CHAPTER 34

The sound of clacking billiard balls resonated throughout the bar from a back room. I stood just inside the doorway to the place, letting my eyes adjust in the lowly lit interior. The Last Chance, Kenny’s bar, was where people came to drink and, more to the point, drink and not be seen. It was the place in town where moneymen passed along orders and plain white envelopes to local politicians in the cozy booths along the wall, judges and lawyers waived ethics and discussed cases, bosses worked late with their secretaries, husbands brought their mistresses and wives brought their lovers. Discretion was the word at The Last Chance and long before it became the motto for Las Vegas, what happened at The Last Chance stayed at The Last Chance.

Earlier in the day, I had attended Tina’s funeral. It was a small one, just a few of her friends, no one I knew but only recognized from her wedding album. Terri was there, of course, with her family and her father. She introduced me to some people who knew Tina. I interviewed them and, riding with Stacey afterward, I worked out the story I planned to write. He dropped me at the Chronicle and I wrote and filed the story with Hoppy. I even gave Hoppy a few photos of Tina from happier times that Terri had lent me. I’d kept my bargain with Terri. Now, I was keeping my promise to Sue Ellen.

Across the darkness of the room was the bar itself, an oasis of vibrant glowing bottle shapes and sizes displayed with cool white back lighting beckoning the parched and weary. Finally I could see well enough to start moving further inside without worrying about crashing into tables or chairs.

Stacey was sitting in a counter stool at the corner of the bar. I could make out his large silhouette, if not yet his features. He’d driven me over here and we’d agreed that he’d go in first, give the place the once over, and watch to see what kind of reaction I stirred up from the patrons or staff. A few heads turned, a few people looked up from their drinks, but I put that down to idle curiosity, just checking out the new guy in the place.

There were a few empty swivel barstools with backs and armrests stationed along the bar. I liked barstools with backs and armrests. Always felt secure, safe, sitting in one. It had never happened to me, but I’d seen more than one guy, sitting on a regular old barstool, who tilted back to down that one last shot and kept right on going, crashing to the floor, landing on his back, and bouncing his head on the floor, his feet perched on the stool cushion where he’d sat only moments before. I swiveled the seat my way, sat down and rotated to belly up to the copper topped bar.

“Hi,” I said to the bartender when she came over. “Kenny around?”

She was attractive and blonde, hair in a classic bob shape and tucked behind her ears, probably in her late-twenties. She was wearing a tight light blue denim long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The shirt, with “Last Chance” stitched on the breast pocket, was pulled up and tied at the bottom, revealing a svelte midriff with an emerald stud piercing her navel. The tightness of the shirt accentuated her ample breasts, and she had the top four buttons of the shirt undone to display the upper edges of a black lace bra and her cavernous cleavage. She had on tight white shorts. Chances were great she made a very healthy living off tips.

“I think he’s in the back.” She turned her head and called out in a jarringly loud voice to a guy sitting on a stool outside a closed door toward the back of the bar, “Billy, tell Kenny’s there’s someone to see him.” She turned back to me and in a softer, sweeter voice asked, “What’s your name, darling?”

“Byrne, Wes Byrne,” I answered.

She turned her head back to guy in the chair and again with that jarring voice called out, “Says his name is Wes Byrne.”

The guy in the chair got up and went through the door.

She turned back to me and, in that sweet voice, asked, “Can I get you something while you’re waiting?”

“Sure can. Double Powers, a couple cubes of ice, with water back,” I said.

“Coming right up,” she answered and turned to walk over to where the Powers sat on an upper shelf of the bottle display behind the bar, looking as good leaving as she did coming. She came back with the bottle, grabbed two rocks glasses from underneath the bar, and laid them on the counter. She dropped a few ice cubes and poured a very healthy amount of Powers into one of the glasses and filled the other about a quarter way with water from a soda dispenser.

“Do you want to pay now or run a tab?” she asked.

“I’ll run a tab, I guess--and put that guy over there’s next drink on it as well,” I said.

“Who--Stacey? You know Stacey? Better put a limit on it, if you want my advice,” she said, half-jokingly. “I haven’t seen you in here before. I’m Audra. Are you new in town or just visiting?” she asked, leaning over the bar a bit, and I could see a small, multi-colored tattoo of a butterfly on the inside of her left tit. I tried hard not to stare, casting my eyes down at the bar counter.

“Um, just visiting, used to live here, back to see old friends,” I answered as I took a very quick swallow of my drink--a little too quick, a little too big of a swallow. The whiskey stalled about half way down my throat for a moment or two, thought about coming back up, the continued on its intended journey. I couldn’t help letting out a few choking coughs. Audra stood up straighter and stepped back, a mixture of concern and fear on her face.

“You okay? Maybe you should have a drink of water,” she said. “I can pour you some more.”

I nodded through a few last coughs and reached out for the rocks glass with the water in it.

“Here,” she said, pulling up the soda dispenser and pushing the water button on it just as I lifted the glass to take a sip. The water shot out from the dispenser, hitting the copper topped bar right where my glass had just been, bouncing off, up, and soaking the front of my shirt.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching for a bar towel. “Here, let me dry you off.”

I heard Stacey stifling a laugh from his perch at the bar.

“N--No, that’s o--okay,” I stammered, as she reached across the counter to pat me off, dabbing me gently once or twice. Now I could see a small daisy tattooed on her right tit, and it became obvious that butterfly on her left one was fluttering in the direction of the flower. This time she caught me looking and gave me a knowing sort of smile. I felt heat rising on my face and neck.

Luckily, at that moment, the large guy from Kenny’s door approached. He looked at the scene dubiously.

“Um, Kenny said he’ll see you. Come with me.”

“Thanks,” I said, getting quickly off my bar stool. “Um...I’ll be back to settle my tab,” I said to Audra, grabbing my Powers, but leaving the water. I figured if I need a chaser, I’d just suck my shirt.

“I’ll be here, and...um, the next one’s on me,” she said with a laugh, using the towel to wipe the counter dry.

I followed the big guy past Stacey, his head lowered to avoid eye contact and body shaking to control his laughter, and back to the door the large guy had been tending.

He knocked three times, turned the doorknob, opened the door inward, and stepped aside so I could pass into the office. He reached in as I passed, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled the door closed behind me.