‘Some guy came in today and told me my BB King was in the blues.’
‘Where else would he be?’
‘That’s what I wanted to ask him, but couldn’t tell if the guy was fucking with me or not. It was that same guy that came in last weekend asking you for local oat milk.’
‘Yea, like you see any oats being grown between the trees around here?’
‘From the city.’
‘He’s gotta own something out here, doesn’t look like the type to rent.’
The fire cracked. I used its flame to light my spliff and bring it to my lips. Wednesday’s were quiet at the bar and still we were outside. There were two old men drinking Pliny’s on stools inside, harassing Kim. They routinely got there around 4:00 and left when they were told to. Usually 7:30.
The sun had just gone down and I was weighing my options to head inside or endure the freeze.
One of the men started to come out, his yellow lab limping behind him. Kim opened the door for them both, but he stopped to say something else to his buddy. Something that only either of them could understand.
‘Look who’s got a new truck,’ Jonny motioned to the parking lot. A lifted ford pulling in and parking over the curbside, because it could.
‘Suppose he needed one after the accident.’
‘You mean the crash, ain’t nobody said that was an accident.’
The man got out, his pit bull jumping after him. His vest sleeves were cut and a scar shined from his shoulder to his elbow. Strong arms, heavy steps, short man.
‘You should put that green out before he smells it.’
‘I have a feeling it’s a bit too late.’
The man peered in my direction, my face lit up by the fire in front of me. Jonny and I turned our backs as if we could see into the darkness behind us.
‘Wish Jake would just get here so we could—’
A high pitched yelp rang out into the night, we turned to see the yellow lab pinned down as the old man yelled desperately to get the pit to stop. Jonny ran over and grabbed hold of the pit's collar, his owner standing by the wayside, watching. The yellow lab screeched again, but was freed. The old man got to her as fast as he could. Her ear was ripped and she was bleeding from the back of the head.
‘It’s cause she’s on a leash, you know. Dogs don’t like leashes.’
The door to the bar swung open and closed just the same. Jonny wiped the blood from his hand on his pants.
‘The bitch got me!’
‘Let’s go inside, I'm getting cold and that didn’t warm me up.’
Jake showed up. So did Sadie, with a date. By the time we were getting our second drink the bar started to fill a little. The man with the ripped vest had a friend as well. His pit sat under his feet at the end of the bar. They both drank water. The music was turned up, my nerves had settled in. The beers helped.
‘I keep some of those gas station jerky strips on me for the dogs. By now they know me on my route, but you can’t be too careful.’
‘So the age-old tale of postmen is true then?’
‘Yea, the bitches will bite you on your ass in every species, so I’ve found.’
‘You got those dobermans on your route?’
‘Nah that’s Alejandro. Says there’s days he sits in the truck for thirty minutes just letting them tire themselves out.’
‘Alejandro? I ain’t heard of an Alejandro from the post.’
‘He works the south side of the river, goes down into Rio. Maybe you know him as Cutt. Ali Cutter?’
‘Cutt, yea I know him! Comes into the Manor and gets a beer and just stares at people without talking. Seems like he needs a good lay.’
‘No, I don’t think that’s it. Ali’s got a wife.’
‘No I’m sure. Always see him leaving with a different fella too.’
‘Cutt? Alejandro Cutter?’
‘Yea! Wears that vest, always over a flannel?’
The song ended and left the bar filled with our conversation alone. I could see the two at the end of the bar turn curiously. One of the stools screeched and the man headed towards us. I put my head down and tried to finish my beer.
‘I thought I heard you guys talking about Alejandro. Seems like it would be best not to talk about him if he ain't here to talk about himself.’
‘I was just talking about my post route, we work together. You know him?’
‘He works for me.’
‘You work for the post?’
‘No.’
‘Oh. Maybe it’s the wrong guy.’
‘It ain’t, and it would be best if you kept his name out of your mouth.’
‘We’re just telling stories, he’s my friend.’
The man just stood there, staring at Sadie’s date without saying another word. Trying to decide if he was worth the effort. She looked at me, my head still in my glass. The next song started to play. He went back to his seat at the bar.
‘What the fuck was that?’
‘I don’t think Alejandro is just delivering the mail.’
I set down my empty glass and walked outside to have a joint, blowing my smoke in the other direction.
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