A(N) R'N R STORY: BRANDEN

Branden
*

It was in some kind of pub, I remember that it wasn’t too crowed, good people, good music. I was enjoying my cheeseburger; half of me was watching the Looney Toons on the TV, while my other attention was on some one else. “That burger the way you like it?” the pretty waitress asks me, pouring me a glass of beer, she had those bright blue eyes that pierced through you as though you were made of paper.
“As sweet as you are, Betty,” I said with a crack of a smile. She looked at me with false disappointment, “Betty?” the waitress asked “What am I some sort of fifties house wife…” and then moved on to the other costumers. I had to guess her name that was the game we played. I’ve been going to this Pub for six years; she’s only worked here for six weeks. I forgot how it all started, some kind of bet, don’t know what the prize is. As I ate my burger, I sang along to the Loony Toon’s theme, clicking my heels, happy as I can be.  Until…
“Why’s that TV so loud!” some asshole shouted. He was sitting just two seats down, looking over to see what was going on, only to catch in my eye a dirty baseball cap cut off from its head. There was a bit of silence, but no one was too disrupted, it was the usual in here. “Who’s watching that shit!” the man hollered, trying to keep from slipping off his seat. I looked around at those ignoring him and saw Father Nicholas staring me down with those white orbs, “I think he means you bud,” he said wisely. He was an old black preacher, christened me on my first birthday. It was also my first swimming lesson. I tried to look past the part where I nearly drowned and nodded that he was right.
“Uh, guy?” I said, but he sort of shrugged it off, the two people moved and I got the full picture. Typical drunk trucker, slobby clothes, stained wife beater shirt. He certainly did fit the stereotype. Looking back at me with those soggy eyes, it seemed like he was paying attention “Come on loser, look at me….” I said under my breath, a shiny gold man tooth twinkled in his mouth “Uh, I requested the TV…”
The drunk rose up like a bull about charge, failing to stand on his two feet afterwards “What ‘you say to me…” he said, and gripped the counter uncomfortably.
I looked at him honestly, forgetting my comment “I didn’t say any…”
“Shut up!” he screamed, the man growled, he picked up his empty bottle. “I’ll…kill you,” a small belch broke his threat.
I shrunk a little bit, and broke a joke “You might want to break that first…”
“Don’t encourage him,” Father Nichols’s whispered like a couch to a ring fighter, and then put down his drink with a groan
“Shut up midnight,” the asshole told my friend, he groaned and put down his drink
“You could never settle your own fights could you…” He said before stepping between the drunk and me “Listen, no one want’s any trouble, just pay for your drink and go…” the man threw the Preacher out of the way with alarming strength as to send him over a round table. I watched examine his bleeding lips and say with gritted teeth “Just to let you know,” he looked from his hand and said with spitted hate “Your going to hell for this!”
“It doesn’t matter,” said the drunk, standing upright in the first time he was here “I’ve already bin there…”
“What kind of line is that!” I said questionably with a chuckle. Suddenly, Daffy Duck came on Whoo-hooing all around the place
“Aw…” the man cried, he was really out of it, must’ve had a hard one last night for it was pretty early in the morning. “Turn that shit off…!” he pitched the bottle into the television set and it exploded on impact.
“Rachel!” I cried in surprise, before seized in the man’s girth and thrown against the counter.
“Nice try…” she said with a glimmer of humor, she hopped away as some glasses were tipped over.
“Man, you really have it in for me…” I said, and fought to keep him off me, holding his clenched fists at bay. He was wild eyed and in frenzy, not to mention he smelled bad. Suddenly, I heard the door squeak and heavy boots hit the floor. “Hands off!” a white glove appeared on the man’s shoulder, like the hand of God. Before I knew it, the drunk was cleared from me and held in a headlock.
“Now listen here chap, and listen good,” my savior said into the drunk’s ear “I like the Looney Toons, especially Daffy,” he continued with cold seriousness before looking around the tables “And, you didn’t ask…” there was silence in the room, as all eyes were on the stranger. One of the regulars stood up and said cautiously “We don’t have a problem…” but my savior stopped him short with a white hand, still gripping the drunk tight with the other.
“No…” he said steadily “let him say it…” the man groaned a curse word and the gentlemen pounded him over the head. “Come on…” the stranger said like a strict parent “Be polite…” The drunk looked around and, being that there was no other way out of this “Would any of you….”
“Na-ah-ah,” the gentlemen said warningly, I instantly reconized who it was by his accent. “Agh!” the drunk groaned, his arm twisted behind him, I stepped away as he was thrown onto the counter “Louder…” the gentlemen ordered, he seemed to be enjoying this, I didn’t know how to read it at the time, but it was certainly perverted.  
“What’re yah, a cop?” the man blubbered.
“Hello Martin,” my voice carried over, although I don’t think he heard it. He just stared at me with those grey and twinkling eyes of his, cat like in their stillness, only to have him smile as the drunk was beginning to slip out of his grasp “Ah, no you don’t,” the stranger slammed him into it and shook the whole place “Since you won’t behave I’ll have ask for you,” he sighed “Would any of you like to watch another program…” the gentlemen said, spying through the crowed to see of any objections “Good,” the gentlemen nodded and then spoke deeper into the man’s ear “Next time you’re here, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer…” and with that, he threw the him towards the door.
“Martin?” Father Nicholas rose up and held his sore arm in place; he had a look of familiarity in his eye,“How are you Harry,” the gentleman held out his hand to the father, only to be taken under his arm, laughing. My mind wandered as things slowly went back to normal for the other regulars; I turned to the waitress as she came around with the bottle “Betsy…” I said quickly, as she refilled my glass
“Your not getting closer…” she nodded to me, and tended to the new customer.
“What’s your pleasure, its on the house,” she said as quick as you’d say a password.
“Rye, please…” Martin replied subconsciously the bottle uncorked with a squeak and it spilled out into the glass, “Cheer’s love…” the gentlemen lifted it up and then saluted the other patrons.
Gulp!
“Ahhh…” Martin sighed and admired the flavor of the drink.
“Well, one things for sure,” Father Nick slapped him on the back “You can still hold your licker…” he began to let out those black guy guffaws “Heh-Heh-Heh!” and those purely whites shined in the over hangers.
Someone called him “Hey Nick, there’s a hand open if you want to play…”
I looked at Martin  “No,” He said with a hiccup “Leave the bottle…” and he tipped it over to fill the glass.
I was a little nervous to approach him, as the juke spat out some old punk song
“Thanks you for that…” I said and he turned to me
“Don’t mention it. Ol’bean,” he smiled and swigged his glass empty “Any self respecting lord would do the same…” he peered through the crowed and was hit with an expression of boredom “Lets go some place…”
“We’re in a place…” I laughed; I noticed that Martin never acted as old as he looked. Even when he was midway in what I assumed wa his sixties; he still had the recklessness of a twenty year old. “A different place,” he grabbed me by the collar almost desperately, his rye breath stinging my eyes “I’ve got some friends to introduce you too…”
“Alright…” I shrugged, and we were already out the door.