The Unborn

Chapter 33

Ben walked through the doors of Bluey’s at eight o’clock. He approached the bar and ordered a beer.

“Wow!” cried Tadpole, “Nice war wound.” He pointed to the clear plastic band-aid covering the seven stitches above Ben’s right eye.

Ben laughed, “Thanks.”

“She musta been some lady?” Tadpole continued, taking the ten-dollar note from Ben’s hand. He rang up the cash register and handed him his change. “I hope she was worth it?”

“She was, and she most definitely was worth it!” replied Ben, patting the laceration on his head. His war wound was worth taking Rose-Marie Sugars down for, and he wasn’t one bit concerned about his appearance. Ben thought about Carolyn, his scar hadn’t deterred her. It hadn’t stopped her from accepting his offer for dinner tomorrow evening. He smiled dreamily when he thought of her. She was everything he wanted in a woman and strangely enough, she found him appealing too. It seemed his fortunes were on the rise. He had Mike to thank really, if he hadn’t have been so bold last night, inviting her out on his behalf, things may never have eventuated the way they did.

“Mikey here yet?” Ben enquired.

“Haven’t seen him.”

“Tell him I’m out there, would you please?” He pointed to the smoker’s deck. “Gonna get some fresh air.”

“On the smokers deck?” giggled Tadpole. “Good luck!”

“Yeah, pretty dumb thing to say wasn’t it?” Ben smirked, then picked up his drink and made his way to the open-air deck.

The chill of the air slapped Ben’s cheeks. They stung and turned rosey from the sudden drop in temperature. He spied an empty table at the far end of the deck and walked over. As he sat his beer down, the table wobbled and his glass toppled over, spilling all down the side of the chair and onto the deck. He bent down and retrieved the glass from the deck and stared at the mess he’d just made.

“Well, that’s a fine way to start the celebrations!”

Ben spun around to see Mike standing behind him, his hands on his hips and smiling broadly. “Crikey, Ben. You’ve only been here five minutes, so Tadpole tells me, and you’re already drunk!” his grin grew even wider.

“It was the table…”

“A bad workman always blames his tools, maybe you should be restricted to orange juice all night, eh?” his laugh encouraged Ben to do the same.

“You’re such a stirrer, Mikey.”

“Whoa! Nice scar there, buddy,” Mike cried, pointing to the cut above Ben’s eye.

“Yeah, it’s a real talking point.”

“Bet that does wonders for your brain-bleeders?”

Ben patted his pocket, “That’s why I have these little beauties.” he said referring to his painkillers.  “First sign of an ache, I pop two of these and I’m out!”