Good Job You Handsome Boy!

The bilious sot, all-too-familiar with the ailments of drink, steadied himself and called out haphazardly, “What’s a guy gotta do to git a drink around here?!” Showing little sign of having heard the order, Charlie poured out number eight, another Black Butte, while printing the man's tab. Distracted by Jack’s entrance, Charlie averted his eyes as he dropped the drink and check together, saying assertively, "There you go, bud."
"Naw holdsh it, boy!" slurred the man, as his tarnished face crinkled disapprovingly, "Whats the fuck--am I supposed ta do withish?," he finished in a tone both jocular and derisive, forcibly catching Charlie's eyes as he lifted the bill, paper and hand crinkled angrily, shaking in protestation. Breaking through his facile humor, Charlie fastened in on the man’s glazed and overtly enlarged pupils, confidently leaned over the bar top in a bulldog-like stance, his left palm flat and his right forearm pressed parallel with the length of the bar so that his shoulders curled robustly forward, and challengingly barked, "It means you're done."
"Noo I'm not!" the man sputtered vociferously, his eyes widening as he rose to the challenge.
"Pay your tab and get the fuck out of my bar; you're done," snapped Charlie, taking back the Black Butte with experienced composure and austerity. Chagrined by Charlie’s youthful contumacy and convicted of an aged man's freedom to unrestricted intoxication, the codger spit out several brash epithets, leapt up from his seat and defiantly slammed the barstool backward to the ground.
Before the stool’s reckless clatter abated, its antagonist was whisked away, as though victim to a savage torrent, Jack’s youthful strength and machismo vibrating as he tumbled the man to the front door, finally shoving him to the harsh pavement outside.
"What's the matter with you?!...Old piece of shit!," he barked disdainfully. A harsh wind ripped by, forcing Jack back inside, slamming the door closed behind him. Upon reentering, Jack was inundated by a thick mixture of alcohol, bravado, cackling, and the indulgent applaud of thirsty guests--some tipsy, others shit-faced, all twenty-something and horny; the typical Friday night herd.
"Old piece of shit," laughed Charlie as he leaned over the bar top and pounded fists with Jack in convivial gratitude, “How ya been, man?”
Cutting short Jack’s reply, a vivacious young tart chimed in, “I am so glad you got rid of that old guy; he was really fuckin’ creepy and he smelled like shit; that was really impressive, by the way...I sure wouldn’t mind being roughed around like that...," she said lustily, unashamed of such a trite, poorly delivered one-liner. As Jack took a seat next to her, she leaned toward him and groped his knee with unexpected familiarity. Flashing her eyes seductively, she slowly pulled away her hand, turned, and left for the restroom. Jack returned the stranger’s affection with a wry smile.
"How 'bout that Black Butte?," Jack said as he turned toward Charlie and hinted at the previously removed glass. Charlie, understanding, succumbed with a jovial nod.
“Geez baby, what was that all about?,” Amy said from behind Jack. She was dressed in full uniform, obviously flustered, yet radiant and beautiful.
"Oh hey, baby! Ah, just some loser...he slammed down his barstool so, I don't know, I just got rid of 'im...old bastard wouldn't behave himself."
“I really wish you wouldn’t do stuff like that; it scares me.”
"Oh stop it. That old fart couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to.”
"I know, I know; I still wish that you would be more careful, though, you never know who you might come across; you don’t know, he could have had a knife, or even a gun, or something.”
“Oh, come on, it was just a drunk old man; anybody could have seen that. He gets worked up like that every Friday night; it's like clockwork, you know? and you've got to admit it's worth a laugh."
“I’m just saying...you never know. There’s only so much you can tell about a person.”
“Anyways," Jack said, changing the subject, "you haven’t given me a hug or kiss or anything yet; I’ve missed you.” Tugging Amy in close to his body, he kissed her on the lips, “How’s your night been?”
“Oh, it’s been okay; it’s been really freakin’ busy; I think I’ll need to have a drink or two...” Amy paused and smiled, “or maybe three or four tonight.” Both laughed.
“Well, y’know, if you’re in the mood, I think I can get one for us tonight,” Jack said with an air of secrecy and caution, lifting his brow and biting his lower lip with an importuning nod.
"Oh!--you mean the one that was--that would be incredible, actually,” her eyes flashed, “I’ve really been in the mood lately; Oh good baby! I was hoping...," a grin of slightly embarrassed excitement overtook her expression as she leaned forward and pecked Jack on the cheek, "Sounds like a date! I better get back to my tables, though. Good job you handsome boy!"
On her way back to the dining room, Jack watched as Amy passed the girl returning from the restroom. The two of them, he thought to himself, appeared empty, or hollow, and there was something wonderfully masochistic, something depraved and relentless in their demeanors.
“They look like a pair from the Bunny Ranch,” he murmured to himself.
The girl approached closer and reclaimed her seat, again using Jack’s leg for leverage.
"So,” Jack said with deliberation, “you were hoping to get beat up tonight, were ya?"
"Yes sir, I am, but you shouldn’t be so confident, I can put up quite the fight," she responded playfully.
“Well, in that case, I might need some back up, don’t ya think?”
Not understanding, “No offense, but yeah, I really think you will, you kinda look like a pussy.”
“Haha, that’s good to hear; the more the merrier, right? Whateya drinkin’?”
“AMF.”
Jack leaned forward, grabbing Charlie’s attention, and called her a drink. At this moment, the lights in the bar deeply lowered, blanketing the cigarette haze in its pall, shadow and smoke mingling to thicken the Happy Hour dim. Their visages now skewed in darkness, each appeared more attractive in the other’s eyes. Within a moment, Charlie dropped the AMF between them, and it, like so many other barriers, seemed imbued with dark, superficial beauty.
“So, what’s your name muscle man?”
