THE TWO REDNECKS near the pool tables now st epped forward. Both Rob Trilling and I watched them in the
mirror above the bar.
They paused about fifteen feet from us, next to the pool tables.
While Gary and Cindy were chatting to each other, Trilling and I spun around on our barstools. We faced the two
men standing by the pool tables.
Cauliflower Ear had on a red plaid flannel shirt that looked like it belonged on a lumberjack. Crooked Nose wore a
sweatshirt under an unbuttoned shirt. They were both right around six feet tall. My guess was they were local talent
Arnold Marks had hired on the fly.
I k ept the couple at the end of the bar in my peripheral vision. They appeared more professional. The woman’s
jacket covered some defined shoulders and arms. Her partner was built much the same way, lean and strong. The
exact sort of people you didn’t want to meet in hand-to-hand combat.
I glanced around and noticed there was no one else in the bar. No other patrons, and the bartender had made himself
scarce.
Trilling said in a low voice to me, “I’ve got the two at the pool tables.
It’s a r epeat from the other day. Maybe if I’d handled it then, we wouldn’t be in this situation now.”
I said, “Let it develop. Don’t throw the first punch. Let’s see if we can avoid this altogether.” Even as I said it, I
realized there was very little chance of a peaceful resolution. I could tell the couple at the bar would make their
move as soon as we engaged the two from the pool tables.
One of the men near the pool tables, Crooked Nose, said to Gary, “I remember you from the other day. Ain’t no fat
d eputy around to save you this time.”
Cauliflower Ear said to Rob, “You look like the kind of guy who would run home to your momma if you had a
nosebleed.”
Trilling said, “I would go to my mom. She’s been handling my injuries since I was a little kid. What are you, some
kind of moron? Do you think you can give me a bloody nose?”
I mumbled to Trilling, “Nice burn. I’m not sure it scared him at all, but you made a lot of points with just a few
words.” It was still satisfying when I could make my partner smile occasionally. I wasn’t sure if this little smirk was
more about my joke or the fact that he was looking forward to dealing with these assholes.
Cauliflower Ear picked up a pool cue from one of the tables. It was clear he didn’t intend to play a game. “Go on
back home,” he threatened me.
I said, “That sounds like a good idea. I’ll be headed back home in a couple of days.”
“Why wait?” He smacked the pool cue into his hand.
Trilling sealed our fate. “I’m waiting till you get your GED. How long do ya think that’ll be?”
That got the guy with the crooked nose marching directly over. He had no obvious weapons, but his right fist was
clenched. Just as he stopped a couple of feet away from my partner and was about to say something, a different
Trilling surprised me.
Gary Trilling took a wild right-hand swing and caught the redneck square on his crooked nose.
The man stumbled away a few st eps, then turned and glared at Gary.
I said, “Hey, I think you fixed his nose.”
The redneck didn’t like that. I could tell Gary regretted his actions. He was a businessman. This guy was a barroom
brawler who Arnold Marks had paid to stir up some shit.
Now they had.