The Jaded Side of the Truth – 1

CHALLENGE RESPONSES – FICTION

Chapter 1

The room was filled with smoke. I cough and stare through my stinging eyes at the game. Harry is sitting, acting like he’s stumbling drunk, and the others are falling for it. Man, this guy could bluff his way through anything. A few years back, when Harry and I were still in the military, we were in a bar where we had no business. So it was the perfect place for us. There was this woman. Isn’t there always a woman in stories like these?

She was beautiful in all the ways she was supposed to be, and every man in the joint ensured she knew it. I’d seen a lot of women eat this kind of attention up. However, this woman seemed to be uncomfortable underneath her smile. She sat all the beers on the table and turned, running the chest of the biggest men I’d ever seen. He grabbed ahold of her like this accident was an invitation. Before I knew it, Harry was on his feet, whisking the woman from the burly man’s arms. The burly man’s eyes hardened, then narrowed in the way that the key ingredient in the recipe for a bar fight. So, I hit him.

I know that probably wasn’t a good idea, but he was asking for it? Yeah, the logic that we men use when it suits us. Perhaps we could blame it on the alcohol. Suddenly, I was weightless. I wonder if this is what astronauts feel like in training. The table felt hard but gave easy. The floor wasn’t as forgiving. I found myself on the wrong side of a fist. His fists were like anvils. He hit me and waited as if I needed to score the punch. So, I did.

“6.5, bud; you can do better than that, can’t you?” I said. The flush in his face deepened, and I grasped from the next punch.

“Yep, yep.” I wheezed, nodding my head in confirmation.

“Much, much better … Fuc …,” I mutter as I roll onto my side. I didn’t know what was going to happen next. I just knew I couldn’t take another hit like that. So, the best thing was to lay there and whimper like a good little boy.

“Hey, shitbird, Joanie Wilder hit harder than you when she was five.” I managed to yell. I stared at him through one eye; at least, I thought it was him. Someone could have told me I danced the chicken dance with a purple-striped Zebra, and I wouldn’t have questioned it. Then I heard my rescue in the distance.

“Hey buddy, what are you doing?” a voice said.

“Don’t you think you’ve made your point?” “You’re big tough fella. A gem with all the ladies, I’m sure. How about you, have a pint or two on me and my friend there?” the voice. Things had already begun to throb and glaze over. The voice sounded underwater, but it was Harry, and I was sure of it.

“Harry!” I mutter

“Be right there, Percy.” He responded.

The burly man said something I couldn’t understand, and Harry pulled me off the floor. We made it outside. This was the first time I had gotten a look at the waitress.

She sat quietly on a bench surrounded by flowers. Either she was beautiful, or I was delirious. It was a good chance it was both. Neither Harry nor I ever got her name. It wasn’t about that. I can’t say what it was about, but it wasn’t that.

Tonight, Harry was doing his thing again. Man, they were set up perfectly. I’ve seen it repeatedly. There is no way I would sit down in a card game with Harry Morton. He’d cut you every which way with his wit and then pour salt in the wound, and you’d thank him for it. At least initially.

Harry took them for everything they had and then some as we walked out. The heat tab was up and burning bright. Harry was sober as a judge, as he always is. Steak and eggs are always good, but better when it is free. Harry went home to crash, and I went to my office. I run Moviegoer Investigations, which keeps me out of trouble most days. Skip traces and cheating spouses pay most of the bills, but occasionally, I get something real. A case that matters. Like last night, retrieving a client’s money, which had been swindled, was a sting. A little payback on the side of justice. I would have done it for free, but nothing free. There is no better cardman than Harry Morton. Harry takes his fee off the top, and I settle the rest with the client.

My office was in a converted auto repair shop. It took me six years to get things how I wanted them. I was headed towards the living area when I heard a noise inside the office. An intruder? I reached into the small of my back, ready for anything. I walked into the office and stared into the eyes of the woman from all those years ago.

She was older, but it was her. Just as beautiful as I remember. The tension eased, but I was still ready.

“Hi.” She said

“Hey,” I reply

I waited for the explanation, but I felt something odd. I couldn’t quite place it.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” She asked.

“Yeah, the bar in Budapest, right?” I asked, but I was pretty sure. There was no way I would ever forget that beating or the cause of it. The stench of the bar and the faces of its patrons came flooding back. It seemed like I had never left. I really hadn’t. I grimaced at the memory.

“No from before?” She said

I stood perplexed but said nothing. That odd feeling returned, but this time a little stronger. She sat unmoved by my hesitation. She crossed her legs and shifted. She wore one of those easy smiles that came naturally to pretty people. I wondered where this was going and what it was about. My Ruger rested firmly in the small of my back.

“I’m Joanie Wilder, Percy.”

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Author’s Note:

This is a stream of consciousness piece that hit me like a ton of bricks this morning during treatment. I was glad the type of treatment I had today, I could type. I remembered the themes from Linda Hill’s SoCS from the last few weeks. My editor loves her in a non-weird way because by participating in Linda’s challenge, I’m writing the type of stuff she loves. So, thanks, Linda, for hosting.

I keep a notebook on my desk with a list of words I like from various WordPress challenges. I use them whenever. There is hardly ever a plan when I write them down. But today, RDP’s card game sparked this story. Then Percy, Harry, and Joanie were born, just like that. I include these words in the stories I write as much as I can. I never force them; it will disturb the flow. We can’t have that.

Lastly, the images are done last. I must stop and stare into the ether to see the people I wrote about, which I can’t do while writing. If you made it this far, thank you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I certainly enjoyed meeting Percy, Harry, and Joanie.

~thanks for reading~