Below Pacific

Chapter one is the introduction of some key characters....

 

 

 

 

      The dusk evening settled over the harbor city as the sun ducked behind the Pacific Ocean. A small square shaped bar was stationed on the corner of a four way intersection between 22^nd and Pacific Ave. Inside was dark with the stench of sweat and desperation hanging in the stagnant air. A pool table sat in the middle and an electronic dartboard hung on the back wall. A Jukebox sat off unused in the corner. Small tables and chairs were set up catty corner across from the regulation-sized pool table.

        The counter hosted eight wooden barstools and a blond haired women with an eighties hairstyle named Barbara, who was behind the bar, lazily slinging drinks, while engaged in conversation with a small smattering of patrons. An older, mature, well-dressed man leaned on the bar. He called himself Mr. Conner. The man finished the drink in a highball glass. Barbara approached, as he placed his glass on the bar.

“Can I get you another one sweetie?” She asked.

 Conner inspected his glass,

“Sure why not. A Greyhound please. Light on the ice.”

“No problem.”

      She snatched his glass and refreshed the drink. A skinny, short black man dressed in a L.A Metro bus uniform walked through the front door. The name Darnel Audrey was on his nametag. He strolled by a pool table where a young Shark was feverishly practicing, while a young Mexican boy studied his every move.

The bus driver grabbed the seat next to Conner,

“Hey how you doing? Is this seat taken?”

      Conner smiled and cordially pulled the chair out.

“Not at all. Please have a seat.”

    Darnell sat next to Conner, as Barbara strolled over joyously dropping a coaster in front of Darnel.

“Here you go. What can I get for you sweetie?”

     The bus driver replied obviously in a hurry.

“A rum and coke. Light on the coke heavy on the rum.”

“You got it.”

     Conner sympathetically turned toward Darnell.

“Long day?”

     Darnell let out a loud sign then unbuttoned his collar.

“If you only knew. People can be such a*****e sometimes. This guys comes on the bus with a bucket of quarters, nobody speaks English anymore. The gang member crept through the backdoor. It's enough to make you want to kill!”

     Conner smirked,  “Yeah, I know people. You have rough job.”

Darnell took his first sip, “Yeah and it's still not over yet. I usually slip over here on my break to calm my nerves.”

     He motioned Conner to hush and not say a word

Conner winked at Darnell, “Mums the word.”

“So what do you do?” Darnel asked.

 

      Conner sipped his Greyhound, thought for a second and then spoke,

 

 “I'm in repossession. I take things back that people owe.”

 

      Darnell continued to question, “Like cars, boats and s**t?”

 

     Conner gently chuckled to himself, “Yeah something like that.”

 

 Barbara bought another drink and placed it in front of him.

 

“Compliments of your new friend.”

 

     Darnell glanced over to Conner and raised his glass for a toast,

 

“To new friendships”

 

     Conner winked as if his left eye lip weighted a ton.

 

“Cheers”

 

     They both took their highball glasses to the head. Barbra walked off and handled a

 

group of rowdy Long shore men, who had entered the bar from the back entrance.

Darnell stretched his long arms upward,

 

“Whew, thanks man. My day just got better. So what’s your name new friend?

 

     Conner stuck out his hand and Darnell greeted it with a hard, friendly grasp,

 

 “Conner.”

 

“What do your friends call you?”

 

 “Mr. Conner. I don't have a lot of friends, it's the job description you know?”

 

 “Well I understand. I'm Darnell from…..”

 

  “Harbor City.”

 

      Surprised he drank a hefty sip of his rum and soda.

 

“Yeah? How did you know? You been on my route? Have I spoken to you on the bus?”

 

     Conner played it off, “ You look like you’re from Harbor City. I'm just a go guesser.”

 

Darnell leaned on bar then pounded his fist on the counter. A smile jumped across his road weary face.

 “S**t we need to go to Vegas then. I could win a lot with you on my side.”

     Conner enjoyed another sip.

“I'm there all the time. It's like a second home to me. I do some of my best business there.”

“I bet you do with all those lonely desperate souls. Sometimes people will do anything for a little luck”, Darnell stared deeply into Conner, “ You a praying man Conner?”

     Conner finished the last drop.

“No, no. Never been much for praying and things of that nature. I believe whatever happens is going to happen. Barbara another drink for my friend here.”

“Well thanks friend.”

“You want a double?”

“Sure if you’re buying.”

“Indeed I am. Barbara make it a double.”

“You got it sweetie.” Barbara hollered

     Darnell turned around on his stool and spectated the handsome, thin pool player in his late twenties practicing as if his life depended on it. A young Mexican boy spied from a chair in the corner. Darnell was impressed with his pool skills.

