Christmas Plans
“Emily,” called Spider, the vice-president of Hades’ Spawn, “another beer.”
“Can’t you see she’s busy?” said Saks, who sat next to Spider. “Damn, give the woman a break.”
She held up a finger, asking Spider to give her a minute as she tried to end the call with her sister. “Angela,” she implored, “I’ve gotam to go.”
“But we’ll see you at Sunday dinner, right?” Angela’s soft voice carried a note of urgency over the line.
“Yes, yes,” said Emily, unable to disguise her exasperation. “We'll be there. I gotta go. Bye.” She clicked off the call and stuck her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. Her eyes swept over the clubhouse to check on the progress of the club members with their drinks. To the left of her was the alcove that held two pool tables. On the wall, painted gray lavender blazed the Hades’ Spawn symbol, a skull sitting on top of a set of wings. To the front and right of her from the bar’s perspective sat eight tables with chairs around them. On the furthest wall leaned a jukebox recently installed. The Spawn and their women were engaged in conversation. It was a usual evening for the clubhouse.
She wished she had more time to talk with Angela. She loved her sister. But being wife, mother, accountant for their business, and now fill-in bartender for the Hades’ Spawn clubhouse bar, she didn’t have time to talk to her.
Which was a shame. When she and Angela married their respective husbands, the time they had to spend together shrank. Emily supposed that was the reason Angela became insistent that they eat together for Sunday dinner at their parents’ house.
“Where’s George?” asked Saks.
“Flu,” said Emily as she set a bottle of Spider’s favorite beer in front of him.
“Yeah,” said Saks sourly. “By the name of Cindy. Luke never should have hired that guy.”
“Hey,” said Emily with a smile, “it’s not often you find a guy who can repair Harley’s and tend bar.”
Both Saks and Spider cracked smiles. The inside joke was that while George, aka Crash, loved to tell everyone of his many talents, he had yet to prove any of them, including being able to repair Harleys.
“Okay,” she said to both Saks and Spider. “What kind of bike do you think Luke would like?”
“You really going to get him a new bike for Christmas?” Saks whistled. “That’s some nice gift.”
“He deserves it after all he’s been through,” said Emily.
It was true. Their first year was rife with separations, the death of dear friend, internal club problems, hiccups with Luke’s immigration status, involvement with the DEA, and a gang war. This whole year was about bringing their son Robbie into the world and making Luke’s motorcycle repair business profitable again. They worked hard, but Luke, after the financial deprecations of the first year, was tight-fisted with cash. Except for one vacation, which was helped by a belated wedding gift from her parents, they hadn’t done a thing for themselves.
But Emily had been saving money from extra accounting work she took on, which she did at home or the shop. She saved enough to get Luke a new bike. Except, the problem was that Luke loved all Harleys, and it was difficult to find that special one that would make his eyes gleam with extra appreciation and pride. Plus, she had no idea. She knew a bit, but realistically she had no clue.
“Damn, I wish my wife would buy me a new bike,” Saks sighed wistfully.
She slapped his arm playfully with a bar towel. “Well, you have to get a wife before she can do that for you. Are you even dating anyone?”
“Nah,” said Saks with a laugh. “Been too busy working for that slave-driving husband of yours.”
“That’s an excuse,” she said. “You’re not working now. What happened to Wanda? I thought you and she were getting along pretty good.”
Saks shrugged his shoulders. “All that mess with the club last year blew that out of the water. She might have been slinging coffee, but her family’s very prim and proper. Didn’t want their little girl going out with a criminal biker.”
“Oh shit. Sorry,” said Emily. She knew what that was like. Despite the arrival of Robbie, her father still acted cold and formal around Luke. But for Saks, it was even tougher because the dust-up with the DEA brought to light Saks’ familial relationship with the local wise guys. Twice tainted, the motorcycle club and organized crime, wholesome, marriage-minded ladies gave him a jaundiced eye. And he didn’t deserve it. Out of all the Spawn he was the cleanest cut, and a very nice guy as well.
“And what? You haven’t dated anyone since?”
“Been busy,” Saks mumbled then took a shot of his drink. Then the subject closed like a door slamming shut.
One of the club patrons motioned to her at the end of the bar, wanting to put in his order. It was a good thing that the Spawn were simple drinkers. The most complicated thing any of the bikers ordered was a variant of alcohol and soda. But this time the last item on the order threw her.
“A Hairy Eyeball?”
“Sure,” said Mac, “everyone knows what a Hairy Eyeball is. Don’t they, fellas?”
Mac was a hanger-on, not even a probie to the Spawn, but definitely a prankster. Emily was sure she was being played. But when the consensus of the room was, yeah, everyone knew what a Hairy Eyeball was, she had to go along. “Sure thing,” she said, not sure what to do. But she faked a confident smile and moved closer to Saks and gave him an imploring look. He started playing with his phone and then Emily felt a buzz in her back pocket.
Saks: Try this. Crushed pineapple, bitters, tomato juice, vermouth, and for sparkles, a ring of salt around the rim.
Emily: Yuck! That sounds awful.
Saks: Serves him right.
Emily salted the rim, leaving the glass upside down in the salt on the bar for Mac to notice.
“What’re you doing?” said Mac.
“Making your drink,” said Emily confidently.
“That doesn’t look like the start of a Hairy Eyeball.”
“Sure it does,” said Emily with a smile. “Doesn’t it, Spider?”
“Looks like a Hairy Eyeball to me,” he affirmed with a wink to Emily
“Me too,” piped up Saks. Faced with the confirmation by the vice-president and the road captain of the Spawn, Mac was powerless to contradict them.
