They walked outside and into the tavern entrance to the Fisherman Hideaway.
Charlie and Jim sat at the bar. One of the most beautiful women Jim had ever seen came down the long polished bar to greet them. Jim suddenly felt grubby with his unshaven face. He was d
“Hi Charlie, the usual Pabst Blue Ribbon?” the strawberry blond bartender asked.
“You know me too well, Mary. What’s your poison, Jim?” Charlie asked.
“Is it possible in a tavern that you’d have unsweetened iced-tea?” Jim stuttered. “If not, I’ll have a coffee.”
“We have anything you want in here,” she said. She moved down the bar to an under the bar cooler and pulled out a bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, brought it back, popped the lid, poured most of it into a frosted glass and placed both in front of Charlie. Then she went through a swinging door into what Jim assumed was a kitchen.
“That’s Mary Brooks. She’s a sweetheart. You order from her once, she always remembers.”
“She’ll think I’m a wimp or something ordering iced-tea,” Jim said. “And a tramp, the way I look.”
“Not Mary. She won’t judge you. It will set you apart. She will definitely remember you,” Charlie chuckled.
“Here you go,” Mary said putting a frosty glass of tea in front of Jim. “Who’s your friend?” she asked Charlie while she studied Jim.
“Mary, meet my new fishing partner, Jim Howard. He fished with me today. Jim, Mary Brooks.”
Mary reached across the bar and took just the tips of Jim’s fingers in hers. I’m pleased to meet any friend of Charlie’s, although I’ve never heard of him taking anyone on before,” she said. “He must think you’re special. You from around here?”
“Just came in from Colorado,” Jim said.
“I’d take you fishing anytime, Mary,” Charlie said winking at her.
“I’m sure you tell all the girls that, you handsome Devil,” Mary laughed.
Jim smiled at the easy repartee between Mary and Charlie. I’d give anything to have that with her, he thought.
The tavern was busy and Mary moved efficiently back and forth along the bar, pouring beer and mixing drinks for the two other waitresses covering the floor. Most of the beer was into mugs from several taps. Jim noticed a marked contrast in the provocative dress of the floor waitresses and the conservative dress of the bartender, Mary, whose blouse fastened to the top button. She also wore loose slacks.
Regardless of Mary’s attire, he couldn’t help but admire her grace, beautiful face, long, rich blond hair that hung down past her shoulders, and definitely feminine figure that she kept hidden from the rest of the room from behind the bar. He was suddenly glad that she didn’t flaunt herself to the men in the tavern. She has too much class for that, he thought.
Autographed copies of Incessant Expectations by Kenneth Fenter available at arborwoodpress.com Also available at Amazon.com
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