I hesitantly made my way to Bigham Street, constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure Iwasn’t being followed, with the slightest of noises making me skittish.
I felt like there were eyes on me.
When I finally turned up the road, I saw what I was looking for, located halfway up on the right-hand side. The two-story building sat with soft dull lights shining through the big windows. The bar was constructed out of stained wood that looked like it needed a touch up as it looked like it was starting to grow mold. However, it did have two beautifully carved wooden doors that both opened outward. The upstairs looked like it was an attic space with two small windows also looking out onto the street below.
After taking a calming breath and praying this wasn’t a waste of time, I pulled open the door and stepped inside. The door closed behind me, and I started to look around. There were way more people here than the first location. Then I saw him, feeling my heart start to beat lighter, like it sprouted butterfly wings and it’s trying to flutter away.
As I headed in his direction, I noticed David behind him motioning towards me. Jim turned around so fast, his beer toppled over, with an exclamational, “Shit.”
As he was trying to clean up, he didn't notice I had stopped next to him. But David did, and he had a wicked smile. “Hey buddy. Have to say, I would have lost money if I had bet if you were going to show up.”
Jim looked up with wide eyes. “Charlie, what are you doing here, kid? Is your dad with you?” he asked, looking worried and put out by my existence.
My smile immediately fell from my face.
Kid.
Why do people keep calling me that? I haven’t been a ‘kid’ in a longdamn time.
“Clearly, this was a mistake,” I said. “The invite must have meant something different in your ears compared to mine,” turning around to get back to the door.
“Hey, wait up, Charlie. He didn’t mean anything by it,” David said, getting up out of his chair to follow me, trying to make peace. So, I stopped and looked at him, “I think Jim is just surprised is all. Not going to lie, you don’t give off the bar fly type.”
“Well, I am my own person. I’m not attached to my dad’s hip, even though I know he wishes I was,” I said with irritation.
I noticed we had attracted some attention from other patrons, so leaving was becoming more of a solid plan by the second.
I’m an idiot.
That’s when I felt a hand wrap around my arm, and the rough voice of Richard who clearly followed me. “I knew you were going to cause a commotion wherever you ended up.”
I ripped my arm out of his hold and before I knew it, I was surrounded by Jim and David. “Well, it didn’t take long for you to acquire bodyguards. How sweet,” the asshole said in a thick sarcastic tone.
“What do you want, Richard?” Jim crossed his arms over his chest, popping his pectorals and flexing his arms.
“Nothing. I just came for a drink with my brother and maybe to make friends with the new guy from work.” Mystery solved on who the other guy was. Which is just perfect. Two offsprings to deal with.
“I have enough friends, thanks though,” I clipped out. “But it looks like there are two seats all the way at the end of the bar that have your name on them.”
“Hey Marty, jog my memory, are Richard and Dan even allowed to be here,” Jim yelled over his shoulder without breaking eye contact.
Somewhere behind us, I heard the bartender reply, “Nope. Not after the last fight Richard started, breaking my mirror and liquor bottles behind my bar.”
“Well, I guess that settles it then. Have a lovely night, boys,” Jim said, as he turned to push me back toward the bar, when David lunged past us and we heard a crack.
Looking back, David was on the ground, holding his head while Dan is holding Richard back, again. Holy Shit, “David!” My mouth was on the floor. What the hell?
“Get the fuck out of my bar, Richard, before I call the cops and this time, I’ll make sure the charges stick!” Out of the corner of my eye, Marty, a middle aged man with a soft stomach but in a healthy stature, a worn face and premature grey hair that looked like he just went through World War II, was now on our side of the bar and he’s holding, not one, but two baseball bats, and a pistol in his waistband.
Richard was screaming at us like a lunatic, saying unspeakable things in our direction, while a quiet Dan was pushing him out the door. I’m in too much shock to react. I just stood there as Jim, with the help of another shaggy light blonde-haired guy that I recognized as one of the men we passed in the mine, with the same fit body type as him and similar in age, helped David up to his feet. There was a bruise already forming on the side of his left cheek and up to his temple.
After plunking David back down on his stool, Jim signaled another round for the two of them. Marty threw three Iron City beers with a red, tan, and green label on the bar. Jim looked at them, then turned tome, then back to Marty with a questioning low brow look.
I answered the unspoken question for all of them. “I’m not old enough to drink.”
“Are you going to cause problems if you drink?” Like asking me the question was going to change the fact he threw a beer on the bar for me anyway.
“No, sir. I won’t, but I also don’t have any money,” I said to him, refusing to look toward Jim and David, not wanting them to foot my bill either.
