Mad Marko, security, looked around Bandit’s Cantina. Most of the patrons had wandered out to their bikes, fired ’em up and peeled out. This was the second time in a week that the place had been shot at, and it was taking it’s toll on business. The place was once the most popular biker bar in town. Something was wrong.

Jimbo meandered out to his Panhead and fired it to life. “You’re gonna have to tell Bandit,” he said to Marko on his way out. “This place will be dead, or someone in it, if something isn’t done.” He glanced in the direction of Slick who was motioning for Tina to follow him into the galley. Jimbo was a big man with long baby-shit brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. He’d been riding almost 20 year. He was a biker first, a dock worker second.

He wanted Tina, although he knew her weakness. Working on the docks meant good pay but lousy access to the fairer sex. He was supposed to meet his latest girl at the bar, but like most he dated, docks and bikes were not that appealing. He was stood up again, although he wasn’t a bad looking sort.

Tina the redheaded bombshell with just a smattering of freckles placed seductively on those creamy white cheeks followed tall Slick into the Kitchen. Slick turned his big dilated pupils on Tina and licked his lips. “You didn’t want to leave with that big galute, did you?”

“This is fucked up, Slick,” Tina Said. “Is someone trying to kill you?”

Slick pulled a small glass vial from his vest and dipped the chained-to-the-cap silver spoon into the powdery substance and lifted it to her nostrils. She inhaled once, then took another blast to her other nostril. Slick helped himself to two sizable blasts and put the vial away. “Come on, baby,” Slick said pulling her into a storage room full of the smells of tortillas, and salsa. “Who would want to kill me?” His voice wasn’t entirely convincing, but Tina was beginning to lose the gnawing in her gut. The sensation of uncaring superficial lust rolling over her.

“Ah fuck it,” Tina said licking her lips, “who cares.” She sat down on a bag of flower and spread her soft pliable legs. She had quit working out since she met Slick and his vial. Slick moved closer and unzipped his fly….

Jimbo pushed his drink away, visibly shaken by the blast. He stared at Tina with direct blue eyes. “I’m not taking another chance like that. I’m not coming in here again. Come with me Tina.”

Tina looked at Jimbo with longing eyes. He had every right to want her. He’d been coming into the Cantina for months trying to get her to notice him, but she hadn’t. Yet she didn’t appear to be involved with anyone. “Ah, I can’t,” she said, her eyes full of questions and concern. “I need to hang for the rest of my shift.”

“I’ll come back,” Jimbo said.

“Don’t bother,” Steve said, shutting down his cell phone and coming to the edge of the bar. “You heard her, she’s staying.”

“Fuck you, Meth Mouth,” Jimbo snapped. “Is that why she stays, your drugs?”

Jimbo was a laid back sort of guy with a dose of heart, but Slick Steve was all big and no balls. He stammered as Marko approached.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Marko said, holstering the stainless pistol. He glared at Slick, knowing that the tall punk had a side operation going on. “We don’t need to lose a good customer.”

Jimbo pushed his drink away, visibly shaken by the blast. He stared at Tina with direct blue eyes. “I’m not taking another chance like that. I’m not coming in here again. Come with me Tina.”

Tina looked at Jimbo with longing eyes. He had every right to want her. He’d been coming into the Cantina for months trying to get her to notice him, but she hadn’t. Yet she didn’t appear to be involved with anyone. “Ah, I can’t,” she said, her eyes full of questions and concern. “I need to hang for the rest of my shift.”

“I’ll come back,” Jimbo said.

“Don’t bother,” Steve said, shutting down his cell phone and coming to the edge of the bar. “You heard her, she’s staying.”

“Fuck you, Meth Mouth,” Jimbo snapped. “Is that why she stays, your drugs?”

Jimbo was a laid back sort of guy with a dose of heart, but Slick Steve was all big and no balls. He stammered as Marko approached.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Marko said, holstering the stainless pistol. He glared at Slick, knowing that the tall punk had a side operation going on. “We don’t need to lose a good customer.”

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.

———————————————————- ————————-

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.

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.

———————————————————- ————————-

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.