So Many Things to Bury by Chris Orlet

Author:Chris Orlet
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

THE PARKING LOT at Chuck’s was half full. I recognized four of the vehicles as belonging to regulars and there was Jack the barman’s pickup truck, but I couldn’t place the two Harleys. From time to time you’d have a gang of bikers try to turn Chuck’s into a biker bar, but in the end Chuck’s always turned out to be too depressing for them or the songs on the jukebox were too country or the clientele was too old and there were never any women around, and they would quickly move on.

It was a little after twelve-thirty when I strode into Chuck’s. The jukebox was quiet, and the sound was off on the television. Four old timers slouched half dead at the bar. Circling the pool table were a couple of long-haired, bearded bikers I’d never seen before. They wore worn leather jackets with the name “Wind Tramps” embroidered on the back, and bandanas wrapped around their heads. It was a cooler uniform than the Steak N Shake guys wear, but it was still a uniform.

The regulars looked surprised as hell to see me. I guessed they’d heard the news by now. I took my regular seat at the bar, and Jack the barman came over and stood in front of me. He took the nub of cigar out of his mouth and nodded and pressed his lips together. “Goddamnit, Al, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything; how about bringing me a bourbon on the rocks?”

“Sure, Al. Sure.”

I took out my wallet.

“Put that away,” he said. “Your money’s no good here. Not today.”

One by one, the old timers looked over and muttered their condolences. Some of them even bought me drinks. Jack refilled my glass and said some guy had been calling, looking for me. He called several times, but wouldn’t leave his name or number.

Johnny Law. Well, that didn’t take long.

No, that was silly. The cops wouldn’t be calling a bar. They’d be kicking down the door to my motel room, guns blazing.

Who then?

Greg?

No, he had no idea about Chuck’s.

Barker.

Shit fire. I’d forgotten all about Barker. I still owed him a… thousand bucks. A thousand bucks for killing my son.

Well, let him try and collect.

I was on my third whiskey when I noticed a light snow had begun to fall. The whiskey was doing its job well, and I was feeling, if not at peace, then at least at home. Home. This was where I belonged. These people got me. What had six months of exile and sobriety gotten me? I was divorced, homeless, jobless, and I’d lost my only son.

The two bikers wandered over and introduced themselves. Butch and Rock, they said. The last thing I needed was chit chat. I pushed my glass across the bar for a refill.

“I got that,” one of them said.

They said they’d heard on the news that the fire marshal suspected arson and they were curious if the cops had any suspects. Jack the barman shot

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.