"What can I do ya for?" calls the bartender at the West Brook Inn as I duck into the door.
The square whitewashed building is tucked into the corner of Bound Brook wedged between the Raritan River and the Middle Brook, southern and western boundaries for the flood prone town. It's my usual stop after the three-mile run home from JM Field to my home just around the corner.
"Bottle of Bud" I respond sliding onto a stool at the bottom edge of the L-shaped bar and noticing the photographer perched at the top edge and scanning images on her laptop.
"Big day tomorrow" comments the tender sliding my longneck over. "Are the Minutemen ready?"
"The trainers are and the baseball cards will soon be" I answer nodding toward the camerawoman whose dark bangs brush black-rimmed glasses as she leans over her work.
"One more!" bellowed a big guy at the middle of the bar, and I see her quick frown come and go.
__________
"Mais chopp!" bellowed a guy sitting alone at a table near the dance floor as I ducked into the club where my mother waited tables.
She had told us to never go there, but I needed to tell her what the American had said about going to school in New Jersey. So I walked into the city at dusk and waited on the corner until there was no one near the entrance, slipping into a dark corner. A waitress backed out of the kitchen door carrying a tray of drinks, her tight shirt and short skirt briefly framed by the bright light until the door swung closed. It wasn't her.
The purple stage lights started flashing as men at tables clapped to the beat of a samba blaring from the big speakers. A pretty woman in stiletto heels, tight sliver pants, and long dark hair draped over a white tank top danced onto the stage. A quick hand to the mouth stifled my gasp, and I slipped back out of Class Night Clube.
___________
"Refill Joao?" quips the West Brook tender.
"Nah, one after a run is good, two just makes me go to bed early."
"I hear ya" he replies. "I also hear Paul Paulino's back in town. Wasn't he a prick before he went off to college baseball in Florida?"
"Some things never change" I manage, sliding the tall stool back to go, but not before I see the Topps photographer flash a quick smile.
No comments:
Post a Comment