Mr. Chatty

“So what do you think?” Prince said, looking at his watch.

“Maybe one more.” She slurred her words like scuffing feet.

Regina was already loaded, but Prince didn’t feel like fighting with her. He held up two fingers to the man tending at the other end of the mahogany bar.

“I’ll be back Sweetie.”Reginapressed her lips sloppily to his. Her lipstick was worn off and splotchy. Prince held back a shudder. She headed towards the pool tables and pinball machines. The bathrooms lurked behind them, like squatting toads.

By habit, he pulled out a pen from his breast pocket. He started writing on a nearby napkin: 

Once I was

Her leather jacket

And she

My bra and panties

Doesn’t time gift

Permanence within a wilting reed…

The drinks arrived with a bang and a splash over. The bartender cleared his throat to remind Prince to pay. Prince fought the urge to take money fromRegina’s bundle, tucked in his pocket for safe keeping. She never wanted to carry a purse to the bars. But he didn’t, instead peeling the second to last twenty from his own wad.

“What’s that?” A man to his right said, pointing at the napkin. Prince picked it up and tucked it into his pocket with his pen.

“Nothing for your eyes, friend.” Prince said with a trained smile, to avoid conflict while still getting his “fuck off” message across.

“Are you a writer?” The man seemed determined to continue talking.Reginawas still not back from the bathroom.

Prince turned to really consider at Mr. Chatty. He was in a cheap suit; jacket half on the floor, half on the back of his stool, a dusty boot print on one sleeve. It was hot in the bar, especially after a couple so the dress shirt sleeves were rolled up. His head was balding, flushed and perspiring. He drank a beer in a handled mug and had peanut dust on his trousers. Prince smiled at him.

“No, I’m not a writer. I’m a male stripper.” Mr. Chatty burst out laughing and Prince couldn’t help but joining him. “Ok, would you believe plumber?”

“Nope, I wouldn’t.” He grinned and then turned away.Reginahopped back on the bar stool.

“Ohh goodie.” She said about her drink and in taking a sip, spilled on her fingers. She promptly licked the liquor off them. Prince fought the urge to take his pen out again, compose aboutRegina’s rough tongue, her bleary lips bright again from reapplication, her shadowed teeth and her pickled skin lacking any expression. She began rambling on about Shoundra at work and Carlos at the dry cleaners. Prince took a sip of his drink and cast his eyes back at Mr. Chatty. He was staring at Prince.

Mr. Chatty tipped his beer glass all the way up and emptied it. He swiped his face with his lower arm to wipe away and stray drops. He dropped a five in the tip bowl and turned to walk out.

The drone ofRegina’s voice went on. Prince slugged down his whole drink which rendered Regina silent.

“It’s been nice, honey. I have to go.” He called, nonchalantly.

“What?” She said with drunken clouded eyes. But Prince was already going. He didn’t wait to see if she had anything else to say.

The air hit him hard as he pushed open the wood and glass door of the bar. Standing out front was Mr. Chatty. He stuck out a hand to shake Prince’s. The shake was firm and honest. Prince took the napkin out of his pocket and handed it to Mr. Chatty.

“The name is Stephen.” He said eyes down as he read the napkin. Stephen looked up and down the street.

“Ok.” Prince responded as the chugged liquor sped to his brain. He felt the urge to tap his foot, or to get a move on.

“Come with me.” Stephen finally ordered and Prince followed.