Page 42 of Saints & Sailors

Shangri-La.

I left Bonham’s side and looked both ways before crossing the street, a little aware that he was on my heels.

“Bad idea, Al is a tired old man and he’ll never let you in,” Bonham warned.

I didn’t listen. In all the glitz and glamour of the bars all around, Al’s was the underdog and I wanted in.

Without hesitating, I grabbed the door handle and pushed inside. Bonham and Bug followed behind me, each releasing a breath.

The space was mostly empty, except for a few older men who hung by the bar, and a few women seated at a one of the booths that lined the perimeter.

Behind the bar an old man could be seen eyeing us with disdain.

He looked like the late Robin Williams, another great that had died young.

Maybe I would die young, too.

A victim of my own demise.

Bonham and Bug hung by the door, like two kids who had been scolded by their school teacher.

I went over to the bar and perched myself onto a stool. I met Al’s old eyes and nodded. “Hey.”

“I don’t serve minors,” he told me.

I was pretty smashed already if I had to admit. “Just a water.”

It was evident that Al didn’t know my angle as he narrowed his eyes.

He grabbed a glass and poured me some water and dropped a few ice cubes in it before handing it over.

“Cheers.” I tipped the glass toward him and took a quenching sip.

Turning on the stool, I studied the bar and the room before me. A few tables in the center of the floor, a karaoke machine in the corner adjacent to a jukebox, and in the back was something that instantly had my full attention. A mechanical bull.

I faced Al. “That thing available to minors?”

Al peered back at the mechanical bull. “I suppose so.” He returned to me. “What’s your play?”

I grinned. “To live.”

Al gave up his skepticism. “All right, you can stay. The first sign of trouble and you all are out, you got that?”

Bonham didn’t register Al’s words until Bug was leaving his side and grabbing a seat at the bar.

Bug ordered a cola and I climbed off of the stool, aimed to tame the bull.

At the jukebox, I riffled through the catalog, surprised to find a few modern artists against all the legends.

I settled on Lynyrd Skynyrd as I faced the bull.

Al was at my side, staring at me reluctantly. “You sure about this, young lady?”

Maybe this would injure me or kill me. Maybe I would regret it.

Would I let it stop me? Let fear hold me back?

My life wasn’t in my own hands, but tonight, I was going against the grain and living how I wanted to in this one-horse town.