Jimbo stood against the thick oak bar sipping his second margarita and wondering where his girl was when a .45 armor- piercing bullet shattered a glass block on the other side of the room. It split the turned oak pillar at the corner of the bar 2 inches from his left shoulder.
Tina, the waitress with long auburn hair, stood up from delivering chips and salsa to a couple of rough-looking patrons. Out of the corner of her green eyes, she spied a black, ’52 Chevy pull away from the curb outside.
Marko, the special services operative turned bouncer, ran inside from the main door and hollered to the bartender, “What the hell happened?” He had unholstered his stainless .357 and held it firmly in both hands. At 48, his hair was salt & pepper, but his black jump suit indicated that he trained regularly. His FXR was locked securely behind the Cantina.
Slick Steve, the 6-foot-8 bartender, stood up from behind the bar and shrugged. He looked shaken, yet tried to conceal his concern. His pock-marked face looked ashen and a sheen of sweat covered his forhead. He turned away from Mad Marko to compose himself.
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Episode #2–What Happened?
Jimbo, a big round character with a jovial personality to match, moved away from the split wooden pillar, brushing the wooden shrapnel from his shoulder. “What the fuck?” he asked. “Isn’t this the second time this week this place has been shot at?”
Slick Steve looked up from the deep sink where he was washing glasses and fumbled for his cell phone. He didn’t answer the question, but looked at Jimbo’s drink, eyeing the level of liquor in the glass. “Can I get you another one?” Steve asked, even though he knew the answer was no. “Excuse me for a second.” He walked to the back of the bar with the cell phone pressed against his ear.
Tina came to Jimbo’s side with fresh chips and salsa. “Can I get you a side of guacamole or some soft shrimp tacos? On the house.” She jiggled her bubbly breasts under Jimbo’s nose, trying to difuse the situation and save another customer.
Mad Marko came to Jimbo’s side. “We’ll take care of it.” He looked suspiciously at the bartender’s anxious conversation on the phone.
