Honkytonks and Fishing in the Wild West by Aaron C. Anderson

Author:Aaron C. Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Acorn Publishing

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SIX

Jake was not excited by his room, but he showered and shaved before going to Romeo’s Italian Restaurant for dinner. It was a clean and professionally presented restaurant with a sign on the wall that stated, “We invest our resources in quality people and quality ingredients.” The waitress who served him and the food proved their mission statement more than accurate.

“This pasta is fantastic,” Jake said to the blond waitress as she cleared the table.

“Thank you. We make everything from scratch. Would you like to see the desert selection?”

“No, I am good like I am, thank you.”

The attractive forty something waitress looked back to Jake. “I do believe you are.”

After paying the bill, Jake left the restaurant fully satisfied and ready for an evening of dancing.

Ten minutes later, he backed his bike to the curb in front of the Union Club Bar and Grill on East Main. It was a two-story brick building with Federal design features. Above and beside the Union Club sign was a larger sign, which read Union Hall. And painted on the side of the building was Labor Temple. The Union Hall Bar and Grill was not just a name. The union hall bar is what it was. Through the glass double doors, the interior looked as old as the exterior with necessary adjustments for the advent of electricity, and current comfort and use requirements. The floors were hard linoleum, and the drop ceiling had 1950’s style acoustical tiles. There was a long walk-up bar, a walk-up food counter, a dozen tables with chairs in the middle of several booths and a pool table next to a large picture of Minnesota Fats on the wall. It was the classic picture of a dated working man’s bar in the Midwest.

Jake walked up to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. With drink in hand, he sat at a four top table next to the small hardwood dance floor, settling in for the hour and a half wait until the music started. Within half an hour the tables started filling. At eight the band began setting up. At eight thirty, Jake invited a couple in their mid to late twenties, who appeared ready to find a wall to lean against, to join him.

“We don’t want to intrude,” the dark-haired man with a medium build in a flannel shirt responded when Jake offered to share the table.

“I can only use one chair. I would have sat at the bar if it had a view of the band. I don’t mind the company.”

“If you don’t mind. My name’s Andy and this is my fiancé, Margaret,” Andy said, holding his hand open toward Margaret like he was presenting royalty.

“I’m Jake. Pleased to meet you both,” Jake said as he stood up next to Andy while Margaret seated herself across the table and adjusted her long curly blond hair away from her face.

When Andy returned from the bar with a beer for himself and a Cosmopolitan for Margaret, he asked, “Where are you from, Jake?”

“Northern California near Oregon.

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