“What kind of lab?”

I knew better than to say anything that suggested medicine, chemistry, or something that might have suggested the presence of chemicals or drugs. I felt rather clever making that connection. “A physics lab,” I said. “I set up experiments for the students.”

The disappointment was clear on his face.

A noisy, skinny little man came into the bar. He was small, but he had a big presence. He yelled at James right off. “Hey, James, you’re a fat pig and you snore even when you’re awake.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you very much,” James said. James smiled at me. “That there’s Derrick.”

Derrick moved to the bar and talked to a woman.

“Your friend?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Well, I’ll let you visit with him. I have to go home.” I knocked back my second shot. I called for the bartender. “What do I owe you?”

“Don’t go yet. Meet Derrick.” James called to his friend. “Derrick, get your ass over here and meet my friend Zach.”

Derrick left the woman he was talking to and came over. He reached out and shook my hand. “I’m Derrick.”

“Zach here works at the university,” James said.

“What, are you a professor?” Derrick laughed.

“Works in a lab,” James said.

“Oh yeah? What kind of lab?” Derrick asked.

“Physics.”

“You work with all them oscilloscopes and shit like that?” Derrick was pleased with himself.

“Sometimes.”

Derrick gave a surreptitious look around. “You like coke?”

“No,” I said. “Listen, I’d better be leaving.”

“Stay,” Derrick said.

“Come on, Zach.”

“You know what the difference between acid and coke is?” Derrick asked. “Like anybody does acid anymore. Know what the difference is?”

I shook my head.

Derrick was laughing. “When you take acid, you see God. When you do coke, man, you are God.”

“That’s pretty funny. I really have to go.”

“Come on,” James said again and grabbed my sleeve.

I said, “Let go of my arm.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Derrick said. James did not let go of my arm. Somewhere in the cellular memory of my muscles was three years of Marine training. Without thinking but wanting to, I grabbed James by the index finger, bent it backward, and broke him down to a knee. I then punched the small man in the throat, sent him to hug the nearest stool. I tossed some money on the bar, let James go, and started out. James started after me, and I turned to face him. I remembered something that a friend told me once, that nobody enters a fight they don’t believe they can win. The man backed away.

I got into my Jeep and drove a couple of blocks away and parked, collected myself, convinced myself that I was not drunk. I was embarrassed but not unhappy. Then I drove home.

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