Eventide (Plainsong #2)(46)

At the corner of Third Street they crossed Main and stepped into the tavern, entering the long hot smoky room with its clamor of loud talk and country music and pool games going on in the back and the television playing from the bracketed shelf above the bar. His grandfather peered about while he stood beside him, waiting. Old men were sitting against the wall at a round wooden table, and they went over there.

Who’s that you got with you? one of them said. Is that DJ? Cold enough for you, boy?

Yes sir. Just about. He took a chair from the next table and sat behind his grandfather.

Just about, he says. Hah.

Don’t tell me you walked over here, another old man said. Walt, you must of about froze your tail off coming down here.

I’ve seen colder, he said.

Everybody’s seen colder. I’m just saying it’s cold.

It’s December, ain’t it, the old man said. Now where’s that waitress? I need something to drink here. I want something to heat up my insides.

She’ll be here. Give her a minute.

Watch her when she comes over, said a red-faced man across the table.

Who is she?

Her name’s Tammy. She’s new.

Who is she?

Reuben DeBaca’s ex-wife from over by Norka. Look her over. Here she comes.

The barmaid came over to the table. She was blonde and good-looking, with wide hips and long legs. She had on tight faded jeans, a deliberate hole in the front of one thigh showing tanned skin underneath, and she wore a white low-cut blouse. When she bent forward to remove two empty glasses from the table, all the old men sitting there watched her closely. Didn’t you just come in? she said to the old man.

Just now, he said.

Why don’t you take your coat off and make yourself at home? You’re going to get too hot, then you’ll catch cold when you go back out. What can I bring you?

Bring me, the old man said. He looked toward the bar. Bring me some kind of drinking whiskey.

What kind? We have Jack Daniel’s and Old Grand-Dad and Bushmills and Jameson’s.

Which is your bar whiskey?

That’s Old Crow.

It’s cheaper, ain’t it.

Is that what you want?

That’s it.

And what about you? she said to DJ.

He glanced at her. A cup of coffee, please.

You drink coffee?

Yes ma’am.

He does, his grandfather said. I can’t stop him. He’s been drinking it ever since he was little.

All right then. Anything else?

Bring the boy some corn chips, one of the men said.

Coffee, corn chips, whiskey. Is that it?

Could you wipe this off over here? the red-faced man said. There’s a spot over here.

She looked at him and bent over and wiped the table with a wet rag, and they all looked down the front of her blouse. Will that do? she said.

It sure helps, he said.

You old bastard, she said. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Acting that way in front of this boy. She went off to get their drinks.

I believe she’s warming up to me, the red-faced man said.

She’d warm up to your bank account a lot faster, one of the others said.

Maybe she would. But a woman like her, you wouldn’t mind spending a little money on her. You got to.

What about her ex-husband?

That’s what I’m talking about. She’s older now. She’s not going to just fold her hands up and sit at home. She wants something better out of life. She knows there’s something more coming her way than a dryland farm out south of Norka.

And you could give it to her.

Why not.

Well, I kind of remember you complaining just last week about how you couldn’t get something in your undershorts to cooperate no more. After that operation you had, where the doctor cut on you.

Well, yeah, he said. There is that. The men at the table all laughed. But a woman like her, he said, she might put some new life in you. She might even manage to raise the dead.

The man next to him slapped him on the back. You just keep thinking that way.

DJ looked toward the bar where the woman was setting out glasses on a tray. Under the blue lights she appeared tall and pretty.

She brought the coffee and corn chips and the whiskey to the table, and his grandfather reached inside the chest pocket of his overalls and drew out his old soft leather wallet and removed his pension check.

What’s this? she said.

My check. From the railroad.

She turned it over and looked at the other side. You want me to cash this?

That’s the usual custom.

You’ll need to sign it, she said.

She handed him a pen, and the old man leaned over the table and stiffly signed his name and gave the pen back together with the check.

I’ll have to see if they will accept this, she said.

They will. I been cashing checks here for years.

I’ll just see, she said, and walked away toward the bar.

What the hell’s a-wrong with her?

She’s just doing her job, Grandpa, DJ whispered.

The old man lifted his tumbler of whiskey and took a long drink. Drink your coffee there, he said to the boy. It won’t do you no good once it gets cold.

The woman came back with a handful of bills and some change and handed the money to the old man. He drew out a dollar bill and gave it to her. Thank you, she said. I never should of questioned you, should I?