DISCLAIMER: This website contains Amazon affiliate links, which means that if you click on one of the product links, we will receive a small commission.

If a dive bar had family, the farone would have been the red-headed stepchild or the black sheep. Possibly both the story went that 16 years ago. When it first opened, it was supposed to be the pharaoh, but the sign, painter, messed up and the original owners just didn’t care enough to go back up and add a vertical line with some red paint. The furrone was on its fourth owner now, and each one had cared about the name, a little less than the last one. Hector didn’t care about the name at all: he’d chosen, the bar for the same reasons.

He chose most places: cheap, booze, low lighting, limited entrances and exits, probably a fire code violation, but hector didn’t care about that either. At least three booths shallow enough not to get trapped in which also gave direct line of sight to the main entrance and the back room swinging door and right now out of those things, the only one he cared about was the cheap booze over the past two And a half years hector’s days had fallen into a nice simple schedule. He got up with the sun showered grabbed a breakfast burrito from one chosen at random of the four hole in the wall places within a block of his studio apartment. Then he sat on a bus or train station bench also chosen at random and ate the burrito. Sometimes, if said form of public transportation came while he sat there, he’d pay cash and ride it for an hour or two hector paid cash for everything.

One way or another, at half past noon, he walked into the farone just after they unlocked the doors, then, as they really began with a drink in one of the three booths, with direct line of sight to the main entrance and the back room swinging door. Sometimes he’d let one drink sit for hours sipping at it. As all the ice turned to water in the yellowed double rocks glass other times, he’d kill an entire bottle before dinner. It all depended on how he’d slept the night before usually he killed. The bottle today had been a rare day.

So far, almost four in the afternoon and he’d had only three drinks. The whiskey gave the bar a soft edge rubbing at the shadows like a charcoal artist. It had been overall a peaceful day internally and externally. The first one hector had experienced in at least two months. He raised his hand, signaled stew, at the bar for a fourth drink and the girl walked in hector, assessed her as he did.

Everyone who stepped through the big swath of afternoon sunlight and paused to let their eyes adjust. He didn’t dismiss her because of her clothes. Every item was new superhero, t-shirt, jeans, red and blue sneakers, sweatshirt denim jacket, school backpack and a sparkly sequin covered baseball cap declaring unicorn’s rule lower end stuff, but all of it new barely broken in at all, despite the hat, because of it really, he was also Pretty sure the outfit had been picked to blend into a crowd to let attention slide off the girl. His attention didn’t slide. He put her weight at 53 pounds.

Four foot: four short dark: hair peeking out from under the cap, closer to a crew cut than a pixie, a decent amount of latino heritage like himself slightly malnourished. She was 12 tops she blinked twice and looked back and forth across the room. Stu stepped around the bar holding a glass of liquid, amber and pointing himself at hector’s table. What do you want kid? The girl looked at him and blinked again for a moment.

Hector thought she didn’t understand the man. Then she shook her head and said nothing and a voice like a stage whisper bathrooms for customers only when you’re too young to be a customer. He stepped past her and delivered hector’s drink to the booth. Hector nodded his appreciation, but didn’t take his eyes off the girl. She turned her head pointing her eyes at each of the seven afternoon patrons she paused at hector then settled on a guy at a tall table near the bar.

Hector had never spoken to the man, but eavesdropping and observation had taught him that jorge worked as a security guard at one of la’s many film studios and was freshly divorced after he caught his wife cheating on him. The girl walked in a wide arc, circled, jorge and parked herself at the table across from him. She was two-thirds turn from hector, so he could see her jaw and mouth move but couldn’t read her lips. He watched jorge’s expression. The security guard shook his head.

Then looked back over his shoulder at the bartender kid stu’s voice hit the loud, slow pitch people somehow thought translated across all languages. You can’t be in here so get out before i call your parents. She ignored him and walked a beeline across the bar to hector’s booth. He sipped his drink and stared at her. She stared back.

If a dive bar had family, the parone would have been the red-headed stepchild or the black sheep. Possibly both the story went that 16

More From This Category