Finally, our laughter began to fade. ‘Fortunate Son’ by CCR was now rocking the juke box. The Mule Kick didn’t have TVs mounted, so it was just Malia and me sitting at the bar without anything else to stare at. I took another long, delicious pull from my fresh drink to prevent second thoughts from sinking in. My mind felt wide and open like the blue sky over the gulf shore on a perfect summer’s day.

Razz plopped his heavy arms back atop the bar. “Huh,” he said. “Guess I had told that one already. Hell with it. Shit like that don’t ever get old. I’ll tell it at Tommy’s wedding, and beside Lisa’s grave, assuming I don’t go first, that is. Way that broad gets after it, I don’t see how that’s possible, though.”

Addressing Malia, I aimed my thumb at Razz. “You’re looking at the pinnacle of health right here. Guy wouldn’t touch a vegetable if it made his back hair crawl onto his balding head.”

“Not true. I ate one of those artichokie things once. Hair started falling out the very next day.”

That was another of his old stand-bys, It may have choked Artie, but it ain’t gonna choke me!

I chuckled by way of habit. Then noticed the one detail they’d left out from this place. “Hey, where are the pork rinds?” I asked. Instead of peanuts, The Mule Kick offered complimentary bowls of fried pork skin to snack on while sipping booze.

Razz, or whoever was pretending to be Razz, squinted in puzzlement. “Uh…all out, I guess,” he said.

“Shame,” I said. “That was like the rug in Lebowski’s room. Pulled the whole place together, you know?”

Malia gave me a ‘hush up’ elbow to my arm. I turned toward her, my head like a balloon on a string. “So.” I drew the vowel out into a low vibration. “What comes next?”

If she had been pretty before, she was beautiful now. Raven braids with streaks of blue. Lips painted glossy red. Skin so flawless it looked fake, and might have been. That’s another form of intoxication right there: rebellious beauty. One I was addicted to as well.

“That’s up to you,” she said, her cheeks dimpling when she sucked her straw. Staring at me with eyes that twinkled with mischief.

Regular people savor their drinks. Alcoholics guzzle them. Two gulps and I saw Razz ready another round. “You know, I always wondered what became of the Spring River chicks.” That was true, too. Some say life is an even playing field, but that’s bullshit. Some people are fucked from the jump. Place a trust-fund baby in the ghetto and see how far she gets. Some of the most worthless people I know own the most stuff. “Guess they wind up here, huh?”