The Garhole Bar by A. Hardy Roper

Author:A. Hardy Roper [Roper, A. Hardy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A. Hardy Roper
Published: 2014-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

Tuesday, August 30

Lisa shook me awake and said Claire was here to see me. I stumbled into the bathroom holding my head. Nothing I could do about the circles under my eyes. Sometimes a hot shower would dissipate the darkness a little, but I had no time for that now. I threw on some shorts and a shirt and eased down the back stairway holding the handrail.

Claire sat at the back counter drinking a Coke, appearing radiant in a brightly colored blouse of red and yellow roses set off by looped gold earrings and a thin gold choker. No resort attire here. She was dressed to kill.

“Good afternoon, Parker.”

The words flowed out as easy as her smile. The freckles on her nose bounced. So cheerful—such enthusiasm. I abandoned her at the oak motte two days ago, and now she was back. Why? I would find out soon enough. For now, I was just glad to see her. I mumbled hello and turned to the sink to fill a glass of water.

“Hope you slept well,” she said. “It’s after twelve o’clock.”

It was the same old Claire, starting with a dig. But at least it was a cheerful dig as though nothing had happened.

“Well, bartenders keep late hours,” I replied, trying to match her catty tone. “And we have to get our beauty rest.”

“Sure you do,” she said, grinning broadly. “By the way, thanks for the use of your truck. I would have gassed it up but there were no stations between the lagoon and The Garhole.”

A small rebuke, but I guess I deserved it. I managed a smile. “I apologize for Sunday, Claire.”

“You should, making me drive a stick shift. Not very gentlemanly of you.”

It wasn’t the answer I wanted, too flippant. Maybe she was just being careful. Couldn’t blame her, after the way I had exploded. I turned toward the refrigerator and opened the door. Cold rice, some eggs, a few peppers. That would do. I removed the containers and turned to Claire, “You hungry? I’ll whip something up.”

She answered with a straight face, “Thanks, but we don’t have time. The appointment’s at two o’clock.”

“Appointment?”

“Yes. Grab a quick shower and let’s go,” she said, shooing me with her hand. “We’ll barely make it now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The title company. You’ve got to sign the papers,” she answered with a straight face. “Last night when I came back, you agreed to sell.”

“You...you were here last night?” The head pounding increased, the room swirled about. A ray from the ceiling light bounced off the gar-head’s teeth. Was it laughing or sneering?

Claire answered, playfully, “Good lord, Parker. You are having memory lapses. I could have molested you on the deck for all you know.”

I acknowledged her tone and smiled. “You’re wrong, Claire. I think I would have remembered that.”

She put her hand over her face in mock embarrassment. I watched closely, hoping the freckles would move again.

She lowered her hand and said, “Seriously Parker, you do have an appointment. My ex knows the head man at the VA hospital in Houston.

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