Rick’s head hit the floor, hard.
He had rolled off the sofa, dreaming.
TV was still on, clock said 1:48
He felt oddly disoriented beyond the bumped head until he awakened enough to remember it was Ghost Week at Bolos.
Blister Fest up north. Carter and Mazzy rented two buses, all the regs went up and camped out for three days of music and alcohol poisoning.
Bolos, the little tavern Rick owned, Over 40 beers and One Kind of Bratwurst! was so slow it almost went backward. It was one of two weekends he took off all year. It felt weird.
He always thought about closing for the weekend, but Laura, the best bartender in the Great Lakes and beyond, felt that it was important to stay open for a few of the older patrons, people who could never get a game on the pool table or hear their shitty songs on the jukebox.
Rick rubbed his head, flipped open his laptop to catch the latest training camp reports.
The computer opened as it always did to the feed from the four security cams at the bar. Front Door, top left, Back Door, top right, Parking Lot, bottom left, Main Bar bottom right.
Rick rubbed his eyes, squinting from the glare of the screen.
Looked like a strange lens flare on the Main Bar cam.
Weird shadows. Laura not behind the bar.
Rick squinted, looked again.
Laura was in front of the bar, fighting.
The color resolution sucked, but that was her pony tail, black on the screen, deep red in real life.
Rick felt panic and rage shoot up from his testicles to the back of his neck.
He looked again.
The screen showed a strange dance. Two men, Laura in the middle.
Rick pawed wildly at the sofa for his phone, slamming the light switch on so hard it sounded like a pistol cocking.
Phone. Call Cops.
He didn’t see his phone.
He jammed his hand between the sofa cushions and swiped down, hoping to feel something solid. Nothing.
Fuck fuck fuck.
He could be there in 4 minutes.
Thought about the bike, the Kawi, he could be there in two. Take longer to get it out of the garage.
He looked back at the screen.
A barstool was down.
Where is Crampy? He never goes to Blister. Fuck!
His eyes scanning for his cellphone as he ran toward the back door, Rick kicked over the cat’s water, ignored it, grabbed his keys from the hook near the door.
His eyes scanned the road now, ignoring the speedometer.
Never leaving Laura alone at the bar again. I hate myself.
He blew the light at Kisner Parkway, barely slowing.
Cut down Bagwell, almost clipped an F-150 taking the corner.
Pulled into the gravel lot, opening the door before the car was at a complete stop.
Laura was sitting on a parking block near the back.
Her head was down, her shoulders were convulsing.
She looked up at the car, at Rick.
He wanted to pick her up, hug her. Was she hurt? fuck fuck fuck
Laura was holding her phone in her left hand.
“Djoo call the cops?” Rick asked, somehow out of breath for a guy who had only been driving.
Laura’s shoulders convulsed again. Her eyes were bright. She was smiling, the smile that brought the patrons back to Bolos.
“Cops? Hell no. Funniest shit ever.”
Rick slid into a kneel next to her, feeling the gravel rip his jeans.
“Are you hurt?”
“You stalking the security cam?”
“I just turned it on…I’m so sorry, I’ll never…”
Rick was out of breath. The adrenalin was in other parts of his body.
“Ricky, relax.It’s fine. Holy Crap was that funny.”
“Funny? I just saw you in the middle of-”
“Only for a few seconds. Sorry you came up here on Ghost Weekend.”
“You’re ok?”
Laura grimaced a bit, held out her right hand.
“Honestly, I think I broke my pinkie, but I’m fine.”
Rick took her wrist. Laura’s pinkie was badly swollen.
“C’mon. Ice. Now.”
“Ok.”
Laura stood.
“No one was there to help you break it up?” Ricky asked.
Before she could answer he said “I’m so, so sorry, I should never…I thought Crampy…but it’s my fault…”
“Rick, relax. They were ancient. That Aaron guy who works at the little airport, the one by Waldorf, and I don’t know the other guy. Older than Aaron. Dumb. Oh god, Rick, you have audio on those security cams?”
Rick shook his head no.
“We’ll identify them, don’t worry.”
He helped Laura up the steps into Bolos.
“That’s not why I asked, Rick. I know who they are.”
The one bar stool was horizontal, other than that no signs anything unusual happened.
Rick grabbed ice and put it in a bar rag, placing it on Laura’s finger.
She giggled again.
“I’m freaking out right now,” Rick said.
Laura shook her head.
“Don’t freak. It’s fine. The two old guys were talking philosophy, ethics, the guy I didn’t recognize…Danny? Manny? Manny, I think. I dunno…Laura laughed again, her shoulders jiggling like they had when Rick pulled up.
“Aaron was trying to impart the wisdom of Aristotle on the Manny guy. Philosophy probably doesn’t translate well at last call. Manny felt like Aaron was talking down to him, and they started kinda shoving. I told them to break it up, cut it out, then they kinda started drunk swinging.
I saw something in Manny’s hand, I thought it was a weapon at first, so I grabbed his arm, turns out it was just a pack of Newport Lights…”
Rick looked at Laura. “None of this is funny to me right now. I was scared shitless.”
Laura held up her left index finger. Just wait.
“So Aaron is still babbling about Aristotle, I got Manny by the wrist, and Manny says “If the goddamn Romans knew so much, how come their empire crumbled?”
Laura laughed again, holding her ribs with her left hand.
“I’m never gonna forget that one.”
Rick smiled, weakly.
“Where was Crampy? I kinda expected him to be my unofficial official security guy.”
“He was in most of the night. Left earlyish, said he had a fantasy football draft in the morning. The guys were harmless, Rick. Just old drunks. When the Manny guy tried to twist out of my grasp, my pinkie just got caught in his coat awkwardly.”
Rick lifted the bar rag full of ice off her finger.
“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
“At 2 am? Hell no.”
Rick gave her a paternal look.
“It might be broken.”
Laura lifted her hand, looked at her pinkie from a few different angles.
She smiled and started laughing again.
“It’s not broken. It’s just strained against reason.”
***
Could you hear my eyes roll on that last line?
Lots of nice details, as usual.