On a Saturday night, Bonnie found the Camp Nelson Saloon, the only watering hole for thirty miles, crowded with locals from every corner of the county. Most of the patrons seemed to be having a good time, laughing, drinking, smoking, bopping to the country music on the jukebox, playing cards or backgammon at the tables. But a cluster of bikers at the bar, their voices drowned out by the general din, appeared to be giving the bartender a hard time.
Rudy greeted Bonnie at the door.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. “They wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“What was the question?” Bonnie asked.
“Hey, there she is,” one of the bikers yelled, waving her over with a gesture that looked like a command. He was well over six feet, ruddy faced, wore a heavily patched denim vest and a red bandana. Bonnie started forward, took her time crossing the floor. Rudy followed close behind.
“What seems to be the problem?” Bonnie asked.
She counted five of them altogether. They hopped off their stools, formed a semicircle around her and Rudy.
“I was hoping you could tell us,” the one who’d called her over said. “Did we offend you somehow?”
“I don’t understand,” Bonnie said.
“Seems the prices have been raised, but only on what we like to drink.”
“You mean the draft beers?” Bonnie asked.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”
Bonnie knew this was coming. In fact, she’d hoped it was coming. The man wasn’t wrong: she wanted him and his entourage gone. They were rowdy, coarse. Their motorcycles disturbed her guests. They disturbed her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but the distributor raised his prices. I had no choice.”
“He gouges you, so you gouge us. Is that it?”
“It’s business,” Rudy said. “You’d have done the same.”
“Don’t tell me what I would’ve done.”
The bikers surrounding them folded their arms, shifted their weight back and forth. Bonnie sensed a wrong turn coming.
“Look,” she said, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience. How about a pitcher on the house?”
“How about you keep the prices where they were?”
“Sorry, can’t do it,” Bonnie said.
To her dismay, she realized she was guilty of the very complaint she’d just leveled against Jim: she had the power to say no, and she was enjoying it.
“Well, then you and your little houseboy are in for a tough time.”
Rudy stepped forward; Bonnie put a hand on his chest.
“If you can’t be civil, then you need to leave now,” she told the man.
He grinned.
“Sorry, you prissy skank,” he said, “but we were here first.”
He reached behind him, took his drink from the bar, held it out toward Bonnie, then slowly and deliberately let go. The glass exploded at her feet. Beer soaked her sneakers and jeans. She jumped back just as Rudy sprung forward. The whole bar was watching now. Before Bonnie could register what was happening, Rudy had the man’s arm up behind his back and was running him outside. The entourage followed on their heels.
Kelly, the tall and emaciated bartender who’d come with the place, handed her new boss a rag while making only the slightest attempt to hide her smirk. Well, Bonnie thought, it’s clear whose side you’re on.
Rudy came back. His hair was disheveled but he appeared otherwise unscathed.
“Are you all right?” Bonnie asked.
Rudy nodded. They heard the bikes firing up in the lot.
“I wouldn’t count on this being over, though,” he said.
He put a hand on her shoulder. She was about to take it when she noticed that all eyes remained fixed on her. She cupped her hands around her mouth, shouted: “Next round is on the house.”
* * *
“I’m telling you, it was nothing,” Bonnie said. “A simple misunderstanding.”
They were lying in bed under the skylight with a fire winding down across the room.
“Really?” Jim said. “Because you came back drenched in beer and looking white as a sheet.”
He seemed genuinely worried, and Bonnie felt a pang of guilt as she realized she didn’t even want that much from him anymore.
“I promise, it’s all fine,” she said. “But now I really need to get some sleep.”
She rolled onto her side, fought back a gasp when she spotted what looked like a male figure watching them through a part in the curtains. She leapt out of bed, started for the window, watched the figure dart off.
“What is it?” Jim asked.
“Just shutting the curtain,” she said.