,” Chase added the formal response to punctuate his past and James’ current position.
“Ever done security work?” James asked.
“Not in the civilian sector.”
“Interested?”
“Are we talking about driving around commercial properties or mall patrol?”
“Neither,” James said. “It’s more toward a community foot patrol, private community, exclusive.”
The first polo’s beer started to kick in, “It’s kind of like herding cats with a stick.”
James turned to the man with a scowl. The man looked back toward his mug, as if apologizing and blaming it on the suds.
“It’s a private community about an hour outside of town. Low-key and mostly perimeter foot patrol.”
“Sounds right up my alley. Armed?”
“No.”
“Is there a reason you’re not armed? Perimeter patrol usually means keeping people in or out,” Chase asked.
“No firearms needed,” James punctuated his response. “We work a standard twelve-hour shift, twenty-four-seven coverage. Interested?”
“What’s the pay?”
The Navy polo spoke up, “Better than anything you’ll find around here, trust me.”
“Interested?” James asked.
“Absolutely,” Chase said.
“Honorable discharge?”
“Yes, sir,” Chase switched again to military mode.
“Good. You’ll need a copy of your DD-214.”
“That’s it? No other application?” Chase asked.
“We’ll run an internal record check. That, your DD-214, and the way you’ve held yourself here is enough. When can you have it?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll give you the
coordinates to the front gate. Drop it off there.”
“Coordinates, not the address?” Chase played along and smiled.
“Let’s just say the property is rural,” James said.
“Sounds good to me.”
The first polo couldn’t help himself, “Sounds like a good cause for a celebration to me. Bennie set ‘em up!”
26
The phone rang twice before someone answered. Chase recognized Alice’s voice on the other end.
“Jones’ Gas and Groceries,” she said.
“Alice this is Chase.”
“Good morning, Chase,” she said.
Chase could hear her cover the mouthpiece and announce, “It’s Chase.”
“How did everything go last night?” she asked.
“Good. Really good. Actually, better than expected,” Chase admitted. “I need your help, though.”
“Anything, anything at all. What do you need?”
“Do you have a computer and a printer I can use?” he asked.
“Of course. What do you need a printer for?”
“I need to print out some documents for my new job,” he couldn’t help but give a short laugh.
“New… job…?” The words stumbled out of Alice’s mouth.
“As a polo guy.”
Chase pulled up to the store about an hour after calling and talking to Alice. Frank met him as he pulled the front door open and stepped in.
“Sure hope you know what you’re doing, son,” Frank said.
Chase grinned and shrugged his shoulders. He knew the Jone’s had seen more people going in than coming out of the Community and had a natural concern, besides having first-hand knowledge of the polo shirt guys protecting the place. It was a valid concern and he appreciated Frank’s hesitation about his joining their ranks.
Alice waved from the counter as Frank escorted Chase to the back of the store and into the storage area. They walked down a row of stacked grocery items against the wall, from canned goods for the shelves to beer and soda and water for the cooler. At the end of the row, Frank opened a door leading into the couple’s home. To say they were connected to their work was an understatement.