Free Deadside in Bug City by Randy Chandler Page A

self-consciously. The street door opened and a white-haired man in a seer-sucker suit entered the bar. He gave the bartender a casual salute as he climbed stiffly onto a barstool. “Hear that bell out there?” the old man asked.
    “Been hearing it all evening, seems like,” the bartender said, drawing a beer and setting it in front of the new arrival. “What you reckon it means, Godfrey?”
    The old man took a swallow of brew, giving himself a mustache of foam, and said, “Tell ya what I think. It’s an ill bell that bodes no good.”
    “How so?” The grinning bartender seemed to be egging the old man on as if this were their customary style of barroom banter.
    “Well, you know that old church has an unseemly history,” Godfrey said. “Way I hear it, that bell’s over two hundred years old. Forged in France before their revolution, it was. Used to hang in a monastery in—”
    The jukebox suddenly blared a raucous George Strait song, drowning the old man’s words.
    “Damn,” said Joe, “just when it was getting interesting.”
    “Huh?” Suzie looked at him with raised brows.
    “The old man.” Joe nodded in the direction of the bar. “I wanted to hear the rest of his story.”
    “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening,” she said. “Guess my mind was drifting.”
    “Oh.” Joe blew smoke toward the ceiling and took another sip of scotch.
    “I’m not usually like this,” she explained. “This spacey, I mean. I guess it’s this whole thing with Gary. And what happened in the convenience store.”
    “Understandable.”
    “You must think I’m a fool. For getting mixed up with such a jerk.”
    “No, I don’t. We all make mistakes, especially in affairs of the heart.”
    “Hah. With Gary and me it’s an affair without heart. Strictly physical, I’m ashamed to say. Lord, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You must think I’m awful.”
    “Far from it. I think you’re just a little mixed up right now. You’re young, trying to make it on your own and Gary comes along and takes advantage of you. Guys like him, that’s what they do. Don’t blame yourself. Just learn from the experience.”
    “I guess you’re right. Now I just have to figure out how to get rid of him.” She crushed out her smoke in the ashtray, suddenly brightened a little and said, “You could help me do it. If you could be with me when I tell him it’s over and I want him gone. ’Course, we’ll have to do it when he’s sober and less likely to wanna fight.”
    “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
    “Sure it is. With you there, he won’t try to push me around or threaten me.” She reached across the table and clasped his hand. “Will you help? Please? You’ll have a friend for life if you do. I’ll do something good for you sometime.”
    The touch of her hand sent a wave of warmth through him. “I…I want to help you, sure, but I don’t want to get in the middle of something that might land me in jail, you know? I mean, this is a volatile situation. What if he flies into a rage? Somebody could get seriously hurt. You never know how these things might turn out. I think you should get a restraining order to keep him away. Let the law handle it.”
    “The law? We just saw the law in action. I don’t need that kind of help. They might decide to stick a broom up me .”
    Joe blushed. He glanced at his wristwatch. “Damn, I’ve got to call my wife.”
    He started to get up but Suzie didn’t let go of his hand.
    “Will you think about it? Please?” Her eyes had suddenly filled with tears.
    He sighed. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
    She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you.”
    His thigh bumped the table’s edge as he stood. He hardly felt it. He could still feel the warmth of her lips and breath on his knuckles. He made his way through the scattered tables to the pay phone next to the cigarette machine. Though he hadn’t finished his first drink, he felt a little