Dirty, Rotten Bastard
One
At the bar sat a man on the same stool he’d claimed four hours ago. He’d walked in the door with a forlorn look ready to be lifted from his face, which of course was still there, melting further downwards as the hours passed. A vague idea of the time passed through his mind as he searched for a clock to find no signs of one, and refused to ask the man beside him; he counted the glasses around himself instead. One, two, five… It didn’t matter, anyway. It was always too late.
“What the fuck do you mean you’re not paying me!? I worked 8 hours for nothing?” The tone of the young bartender’s voice penetrated the man’s mind, and he found himself more interested in the situation than his sober self might have been.
“Well you see, honey, you were here for trial purposes. We don’t pay for that.”
“I need that money, sir,” she tried, but got nothing from the bartender other than a small shrug of the shoulders in sympathy.
“You can’t mix nearly half the drinks you claimed you could, you don’t have a licence, and hell, I just don’t like your attitude, really.”
“So –”
“So you didn’t get the job. Sorry, hun.” This news didn’t come unexpected to Bridget. She knew she’d lied on her application form, and she’d had an attitude with half of her customers for a good portion of the night. She didn’t like to be yelled at, and she certainly didn’t appreciate the slimy looks she was getting from middle-aged men all night. This really wasn’t her thing, even if seedy bars were most definitely her scene. She couldn’t afford to get drunk at the higher end of town, and found the characters in bars such as these to be much more interesting. Take the middle-aged man slumped over the bar to her left, for example. She hadn’t seen him utter a word to anyone all night, and he’d only looked at her once as she handed him his beverage. She liked strong characters, even if she didn’t necessarily communicate with them.
She wasn’t expecting that to change.
“You need money?” he slurred at her as she stared, caught in her thoughts for just a moment. She had to be going soon, or she’d miss her bus. It’d be the last bus until dawn, and she had no interest staying out in town all night without any money or decent company.
“What’s it to you? You know a job going, or something?” she asked, and waited eagerly for his reply. Hell, she’d take just about anything, she was that desperate. If she couldn’t get her half of the rent together by tomorrow, she wasn’t sure what Brett would make her sell this time. She didn’t have a lot left these days. From his back pocket the man took his wallet and pulled a $100 note out, shoving it towards Bridget’s tender fingers.
“Well for fuck’s sake, take it, will ya?” he cried, but she couldn’t. People didn’t go around giving money to strangers, just like that. What did he want? The longer she stood there, the more uncomfortable she grew. She remembered the looks from the other men his age at the bar throughout the night, and recalled the drunken slurs of one in particular. Awe, sweetie, I’d love me a piece of that. She shuddered at the thought.
“I have to go. But uh, thanks, anyway.” She left in a rush, and it took all of the man’s concentration to coordinate himself as he got up from the stool in a hurry. He rushed after her through the crowd, because something told him he wouldn’t regret it. That something was probably the alcohol, he realised, as he found himself halfway down the street without a clue as to where he was headed. He liked to drink outside of town in small, out of the way bars. He found it drew much less attention to him that way. No one cared who he was there. There were no staring eyes, and no whispers to follow.
“Why are you following me?” came a tiny voice from beneath the bus shelter he hadn’t even noticed was there as he’d stopped by a building to rest. “I don’t have anything of worth on me… and I can scream much louder than you might guess…”
“What?”
“I think you heard me.” Bridget tried to tell herself that the bus would be late, and that she hadn’t missed it as her watch indicated. She knew she hadn't really had the time to argue with the manager at the bar, but she didn’t have the money not to.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said, a small smile forming on his lips. The cold night air had helped him sober up a bit, and that haze was disappearing from his thoughts a little. It hadn’t disappeared enough to make him see the bigger picture, no, just to help him put the smaller ones closer together. “I wanted to help you. You could consider it a stranger’s kind gesture?”
“People don’t give money away. You don’t look like you have much to spare.” He tried not to take offence to that, because he knew he looked horrid. He was still in yesterday’s clothes, and running his hand through his hair at that moment gave him a good idea of how messy it was.
“Look, don’t worry about it then but please, let me share a cab with you. I don’t think I can leave a young woman out in town, alone, with no money on her.”
“Are you blind? I’m waiting for the bus.”
“That bus doesn’t come at this hour. I tried to catch it last week because I left my wallet home.” He seemed embarrassed by that, and Bridget took that to mean it was a true story. She could certainly use a cab ride home…
It was an awkward ride, at first. Bridget was trying not to make small-talk in the back of the cab, but she didn’t much like uncomfortable silences. Besides, she found herself wanting to know more about the man that just slipped the cab driver an extra $20 so he could smoke in the cab. She might have asked about his occupation, or perhaps about his tattoos, but she forgot all about it as the cab pulled up outside a beautifully landscaped multistorey house. Who the hell was this guy?
“Here, that should cover the trip to… I’m sorry, I never caught your name?”
“Bridget Hart,” she let out softly, her mind still trying to process how a drunken slob got so lucky.
“Billie Joe Armstrong,” he replied, smiling at the look that was forming on her face. He knew he was lucky to have such good fortune, but it was at times like this that he truly felt it. He saw her eyes scanning the pool around the back that was visible through the back gate, and wondered if it’d be such a bad idea to invite a total stranger over for a late night swim.
“Listen, I’m a little drunk I guess, but would you like to go for a swim?” It’d been ages since Bridget had been swimming, and this stranger had a friendly face. She passed the cab driver half of what Billie Joe had handed her and gave the rest back to him as she pulled herself from the backseat and followed him through the back gate of his home.
