Free Bender at the Bon Parisien (A Novel) by Pres Maxson

your girl.”
    “I’m
not his girl,” Trudel reiterated.
    “She’s
not,” Fleuse sighed.
    “Let’s
have a break from the game,” I announced. “I feel like we are all going to be
hurting tomorrow morning if we keep this pace up.”
    “Yes,
I’m good with that,” Janie reinforced.
    Fleuse
pushed the pile of cards in front of him back toward the group. I could tell he
was in agreement.
    “It
was just getting fun!” Pistache exclaimed.
     
    *        *        *
     
    Janie
was alone at a table, scribbling on a napkin. She tends to log ideas the moment
she gets them. It’s the curse of the artistic. Plus, I knew she needed to clear
her head a little. The booze had twisted up everyone’s mind. Pistache is a
dangerous game.
    Fleuse
and Jacques were also back out at a table. I couldn’t hear them talking, but
the conversation looked congenial enough. The stranger had not moved from his
post with his book, so that left me alone at the bar with Trudel.
    “Is
tonight turning out as you expected?” I asked.
    She
thought for a moment. The liquor had opened her up a little bit. “Not exactly,
but it’s going alright I suppose.”
    “That’s
good to hear. So,” I switched gears, “you and Fleuse, huh?”
    “No!
Of course not!” she exclaimed.
    “No,
I know. You are clearly still in love with Victor. But, I meant that you used
to date or something?”
    “It
was a long time ago, and it didn’t mean anything.”
    “It
seems to mean a little to him now.”
    “Perhaps
it does,” she said with a short glance at him over her shoulder.
    “I
guess it’s harmless,” I said.
    “But
annoying,” she answered.
    “What
did you think of my piano playing?”
    “Fine,”
she replied, again without expression. “You should stick to writing the news.”
    “Well,
I wouldn’t call it news. I’m usually assigned the most boring stuff. Actually,
tonight has made me want to go and be a bartender again. I’m having a really
good time.”
    “Like
I said, you should stick to writing the news.”
    Taking
advantage of the break in the action, the stranger among us approached the bar.
    “I
see that this might be a good time to get another drink,” he said, smiling.
    “Why’s
that?” Trudel asked, barely looking up.
    “That
game seems to have died down a bit, and the bartender doesn’t seem too busy,”
he replied.
    “Absolutely,
sir. What’ll it be?” I answered.
    “Another
of the same, please.”
    Following
the lead of the stranger, Janie and Pistache were slowly moving back in the
direction of the bar. Fleuse remained at the table, lost in his glass.
    “You
know,” I said to the stranger. “We very well may begin another round of the
game here. Would you like us to deal you in this time?”
    He
smiled. “No, it looks full to me.”
    “Are
you sure? It’s a made-up game. I’m sure we could find a way to include you,” I
said with a nod in Pistache’s direction.
    “Don’t
look at me,” the street performer said with a smile. “The game came through me!
I was merely a conduit of the drinking-card-game fates!”
    “No,
thank you anyway,” the stranger said pleasantly. “I was having a fine time just
observing.”
    I
went to work on the man’s second drink. Alcohol was slowing the bartending.
Funny.
    “So!”
Pistache began as he threw his arms into the air. “Tell us, my friend. What
brings you in tonight?”
    The
stranger looked to Pistache. “Well, I wanted a drink. I happened to see this place
as I was walking by. It looked as good a spot as any.”
    “Well,
you couldn’t have chosen better, my friend. What are you reading?”
    “It
is a book of poetry. I found it at a book fair recently.”
    “Very
cool,” Janie commented. Both men ignored her.
    “Oh
yes? Who wrote it?” Pistache asked.
    “It’s
a compilation. Various authors,” the stranger said with a shrug.
    “I’ve
never heard of him,” Pistache said with a laugh, looking to the rest of us for
a