Part 3 Eighth drink and rude interruptions
Tenth drink and ‘everything else takes care of its self’
The Junior Official’s humiliating exit signalled to everyone it was fine to resume their zombie like shuffling and primitive grunts as they ordered the poison that would help them cope with whatever issues they were wrestling, of more concern to a calmed down Bob was a sheepish looking Blondie nervously wringing her hands. “I’m sorry” was all she could manage, the confidence running from her eyes in the streaks of quiet tears. After a long minute Bob surprised Blondie by slowly and purposely turning to face her, gently taking her hands to sensitively lift them from her lap with a strong but gentle hold, looking into Blondie’s smudged mascara eyes “It’s ok, no need” the angry disappointment she expected was instead a quietly comforting look.
After Blondie had recovered from the shock of Bob’s unnaturally calm response, the bartender poured her another glass on Bob’s behalf as his hands were still reassuringly cradling Blondie’s “And next time…” a considered pause “just tell me your boyfriend doesn’t have a pair and you want to upgrade” Blondie’s smile making a welcome return, the same time as Bob’s.
The times Bob had been screwed over were beyond counting, but this time it just didn’t seem to matter somehow. Blondie’s attentions and the bartender’s sharp tongued comments had lightened the mood, he was being offered drinks by other punters and the two stylishly dressed gentlemen had apparently decided to let Bob enjoy his night before collecting their boss’s money. They were also wise enough to have positioned themselves at the end of the bar; concealed holsters unclipped, to prevent Bob leaving without paying the debt.
‘Time to face the music’ Bob was filled with a peaceful calm; the two gentlemen patiently waiting might even believe his story about being fleeced by a corrupt official; having displayed his honourable nature by defending a lady; with calm resolve he stood up and started towards the end of the bar, gun firmly clipped in its holster to avoid any more complications. Bob’s path was fixed on the elder of the two gentlemen, both of whom were now respectfully standing, some twisted criminal symbol of recognition, Bob stone cold sober and resigned to his fate.
Half way to his destination “Don’t move Bob” a senior security officer barged through the saloon doors, no introduction was required. “You got my five hundred already, what the fuck do you want now?” Bob’s wonderful tranquillity converted into pure rage. “I have a colleague with a hole in his leg, a smuggler who tried to bribe an official and a dark pit to drop you in” satisfaction saturated every word as the Senior Security Officer flashed the most repulsive smirk Bob had seen, the kind a crocodile would be proud of.
Rage turned to vengeance, vengeance to pure unredeemable intent, such hateful intent fuelled by a ruined night, triggering such a foul mood there would be fist shaped dents in the hull of Bob’s transport tonight “On the count of three bartender, call it” Bob’s posture statue like, a hand hovering over his blaster as he hit the charge button, preparation for its final shot of the evening “One; Two;…”. “I brought friends” the Security Officer maliciously slithered the words like the serpent he was, with a smirk almost as repulsive as his crisp uniform that was struggling to hold in his over inflated belly.
On the officer’s words two armed men in combat attire tactically emerged from outside of the establishment, rifles raised, but any intimidation they were meant to portray was diminished by the blinding focus of Bob’s loathing for the man that stood between him and his freedom “At least you won’t be smiling with a hole in the head, I’ll see you in hell” Bob’s final words worthy of any hero.
Part 5 Last Orders gentlemen, time to settle all debts