February

One street over, the chaos of leave reigned as the amphibious group based on the USS Bonhomme Richard had returned to port yesterday.  Several thousand sailors and marines, especially the unmarried ones, were on the rampage.   In some ways it felt like coming home, in others, he thought as he glanced at the girl walking hand in hand with him to his right, he’d probably just beat one of them to death and that would be bad.  Of course, she’d probably think it was funny, and she definitely loved the chaos of the clubs on the street over, as she’d proven before Christmas in Tampa.  Damn, that had been fun. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d used that word for anything.  He couldn’t shake the shadows haunting his soul and spirit, but she always lifted them some.  Even if they had only known each other about a year, and her, transformation, had only been last summer.

“Why the fuck are we goose-stepping through the rain over here when the fun is obviously over there?”

“I’ll show ya…..

As they turn down a small alley, “The Salty Squid?  If that’s all you wanted, I could have salted your squid in the car……”

He smiled at her, “I know its not yer kind of place, but…..they’ll definitely have whiskey with tinnie chasers.”

“Good enough, for now,” and she pulls him against the brick of the alley, grabbing his hair and kissing him deeply.

He slides his hands up her thigh, pushing her back against the brick…..but when she comes up for breath, “You promised whiskey.”

“Fer now,” he replies.

---

 

They walked through the door, and it took just a moment for even his eyes to adjust to the dim, but brighter light in the bar.  Narrow, very narrow, a bar ran the for about forty feet along the left, with plenty of stools, maybe half empty.  A row of tables ran on the right, and if you squeezed you could put a third chair at any of them and maybe still walk by.

Everyone stared, even those that didn’t look, as they walked through the narrow space in between the tables, towards the deeper section of the bar, where the only apparent modern device in here was one of the new jukeboxes connected to the internet, supposedly.

He slid onto the stool, but she announced, rather loudly, “Whiskey baby, I’m going to go play something hot.”  Smiling wickedly at his chuckle, she headed towards the jukebox, taking the card he slides out of his wallet.

The one thing the bar does have is a lengthy mirror and he notes the stares, the chuckles, the smirks, mainly on the male customers, but a couple of the females too.  They are all as old as he is at a minimum, far older than his companion.

He notes the strange gait of the bartender as he moves down towards the newest customer, as Sex Type Thing starts blaring over the speakers, and he sees her start to dance in the very small area next to the device.

The bartender shakes his head, before saying, “This really isn’t that kind of place, you might want to head over to 3rd Street.”

“Then why have a jukebox?”

“You know what I mean, kid.”  The bartender is fifty on a good day, barrel chested, strong arms, and yet.

“Her?  I might take offense ta that,” he paused, before his eyes catch the pictures in the background, “Gunny.  Worse for ya, if she does.”  He slides his credit card out, “All my partner an’ I want ta do tonight, is drink an’ relax, an’ she’s going ta dance.  If we go over ta 3rd, some dumb ass sailor boy, or worse, some shit fer brains Marine, is going ta go dance with her, which she’ll like.  Then what’s goin’ ta happen after that is one of those stupid wankers will take that as an invitation ta put his hands on her, and then she’s going ta stick a switch blade in them, and then I’m going ta bust their heads, an’ then it will go downhill, for them anyway.  While I’ll have fun doin’ that, its more trouble than I need, an’ a bloody fuck ton of paperwork.  Maybe if we’re really feelin’ horny, we’ll teach yer customers a thing or two on this here bar.”

The grizzled woman two stools to his left starts laughing, nearly choking on her drink, “That’d be a sight.”

The bartender looks at the new guy more closely, and he looks back, before the bartender nods.  “Where, Digger boy?”

Sighing slightly, “Ya want me to take off these nice clothes ta compare?  Fine…..if that’ll make ya feel better.  Iraq, Afghanistan a couple times, some others that supposedly didn’t really happen.”  He paused again, “Where’d you leave the leg? The Rock?”

“Serbia, actually.  The girl?”

The smile dies on the younger man’s face.  “Ya’d have ta ask her but I wouldn’t.”  He downs the first shot of Jack Daniels while sitting two aside for the girl.  “Let’s just say some wars aren’t fought far away.”

After that, the drinks flowed quickly, the jukebox played continously, and the girl in the purple hair danced.  Most of the time by herself.  Nobody put their hands on her, well, nobody else did.