Posted: 14 June 2011 at 7:17pm | IP Logged

I parked myself at my usual place at the bar, nodding to the guy to my right who seemed to be one of the bar fixtures. In fact I calculated the very same guy had been here every time I had succumbed to the warm fug and near-charmless embrace of the (Do)minion Bar over the last three years. During that time we may have a good twenty minutes talking through the merits of the latest Giants pitcher, with their recent dire form they should be renamed the Giants of Despair. Back to my barstool buddy and our none too lengthy interactions, well that’s what I like about the joint, the deep satisfying level of fellowship. And of course the faded decor and the fact that an ex-homicide detective can have a peaceful drink without worrying about feeling a knife blade through the ribs or the kiss of some goon’s brass knuckles.

              ‘Usual Mr Douglas?’

              ‘Sure Ripey.’

              Ripey the ever efficient bartender, one never to short change a worshipper, administered the sacrament to the pilgrim and he partook. It was strangely unsatisfying, funny how meeting some unexpected goodness can start to sober one up.

               ‘How’s things Mr Douglas you looking a bit out of sorts. Just had a visit from the IRS?’

               ‘Ripey if I earned enough to pay big taxes you’d no doubt be seeing a healthy increase through your till. No it’s my next job that’s on my mind, searching for some fellas.’ I took another taste, still nothing to write home about. It wasn’t the liquor, I knew it was little ol’ jaded me.

              ‘Dangerous types?’

              ‘Way, way worse…….. musicians. Ever heard of a bunch called After the Fire?’

              ‘Can’t say I have, and with a name like that I’d a remembered it. Well Mr Douglas perhaps I never told you but I used to be one myself years back. Called the Candy Boys, we were all called Candy. I was Ripey Candy and I thrummed that double bass in every after hours joint around the Bay. Now I just hold two jobs to try and pay the bills and put my daughter through college, she needs a better life than I had. When I’m not here I’m pulling and lifting weights down at the docks. No time to be looking at all those rich folk enjoying themselves on their sailing ships.’

                ‘Well Ripey don’t burn the candle at both ends and look after yourself.’

                ‘I’ll try Mr Douglas, all the hiring and firing down at the dock’s being done by the company that’s taken everything over down there, Edencorps. They look a mean bunch but with my wife not in good health I can’t afford to lose any paid work, no sir.’

                 ‘I know you’ve had your share of problems, as I said look after yourself. Still got any contacts on the muso scene Ripey?’

               ‘A few from the old days, well the ones that still breathing. Your best bet is our old agent; he still books most of the entertainment round these parts. The Amp agency, I’ve got the telephone number behind the bar, I’ll write it down for you. Just ask for Harvey.’

               ‘Thanks.’

               ‘Mr Douglas if you don’t mind me saying you look like you need a holiday.’

                ‘Tried Honolulu once, but it was too noisy.’

                ‘The traffic, the nightlife?’

                ‘No the shirts were too loud.’

                ‘Perhaps you need a good woman Mr Douglas. Who’s gonna love you when you get....’

                ‘Ripey I’ll stick to horse races and liquid medicine. I know I’m old, getting fat and wasn’t near the front row when looks were being given out. All I need is six months good sleep.’ The nightmares about being in debt were just starting to outnumber the scenes from the homicide days; bullet-ridden corpses in roach infested flop houses. Suppose its progress.

                ‘It must be hard being alone.’

                ‘I’ll take the dog for a walk, man’s best companion.’

                Perhaps I should get myself a pooch, one of those unwanted mutts from the pound. We’ve probably a lot in common. 

                I finished my drink and looked across at my fellow supplicant, in reality more the stranger, drinking like me at the altar. He was lost in another world of maybe harsh memories and corrosive regrets. I took out a well worn twenty dollar bill and handed it to Ripey.

                ‘Another drink Mr Douglas?’

                ‘No Ripey put it towards your kid’s college books. See you round and thanks for the tip.’

                I turned without giving him a chance to argue. Got some things on my mind, like finding the slippery cats After the Fire; I had precious little else cooking.