Emily then mottled pineapple slices and put them in a metal shaker along with the rest of the ingredients and shook the concoction.
“You’ll love it,” said Saks slyly. “Emily makes the best Hairy Eyeballs in Connecticut.”
“Why, thank you, Saks.” She poured the cocktail into the salted glass. For giggles, she stuck the largest pimento olive she had through the center with an extra-long toothpick and put it in the glass.
“What do you think, fellas?” said Emily, holding the glass up to inspection by the members of the club. “Is this not the best Hairy Eyeball you’ve ever seen?”
The club members, smelling hanger-on blood, readily agreed with an assortment of yesses.
Emily set the drink in front of Mac. “There you go,” she said, unable to stop the grin from escaping. “Drink up.”
Mac’s face blanched white now. Not only was it the ugliest drink anyone had ever seen, he’d witnessed the quantity of vermouth and bitters she’d put in. This would make it gut-wrenchingly dry and sour. He hesitated. “Well, it’s not for me.”
“Not you, Mac? Who else would it be for? Sammers at your table likes his beer, and Pike likes his Jack and Coke, so it must be for you.”
Saks stood up and put his hand on Mac’s shoulder. “Drink up, like the lady says,” he said with a predatory smile.
Mac picked up the glass, prepared to toss the whole thing down his throat, but Saks put his hand on his arm.
“No. Sip it, like you should.”
Mac looked around the room and saw all the Hades’ Spawn eyes on him. He knew he couldn’t back out, so he took a sip and winced, then another and grimaced. On the third he put the glass down and ran for the bathroom with his hand over his mouth.
The men around the bar laughed hard as he sprinted past.
“Good one, Em,” said Spider, after almost choking on his beer.
Saks put his finger in the drink and experimentally licked it and stuck out his tongue. “Oh, that is awful,” he said. “Good job, Emily.”
“That should teach him not to prank the bartender,” Emily said with a wide grin.
“Who’s pranking the bartender?” Luke walked in through the front door amid a swirl of frosty December air pushing in after him, prompting members to yell to shut the door.
“Don’t worry about it, boss,” said Saks. “Emily took care of it. Made a great Hairy Eyeball.”
“Hairy Eyeball? There isn’t a drink like that.”
“There is now,” said Spider with a laugh. “You should put it on the drink menu, along with a prize for anyone who can drink it and keep it down.”
Luke slipped behind the bar and put his arm around Emily’s waist. “Are you causing trouble again?” he said with a smile.
“I plead self-defense.” She grinned and leaned against him, inhaling his musky scent.
“Here,” said Saks, pushing the glass toward him. “Give it a taste.”
Luke glanced down and frowned. “No, thanks, I trust your word.” He kissed Emily. “How’s business?”
“The usual.”
“Good,” he said.
That moment another blast of cold air rushed into the room as Oakie, the club president, strolled in. Most of the occupants of the bar greeted him enthusiastically, except for Luke and Saks. Luke opened the cash register to count to the money, but Emily noticed he clenched his jaw and avoided looking at Oakie. He was still angry over how Oakie had thrown him out of the club based on the word of Pepper, an implanted DEA agent with ulterior motives. Even reinstating Luke hadn’t sealed the breach.
Emily loved her husband with her entire soul, but it troubled her that Luke couldn’t forgive and forget the incident. Oakie had been a father figure to Luke and, despite Oakie’s trouble with the law and imprisonment, Luke supported him whole heartedly. Luke considered the club president’s actions a betrayal that disrespected Luke’s loyalty to him. To this day, Luke paid the minimum attention he could to the man.
Oakie worked the room, greeting individual members, slapping his hand on their backs and making jokes. Emily turned to washing bar glasses, and Luke continued to count money while Saks and Spider nursed their drinks.
Finally, Oakie made his way to the bar. “Spider, Saks, how’s it going?”
“Good,” said Saks, “for a cold Friday.”
“Hey, Luke,” Oakie called out suddenly. “Have you considered a Christmas party? I’m sure the club can spot cash for the food.”
Luke stopped counting money but continued to keep his head down, eyeing the cash. “Haven’t thought about it, but if the club wants it I wouldn’t be opposed. Hey Saks,” said Luke, diverting his attention to his employee. “Why aren't you going on about wanting to go to Florida right now?
“Nah, you know I can’t leave you shorthanded.”
“More like Saks’ family—” started Spider, but Saks gave him a sharp look to cut him off.
“What?” said Luke. “What don’t I know about?”
“Nothing,” said Saks. “Just drop it.”
Oakie frowned. Emily assumed it was from Luke ignoring him. Maybe that was why he raised his voice so everyone could hear him.
“I think,” said Oakie, “a Christmas party is a great idea.” He turned toward the crowd in the bar. “What do you think? Let’s take a vote. All those for a Christmas party raise their hand.”
Along with a round of “hell, yes,” nearly every club member put up their hands.
“There you go, Luke. Emily, can you handle the planning?”
Emily sent a puff of air up to her bangs, “I suppose,” she replied.
“Good,” said Oakie. “We’ll allocate some money for it. Let me know how much.”
“Sure.” She glanced at Luke, wishing she could read his face.
“And Luke,” said Oakie. “The Sergeant-At-Arms job is still open. I want you to take it.”
Luke drew most of the money from the cash register and ran the X tape that totaled the sales, but didn’t close out the machine. He pushed the drawer shut a little too hard. “And I’ve told you, Oakie, I’m too busy. Sorry. Find someone else to handle the club’s finances. Saks, can you watch things for another hour, and then kick these guys out the door?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“Come on, Em. Let’s get Robbie and go home.”