A Hell of a Woman. Ron Boone's Hummer
Читать онлайн книгу.
tion>
A Hell Of A Woman
By Ron Hummer
Copyright 2012 Ron Hummer
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0823-1
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This story does not reflect the advertising or public relations industry. It reflects companies that use non-compete agreements.
Introduction
Sunday, June 6, 2010
From the outside, Grizzlies was a large, chromium plated tavern with a green canopy roof that had a head of a Grizzly bear on the sign that said Grizzlies. Located near the docks off Interstate 95 in Allentown, Pennsylvania, cars could only park in the dirt since no spots were formally marked.
At night, the lot is bathed from headlights from cars looking to park anywhere, a bouncer standing at the foot of the stairs checking ID as people piled inside. Behind the windows are people sitting at the bar, the music loud, men and women either at a booth having dinner or shooting pool at the 8 pool tables in the back.
Sunday night was a slow night as Mike Devlin stared at the half-empty tavern, watched as the raven-haired bartender put ice in his glass, drenched it in Jack Daniels and Coke, then passed it back to Mike. He reached for the drink, put it to his lips, taking a long sip before putting the glass back on the bar. Then he closed his eyes, took in the music of Commander Cody’s Beat Me Daddy Eight To The Bar.
“You know,” he said to the bartender, “I’ve been out with some crazy women in my time. One time” - he coughed into his hand - “I went out with this girl. I thought we had a really good time. So at the end of the date, I asked her if she wanted to see me again. And you know what she says?”
“What’s that?” the bartender asked.
“I’ll keep you in suspense.”
“Okay,” he said.
“So I call her in a few days and we talk for a few minutes. I asked her if she wanted to see me. Again, she says I’ll keep you in suspense.”
“Sounds like she’s doing that,” a man with brown shaggy hair said from 3 stools down.
“So, after a few days, I get home. There’s a message on my machine. I play it. It’s her. She says okay Mike, I won’t keep you in suspense anymore. I don’t want to go out with you. It was nice meeting you. Then she hung up.”
“Not very nice,” said a heavy-set blonde that sat on his left.
“Another time,” Mike said, taking out his wallet from his back pocket, putting a $5 on the table, letting the bartender scoop it up, “I was supposed to go out with this girl on Valentines Day. I go to the flower shop, pick up some flowers.” He took a sip of his drink, drained it. “Weather was really bad. It’s a snowstorm. But she’s really good looking so I don’t care. So I head out. Traffic is going at a slow pace but I keep going. I’m watching the clock. I’m almost there.” He moves his arms as if he’s running from his chair. “I’m 10 minutes late. I figure I’ll call her and she’ll understand. So I call her and she’s pissed.”
“Why?” the bartender wanted to know.
“She said I should have called her earlier. She couldn’t believe that I was late. I said, hey, there’s a snowstorm outside.”
“Pretty pathetic,” the blonde haired woman said.
“Yeah. So she says my friends are here. I thought that we could double date. I really can’t believe you’re so late. You should have called me earlier to tell me this. I said I’m doing my best. I’ll be there soon. So you know what she says?”
“What?” the bartender replied.
“Let’s forget it. I don’t want to see you anymore. She hung up on me.”
“Real bitch,” the bartender said. “Should have gone there and thrown the flowers on her porch.”
“Oh, that was nothing compared to this. I was out with this blonde at the Seaport in Boston. She was pissed at me because I didn’t see her right away. Kept complaining all the way to dinner in the cab.” Here, he lowered his voice. “I can’t believe you didn’t see me. I can’t believe you didn’t see me.”
Devlin took a $10 bill from his wallet, put in on the bar. The bartender picked up the $10 bill, shuffled back to the register. “Anyway, we go to Grogan’s. You know, the quarterback from the Patriots.”
“We’re Eagles fans,” a voice behind him in the next stool said.
“Hey, I never liked the Patriots,” Mike said.
“So you’re a Giants fan?”
He turned to the voice, looked at the bald-headed man with tattoos of snakes on his head, sitting a few feet behind him at a table.
“I like the Eagles also.”
“Cool.”
Mike turned back to the bartender who returned with five crumpled dollar bills and quarters, along with another Jack and Coke. Devlin left two 2 crumpled bills on the table, taking the other 3 and quarters. “Anyway, we get there and she orders a lobster. $75. Guess it was on purpose because I didn’t recognize her.”
“Should have just left her there,” another man in front of him said, his dark hair falling over his shoulders. Devlin turned. heard the balls clack away on the pool table on his right. A man with an au lait complexion looked up while a burly red-headed man shot the 2 ball in the corner pocket.
“I know. But I let it go on. By the end of dinner, she was plastered, had about 5 screwdrivers.”
“Sounds like somebody’s getting some tonight,” a man with a brown beard and dark-rimmed glasses said.
“Don’t think I didn’t think about that.” He took a sip of his drink, looked at the bartender over the rim, then put it back on the bar. “So we’re walking along and she sees a full moon and you know what she does?”
“What?” the man with the brown shaggy hair asks.
“She starts howling.”
Everyone in the bar starts laughing.
“Yeah, can you believe that? She says she’s a really sick person. And she starts howling. Then she spills her screwdriver all over the floor.”
“So, what happened next?” the man with the brown beard asked.
“Well, she starts coming on to me.”
“Oh yeah,” the bartender said.
“Truth is, I’m really turned off. I just want to get the hell out of there.”
“I would have tapped that,” the bald-headed man said.
“I was done. So I just glared at here and she says okay. She’s really mad at me. Can you believe that?” He chewed on his lower lip. “She says no she yells now I’m going to the ladies room and then you’re going to take me home. Then she goes upstairs.”
“So you left?” a blond haired man asked from 5 stools away.
“Yep. I did. Got in a cab and was home after midnight. Fast asleep until the phone rings at 2:00 in the morning.” He took a sip of his drink. “I answer it and she’s on the phone. She calls me an asshole and a son of a bitch several times before hanging up.”
“Unbelievable,” the bartender said.
“Yep. But that’s still not as bad as this woman I’m seeing