Free Encounters by Stewart Felkel

counter with a shot of whiskey in one hand and an empty beer bottle in front of him. Several more empties had already made their way to the trash. He raised his shot glass with a shaking hand, sloshing whiskey over the edge, and tilted his head back to drink it. When he set it down his head dipped even lower towards the countertop. The bartender was watching him as he cleaned up and it was obvious that he was going to ask for his keys soon.
    He glanced out the window behind him and saw that dusk was rapidly turning into full dark. He still had half a bottle left so he leaned back in his seat and watched the sun set over west Texas. He was lost in thought when he heard the approaching roar of a motorcycle, several motorcycles actually to judge by the volume. They continued to grow louder until they were right outside and then the sound died off as one by one the engines were shut off. The sound of heavy boots tramping preceded the door being thrown open and bouncing off of the wall behind it. Six men wearing matching leather jackets stomped in talking loudly and swearing among themselves. At the counter the woman, Jackie maybe, hunched in on herself and turned her head away slightly. The bartender’s expression never changed and the young drunk just continued to sink ever lower. One of the bikers walked over to the jukebox and fed it coins before making his selections. In moments Nugent’s Cat Scratch Fever began pouring out of the speakers.
    Meanwhile, the rest of the bikers had wound their way through the tables to the bar. Just as they came to a stop in front of it the young man’s head finally succumbed to gravity and booze hitting the counter with a hollow thump. The bikers started laughing wildly and joking amongst themselves about how he couldn’t hold his liquor. The bartender just rolled his eyes at him before turning back to ask for their order. They each asked for beer and the bartender started popping tops off of bottles. While he was doing that one of the bikers, a skinny man with pale skin and lanky hair, spotted the brunette sitting on her stool. He nudged one of his companions, a tall man with broad shoulders and blonde hair that hung to his shoulders. When he saw what his friend was looking at a smile crept over his face and his eyes lit up eagerly. He moved over to lean against the bar beside her, reaching o ut his hand to brush her cheek.
    “What’s your name sweetheart” he asked.
    She didn’t reply. She flinched away, but otherwise sat rigid and still on her stool. His companions gathered around her in a looming circle and began making crude comments to her.
    “Leave her alone or I’m gonna have to ask you to leave”, interjected the bartender.
    The blonde leader attempted to stare him down, but to the bartenders credit he met his stare and refused to be intimidated even though the biker towered over him. A toothy maniacal smile spread across blonde biker’s face after several moments of this. He turned to face the rest of his gang and jerked his head back towards the bartender. Two of them immediately leapt the counter and grabbed his arms before he could run. He struggled, but they both outweighed him by close to a hundred pounds. A third biker took his time in sauntering around the counter, cracked his knuckles, and without a word began pummeling the helpless bartender. The brunette that he had been attempting to defend began crying hysterically and the whole time blonde biker’s smile never faltered.
    None of them had taken any notice of the drifter in the back corner who had continued to sip his beer while debating the merits of getting involved. The trio beating the bartender finally dumped him on the floor unconscious. Blonde biker had stopped paying attention, however, and was leering at the Brunette and stroking her tear stained cheek. He made gentle shushing sounds as he did this, but they only made her tears flow faster. Then suddenly his hand slipped behind her neck and he jerked