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When Prosper hesitated just inside the door, Petey McCabe lifted his chin by way of greeting, so Prosper made his way to the free barstool next to his buddy..
“Wondered when you’d be back around.” Petey clapped him on the back, and called out to the owner who was working the grill. “Sean, look what the damn cat dragged in!”
Sean turned, wiped his hands off on a bar towel, then extended his right one out to Prosper. “Good to see you.” Sean, who was in his mid-seventies, gave Prosper a firm handshake. “Jack’s gonna be happy as hell to have you back around too. Ain’t been easy.” Sean shook his head, then he changed the direction of the conversation. “Swiss-mushroom-beef-baconburger deluxe with a double order of cajun fries?”
Prosper gave him a small grin. “My mouth started watering for it the minute I hit Route 95.”
“You got it, and it’s on the house,” Sean told him. Then he proceeded to put three shot glasses on the bar and fill them with Jack Daniels. Sean raised his glass in an old Irish blessing: “Here’s to beefsteak when you’re hungry, whiskey when you’re dry, all the women you’ll ever want, and heaven when you die.”
The three men clinked their glasses together and downed their shots all in one gulp. Sean went off to cook up Prosper’s burger while Petey gulped down his beer. When the food came, Petey ordered another shot and kept on drinking as Prosper enjoyed his burger and fries.
“Jack been around?” Prosper asked in between bites.
“Yeah, a few times. Doesn’t stay too long though. Sometimes grabs a couple of orders of food to bring home to the girls.” Petey shrugged. “He’s holding up okay, I guess, considering. That’s why you’re here? To lend a hand?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.” Prosper nodded, and then, because he didn’t want to talk anymore about it, he changed the subject. “How you doing? How’s the family?”
“Can’t complain. Got my kid playing little league. He’s damn good at it too. He’s got a strong arm and the coach has got him pitching. Reno and the rest of the little hellions on the team have been away at training camp this week, so Dolly and the other moms are up there now. They all went together a day early to spend some time shopping and shit. I got no responsibilities until Sunday, and I plan to use this time to get blasted and then go home and sleep it off until at least noon.”
“I love my wife, I sure as hell do, but don’t mind telling you, Dolly can be a pain in the ass. Gets up with the goddamn birds, all cheerful and shit. Never seems to occur to her that not everyone is a damn morning person. My grandpa told me never to marry a redhead. Shoulda listened.”
Petey snorted then reached into his wallet and pulled out a picture of his boy outfitted in a baseball uniform, smiling at the camera. “They got these pictures taken of the team. Individual shots that look like baseball cards. Cost me a damn fortune, but the kid looks good, huh? I think he’s kinda skinny and small for his age, but Dolly says the doctor told her he’s damn perfect. She’s on top of shit like that, so aside from slipping him a couple of candy bars when his ma ain’t looking, I leave it for her to handle.” The obvious love and pride Petey felt for his wife and son belied the rough cadence of his voice.
At the mention of baseball, Sean clicked on the television and half the bar turned to watch the ballgame from their seats. Prosper had needed this time to unwind, and knowing he was only about twenty minutes away from Jack and Maggie’s house made him feel better. So, he shot the shit with the guys, watched the game, and relaxed for the first time in what seemed like forever.
“Hey Petey, your sister’s calling.” The bartender brought the phone over to the bar and placed it there.
“Aw, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Petey swore under his very intoxicated breath. When he went to pick up the phone and missed the receiver twice, Prosper answered it for him.
“Petey? Petey? You there? For the love of god, Peter Mckenzie McCabe, you better pick up this damn phone. I need you to get your sorry Irish ass off that barstool and come get me,” an exasperated woman’s voice sounded out.
“Where are you?” Prosper asked.
Pinky hesitated on the other end of the line, then responded, “Who are you?”
“Just a guy at the bar. Your brother is …” Prosper really didn’t want to tell her that Petey was too shitfaced to take her call.
Pinky said with exasperation, “He’s dead drunk, isn’t he?”
Prosper swung his gaze to Petey, but he didn’t respond because she was not wrong. In the short time Prosper had been on the phone Petey had done a face-dive on the bar, and his snoring was creating bubbles in the small pool of spilled beer next to him.
“Listen, can you do me favor? Just call a taxi for me. I’m stuck here out on the road, and I don’t mind telling you it’s damn creepy.”
“What’s wrong with your car?” Prosper asked.
“What the hellisn’t? Just call me that cab? Sean keeps a list of cab companies behind the bar. If you don’t see it, just tell Sean to call one. I’m at exit 33 off the interstate in a blue Buick.”
Then she let out a yelp of alarm.
“What? What’s going on?” Prosper frowned into the phone.
“Oh, my god. There’s a bear foraging in the trashcan.” Her voice was shaking.
The operator cut in and asked for another coin to be deposited.
“I’m outta change … Please just call for the cab and for the love of god, hurry,” she implored him.
Then the line went dead.
