In 1989 somebody painted it all over a dark blue, windows included, put in a bar and a bunch of cheap tables and chairs, installed a spinning strobe light in the high center of the room, hired a bunch of waitresses to work topless, and The Starlight Lounge was born.
It was still bright daylight when I parked there at 5:20 in the afternoon. There were a couple of motorcycles parked outside and a truck full of cement sidings was nosed in at an angle taking a space and a half, as if the crew hadn't been able to wait a moment longer when quitting time came.
The inside of the place was painted the same dark blue as the outside. I took off my sunglasses and waited for my pupils to dilate. The strobe reflector in the ceiling turned slowly, scattering the light like confetti. There was heavy rock music playing. I didn't recognize it, but I didn't expect to. All rock music sounded to me like glass being ground.
To my right there was a long nearly empty bar, where once maybe there had been a soda fountain. I went over and leaned on the end of it. One of the bartenders came down to get my order. He was wide faced and curly haired with the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up over his thick freckled arms. He put a paper napkin down on the bar in front of me and said, 'What'll it be?'
'Got any draft beer?' I said.
'Nope. Bottle only.'
'Got any New Amsterdam Black and Tan?'
The bartender grinned at me.
'You got to be shitting,' he said.
'What have you got?' I said.
'Bud, Bud Light, Heineken.'
'Bud,' I said.
The bartender got me a long neck, popped the cap, put a glass beside it, and went away. I looked around the room. The guys from the forms truck were at a big table down the bar drinking beer and making small talk with the waitresses. There were two guys in motorcycle jackets at another table, and there were four waitresses. All of them bare chests and short shorts and a lot of hair.
Leaning on the far end of the bar opposite me was a guy with a round head and sloping shoulders. He too was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled. The music banged away through a couple of speakers up high somewhere in the dark blue top of the dim room. I drank my beer. The bartender returned.
'You want another one?' he said.
'Not yet,' I said.
'Who's in charge of this joint at the moment?'
'In charge?'
'Yeah. There a manager or anyone?'
'Me and Vie, I guess,' the bartender said.
'Vie the guy at the other end of the bar?'
'Yeah. Mostly he's the bouncer. It get real busy he comes back here with me. But usually one man can handle it. It's a beer crowd, not a lotta mixed drinks, you know.'
'How about if the bouncer end gets real busy.'
'Oh, sure, I'll come around, give him a hand. But Vie don't usually need much help. Whaddya need?'
'I'm a private cop, looking for a guy's missing,' I said.
'I want to show his picture around to the waitresses, see if any of them know him.'
'Yeah?'
'I don't want trouble from Vie, or you,' I said.
The bartender shrugged.
'I don't see no harm to it,' he said. He turned and jerked his head at Vie, and turned back to me.
'You got some sort of license or something you want to show me?' he said.
I took out my wallet and showed him. Vie moved down the bar toward us, casual, just strolling down to see what's up. Nothing he wouldn't be able to handle. Up close he was shorter than I was, but thick, and long armed. His short crew cut was flecked with gray.
There was some buildup of scar tissue around his eyes, and his nose was thick and flat.
'Guy's a private eye,' the bartender said.
'Wants to ask around after a missing person. I said I didn't have no problem with that.
You?'
'He show you something?' Vie said. His voice was a soft rasp.
'Yeah. He's legit.'
'You make the piece?' Vie said to the bartender. The bartender grinned.
'Right side, back on his hip,' the bartender said.