“It’s Jack.”
“Ooo that’s manly, I should have guessed,” she replied teasingly.
“Okay, smart-ass, and what might your name be?”
“It’s Daisy,” she said, attempting a southern accent.
Jack joined in with an equally poor attempt, “Wayall, I thank its a beautiful nayme for a beautiful gayal.”
“Why, thank ye, I thank so too,” she extended her wrist daintily. Jack lightly cradled her fingertips toward his face and kissed the back of her hand. The two of them laughed.
“You know, it’s funny, when I was in elementary school the kids would quack at me because my name reminded them of Daisy Duck, and I hated it, oh God, I hated it. Can you believe that? I used to think it was so ugly.”
“So what changed your mind?”
“You know, I’m not sure, it’s just such a timeless name and its unique, too.”
“Well, it’s definitely unique.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“I was being serious, I think unique is beautiful; one of the most beautiful things in the world, in fact.”
“Wow, somebody wants to get laid tonight,” she replied mockingly, mollifying the insult with a seductive grin. Jack lifted her hand, still clutched in his own, and gave it another kiss.
“You have no idea,” he said in a low, depraved tone.
Curious to see her husband’s advancement, Amy returned to the bar and peered, with much difficulty, through its murky vicinity. With deliberate scrutiny, she noted her husband’s smile, the imposing closeness between he and Daisy, and what looked like Daisy’s hand resting comfortably upon his mid-thigh. The expression on Amy’s face at this moment was ambivalent, evincing the same hollowness Jack had noticed minutes before, but oddly curtailed under a wry, effusive grin. Amy returned to this spot several times throughout her shift, the expression on her face intensifying as the night went on. Three hours later, five drinks each, her shift was over and she returned to the bar for the final time that night.
“Here you go Charlie,” she said, handing him his tip-out.
“Damn girl, I usually have to take some clothes off to get this kind of money!”
“Oh you’re so cute, come here,” Amy replied with motherly condescension. “Mmmmwhah,” she kissed him on the lips and gave him three soft, playful slaps on the cheek.
“Have a good night sweetie,” he said tenderly.
“Thanks Charlie, I’ll see you next Friday.”
Amy wrapped up her apron and approached Jack from behind. “Hey there,” she said, smiling at Daisy, as she leaned over her husband’s shoulder and whispered quietly in his ear.
After carefully listening, Jack responded clumsily, under the weight of his alcohol, “Haha, yeah, of coursh. That sounds perfect.”
“Alright, I’m gonna go then.”
Pulling on her coat, Amy walked briskly toward the exit. Seconds later, she was gone.
“Who was that?,” said Daisy.
“That--that wush--my date for the night,” a goofy smile overtaking his expression.
“What about me?,” Daisy said in a whining, juvenile tone, cutely pouting out her bottom lip, “I’ll be too lonely without you!”
“Hey, you’re comin’ too, baby; like I said, the more the merrier!”
Certain of Jack’s mendacity, Daisy rapped out with purgative surrender, “Fuck, at this point, I’m down for anything! I can’t even feel my toes, I’m so drunk!”
With drunken humor, Jack brought his fingertips together connivingly. “My plan has worked,” he said, devilishly breaking into laughter.
“Oh God, you must think I’m such a slut!,” Daisy said, rapidly loosing control, “but, you know what? I’m glad I’m a slut--that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little slut!,” she went on with drunken garrulousness, “Everybody thinks so, they’re just too afraid and too stupid to say it! And I know, because I’ve been around and seen everything and done everything.” Her eyes flashed about the bar defiantly, wildly eyeing her drunken companions, as she laughed out with thrilling scorn, “Sexy--God, I’m sexy!”
Unable to contain his laughter, Jack keeled over the bar top ferociously, Daisy belligerently toppled to his side, and Charlie dropped the check between their giggling faces.
“Hehe, good call Charlie!,” Jack said, attempting to regain his poise. “You wanna get outta here, Daisy?”
“More than anything,” she replied seriously, subdued.
Jack reached for her face, wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, and kissed her impetuously. Once pulling away, Daisy, for the first time, noticed Jack’s wedding ring.
“Are shyou married?,” she said with sudden surprise.
“Yeah?,” he replied dubiously, “I thought you knew. I don’t see why it should make a difference now, though.”
“Oh, don’t worry, it doesn’t; I just didn’t know.”
Jack pulled her in tightly and kissed her. “Let’s get outta here.”
“Where do you wanna go?,” she drawled out, her head collapsing backward in euphoria.
“Hey, thank you Charlie; I’ll be seeing ya,” Jack said as he put down sixty dollars and emerged from his seat.
“Hey, no problem man, have a great night.”
“You know I will,” he said loudly, embracing Daisy as they both staggered away.


Stumbling through the hallway, mouths locked passionately together, the two groped and clawed with bestial vigor.
“Room 6B, this is the one,” Jack said, gasping for air. After a few clumsy failures, still fastened to Daisy with frenetic zeal, Jack successfully ran the key-card and the two stumbled into the room. Taken aback by the crimson glow of the television, Daisy flipped on the light switch and stepped away from Jack.
“Oh my God!,” she blurted, genuinely startled, “What the fuck!--who the fuck!--What’s the matter with you?!--What the fuck is going on?” She turned and slapped Jack cruelly across the face. “I’ve gotta get out of here--What’s the matter with you?! What’s the matter with you?! God! You fuckin’ perverts!,” she wailed out, tears welding in her eyes, as she ran into the hallway. A gust of wind chased after Daisy, slamming the door closed as it whisked by.
“What the fuck just happened?!” Amy interjected. She lie in the bed nude, flushed pale with ghastly stupefaction, a joint dropping from her mouth as she uttered the words.
“I have no idea,” Jack replied, staring blankly at his wife.