“He's good. Very good, he looks like he's a serious pool player. Bet he hustles a lot of people out of their life savings.

     Conner kept his back to the action,

“His name is Freddy. Yes he is one of the best pool players you will ever see in your life. But even hustlers get hustled.”

     Darnell rejoined Conner, who slid another rum and Coke in front of him.

“Your drink my friend.” He recited smoothly.

     Darnel grasped the highball glass and inhaled the drink. Three young men in their early twenties John, Ken and Josh entered the bar, dressed in shorts, tank tops and Baseball caps worn backwards. Without haste they occupied the three open seats next to Darnell. The men appeared very serious with stressed expressions on their faces. They slinked into the stools and scanned the interior of the bar carefully. Barbara waltzed up to the men with a look of pity tattooed to her face. She could sense their uneasiness.

“What can I get for you guys?”

    The friends turned to each other. Ken the taller, beach boy blonde addressed Josh the short chubbier of the three with his thick shoulders and missing neck.

“You got me dude? I'm broke man?” Ken begged.

“S**t man, you're always broke. Okay but don't get anything to expensive. I got first round. I'll have a Bud. John the athletic brunette with the glassy blue eyes and building biceps made is order know,

“I'll have a Bud.”

“I'll have a Coors light”, Ken added

     Josh and John checked out Ken and laughed,

“What I'm trying to watch my weight dude. Awe f**k you guys! Always want to break someone’s balls!”

     The trio huddled close to each other. Josh spoke slowly and direct.

“Okay. If everyone know his part. It goes down tonight. Are you ready because there can be no flaking or bullshitting. We have to go through with this.”

     Ken appeared worried and put his head in his hands regretfully,

“Dude I don't know. Do we have to do this? Is this the only way? What about an appeal?”

“They have us dead to right. This is the only way man. Just calm down it will work. I sat up all night planning it.” Josh replied.

     Ken begged, “Come on! I don't know man? I just don't know!” John grabbed Ken by the front of his shirt.

“You f*****g p***y! It’s because of your stupid a*s we are in this trouble. Always running you mouths to b*****s. Look where you got us.” murmured John.

The group looked to see Barbara holding their drinks in hand. They quickly broke huddle. Josh reached for his wallet,

“How much?”

     An unflinching Barbara with eyes like ice cubes gazed upon them,

“Ten dollars.”

    Josh pulled out a ten and rested it on the bar. Barbra snatched it then walked off.

“Dude you didn't even tip her.” Said Ken.

    Josh took a sipped of his beer, “For what! I hate that b***h!”

“You're always supposed to tip” , said Josh

“Why? Tell me why? You couldn't even pay for your drink and your drink and your going to tell me I have to tip. You have balls man. You have some grapefruit size balls.”

       John extracted a wrinkled dollar bill and gently placed it on the bar, “There! You guys happy? Get focused you a******s this has to go right.”

     Darnell checked over to his left shoulder and spotted a group six of men of various age and demographics gazing toward him with hate and disgust. He glanced at the buddy as they suddenly made eyes contact with the group. He peeked toward Conner then finished his drink.    

     The bus driver knew trouble was around the corner. Trouble he wanted no parts of but the liquor caught up to him. He whispered drunkenly to Conner, “What’s the story here?

     Conner swirled the cloudy liquid in the highball.

“What story my friend? Oh behind us are those three young men. Well they are Casuals about to be casualties.”

“What are Casuals?”

    Conner pointed to the pack of roughnecks,

“Those are Longies.”

“Longies? What are they hung of something?”

     Conner laughed and slapped Darnell playfully on his back,

“No Longshore men. Well before you can become a Longshore man and get into the Union. You have to be a lowly Causal. Now the story behind those young men is.....”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Notes please......Let me know what you think.

Reviews

[Leslie Philibert]

Judas is a writer I have always liked and continue to do, original and perceptive..

[Coyote Poetry]

I like this place. I have been to a few like it. I was lay backed and had many good conversation. I like the description of the people. Making the people come alive and have life. Always a education in your words. Thank you for sharing the excellent opening chapter.
Coyote

[Dayran]

A story that begins on ... issues very new to our society ... gay and other same sex relations ... friendships ... but winds its way around the bar ... and looks up from a grey and shadowy corner ... to make mention of the issue. Still ... its a great attempt ... at the naming convention ... longshoremen, casuals, harbor city ... being a significant start.

Harbor city ... with its connotations of ships coming and going ... is significant in the write ... and points to perceptions of far-a-way places ... that you run into in stories ... in the watering holes facing the sea. A good start ... well paced ... and delivered with the minimum of hands shaking ... ( 'causal' being one ). Keep writing young Judas ... I'm looking forward to more ...