I shook my head. “Thanks, but no. I’m comfortable.”
The younger man pursed his lips and nodded. “Have a good evening.”
“Thank you. You too,” I said and turned away from the bikers.
The front door of the bar was mostly glass, which was encouraging. Bars that had too many one-percenters usually had solid doors and few windows. The collateral damage thing tended to make regular glass costly to maintain.
I went in. The bar wasn’t huge, but it had a few booths on the right wall and a dozen or so high tables that took up most of the area between the door and the bar. Off to my left were two pool tables, both occupied by a couple of players and a couple more observers. The main bar was only about ten percent full; it was around five p.m., so the lack of a crowd didn’t surprise me. Only about four women were among the dozen or so men. Most everyone was dressed in jeans, shit-kicker boots, and denim or leather jackets. Some wore club colors, and most I could see from the door were AMA sanctioned single patches. Which was good. A few one-percenters didn’t bother me, but I didn’t want to be a stranger in one of their private haunts.
I crossed the stained hardwood floor past several tables to the bar. There was one bartender working, and it looked like he mostly served shots or beer. Not much call for white wine in this place, I thought. Taking a stool near the right end of the bar left me four stools between the nearest biker and me. The older man, another of the one-percenters, lowered his mug long enough to give me the once over, but then went back to studying his beer.
“What’ll it be, young lady?” the bartender asked as he wiped his hands on a towel leaned on the backside of the bar.
“I was told that if I talk nicely to you, I could get a hamburger,” I said and gave the middle-aged man a warm smile.
He cocked his head to one side, and his eyebrows twitched. Odd, I thought.
“Yeah, I can do you a hamburger. What do you want on it?” he asked.
“Catsup, mustard, and pickles,” I said and then added, “And onions, if you have them.” Screw Rafe, he could put up with my bad breath.
“All right, pink okay or do you want it more done?”
“Pink is great and how about a Tecate,” I said noticing the draft dispenser.
“You’ll need to have identification for that beer,” he said.
I fished my little wallet from a zippered jacket pocket and slid out the glamoured business card Rafe had spelled for me. The bartender gave the card a good look and then slid it back across the bar to me. I glanced at it before I returned it to my wallet. To me, without the benefit of Rafe’s enhanced senses, the card looked like a normal Texas driver’s license and even had a not very flattering picture of me. It stated my birthdate correctly, except for the year. Rafe had added a couple years to my age so I wouldn’t have issues like this. I might only be twenty, but I could pass for twenty-two.
“I’ll get you the beer and then start your hamburger,” the bartender said as he moved down the bar toward the draft dispensers.
I watched him go. He was in good shape for a bartender. His jeans were snug against his cheeks, and the man looked like he would clean up well. I smiled to myself. Hell, I couldn’t still be horny after that session with Rafe, but then maybe that was what I needed, a little variety. It wasn’t as if I had had a lot of sexual partners. In the three years before I met Rafe, I’d had three partners, and they had been little more than boys. Maybe Rafe would appreciate me more if I found someone else to work out my frustrations on.
The bartender came back and set a large mug of foaming beer in front of me.
“I’ll start your hamburger now. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Sure, thanks,” I said. I lifted the beer and took a deep pull, draining a quarter of the mug. I licked at the foam on my upper lip and nodded. Good and cold, just the way beer was meant to be. I took off my sunglasses and slipped them into a pocket.
I had downed about half the beer before I decided to nurse the remainder until my burger arrived. I didn’t have a lot of experience drinking, but if I didn’t drink beer too fast, I could still ride my bike back to the motel. I damn sure didn’t want to have to call a cab and then explain to Rafe where I’d left my bike. I wasn’t worried about him being upset about it, it just sounded beneath a Wanderer or even an Apprentice Wanderer.
My burger arrived in about ten minutes. I downed the rest of my beer and ordered another one.
I finished my burger and was watching the people at the pool tables and wondering if I could get into a game. I played a lot of pool after joining the Army, and while not great at it, I did have fun playing.
The room blurred and then cleared when I blinked.
What was that? The room blurred again, but this time, it didn’t clear when