Adrienne heard the click of the back gate, and fell asleep shortly after with those warm tears still in her eyes.
“What the fuck do you mean you’re not paying me!? I worked 8 hours for nothing?” The tone of the young bartender’s voice penetrated the man’s mind, and he found himself more interested in the situation than his sober self might have been.
“Well you see, honey, you were here for trial purposes. We don’t pay for that.”
“I need that money, sir,” she tried, but got nothing from the bartender other than a small shrug of the shoulders in sympathy.
“You can’t mix nearly half the drinks you claimed you could, you don’t have a licence, and hell, I just don’t like your attitude, really.”
“So –”
“So you didn’t get the job. Sorry, hun.” This news didn’t come unexpected to Bridget. She knew she’d lied on her application form, and she’d had an attitude with half of her customers for a good portion of the night. She didn’t like to be yelled at, and she certainly didn’t appreciate the slimy looks she was getting from middle-aged men all night. This really wasn’t her thing, even if seedy bars were most definitely her scene. She couldn’t afford to get drunk at the higher end of town, and found the characters in bars such as these to be much more interesting. Take the middle-aged man slumped over the bar to her left, for example. She hadn’t seen him utter a word to anyone all night, and he’d only looked at her once as she handed him his beverage. She liked strong characters, even if she didn’t necessarily communicate with them.
She wasn’t expecting that to change.
“You need money?” he slurred at her as she stared, caught in her thoughts for just a moment. She had to be going soon, or she’d miss her bus. It’d be the last bus until dawn, and she had no interest staying out in town all night without any money or decent company.
“What’s it to you? You know a job going, or something?” she asked, and waited eagerly for his reply. Hell, she’d take just about anything, she was that desperate. If she couldn’t get her half of the rent together by tomorrow, she wasn’t sure what Brett would make her sell this time. She didn’t have a lot left these days. From his back pocket the man took his wallet and pulled a $100 note out, shoving it towards Bridget’s tender fingers.
“Well for fuck’s sake, take it, will ya?” he cried, but she couldn’t. People didn’t go around giving money to strangers, just like that. What did he want? The longer she stood there, the more uncomfortable she grew. She remembered the looks from the other men his age at the bar throughout the night, and recalled the drunken slurs of one in particular. Awe, sweetie, I’d love me a piece of that. She shuddered at the thought.
“I have to go. But uh, thanks, anyway.” She left in a rush, and it took all of the man’s concentration to coordinate himself as he got up from the stool in a hurry. He rushed after her through the crowd, because something told him he wouldn’t regret it. That something was probably the alcohol, he realised, as he found himself halfway down the street without a clue as to where he was headed. He liked to drink outside of town in small, out of the way bars. He found it drew much less attention to him that way. No one cared who he was there. There were no staring eyes, and no whispers to follow.
“Why are you following me?” came a tiny voice from beneath the bus shelter he hadn’t even noticed was there as he’d stopped by a building to rest. “I don’t have anything of worth on me… and I can scream much louder than you might guess…”
“What?”
“I think you heard me.” Bridget tried to tell herself that the bus would be late, and that she hadn’t missed it as her watch indicated. She knew she hadn't really had the time to argue with the manager at the bar, but she didn’t have the money not to.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said, a small smile forming on his lips. The cold night air had helped him sober up a bit, and that haze was disappearing from his thoughts a little. It hadn’t disappeared enough to make him see the bigger picture, no, just to help him put the smaller ones closer together. “I wanted to help you. You could consider it a stranger’s kind gesture?”
“People don’t give money away. You don’t look like you have much to spare.” He tried not to take offence to that, because he knew he looked horrid. He was still in yesterday’s clothes, and running his hand through his hair at that moment gave him a good idea of how messy it was.
“Look, don’t worry about it then but please, let me share a cab with you. I don’t think I can leave a young woman out in town, alone, with no money on her.”
“Are you blind? I’m waiting for the bus.”
“That bus doesn’t come at this hour. I tried to catch it last week because I left my wallet home.” He seemed embarrassed by that, and Bridget took that to mean it was a true story. She could certainly use a cab ride home…
It was an awkward ride, at first. Bridget was trying not to make small-talk in the back of the cab, but she didn’t much like uncomfortable silences. Besides, she found herself wanting to know more about the man that just slipped the cab driver an extra $20 so he could smoke in the cab. She might have asked about his occupation, or perhaps about his tattoos, but she forgot all about it as the cab pulled up outside a beautifully landscaped multistorey house. Who the hell was this guy?
“Here, that should cover the trip to… I’m sorry, I never caught your name?”
“Bridget Hart,” she let out softly, her mind still trying to process how a drunken slob got so lucky.
“Billie Joe Armstrong,” he replied, smiling at the look that was forming on her face. He knew he was lucky to have such good fortune, but it was at times like this that he truly felt it. He saw her eyes scanning the pool around the back that was visible through the back gate, and wondered if it’d be such a bad idea to invite a total stranger over for a late night swim.
“Listen, I’m a little drunk I guess, but would you like to go for a swim?” It’d been ages since Bridget had been swimming, and this stranger had a friendly face. She passed the cab driver half of what Billie Joe had handed her and gave the rest back to him as she pulled herself from the backseat and followed him through the back gate of his home.
Adrienne heard the click of the back gate, and fell asleep shortly after with those warm tears still in her eyes.
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Let me know what you think :)Also, layout making drives me insane. If there's anything whacky about this one, please do inform me. ;)