Jimmie stares deep in into amber liquid. His world reduced to a high ball glass. It wasn’t only this way but such is the life of a drunk.
The oyster bar is in name more for the likeness of lifestyle the bottom feeders. There is no ocean here. A muddy lake of a impounded stream provide visual interests. You come here not to be seen or see the outside world.
His lone friend is on way to get him. He has a hole in the left arm from another “friend”. Fortunately he was as good friend as he was a shot. Somehow the poor bandage wrap hides the wound. No-one is looking at him anyway. His $23.83 has been spent.
The door fills with a 300 pound man covered in grungy jean material. Russell calls out “Jimmie, you owe me a drink for this”
“No cash left. I’ll pay you double, just pick up next round. Julian dumped me in woods. He thinks I’m dead. Gonna burn him up like his old lady.” Jimmie slams glass on bar “Hey big guy wants a draft and he’s buying me too.”
“You watch the mouth. I’m not helping with anything but getting you outta here. I got family. I got a pretty face. People remember me. You lie with dogs and got fleas.” Russell throws a ten in the bar and sits down. “Tell me how a dumb ass shots you, a career con man. And how do you get even.”
Jimmie knows Russell is in. Russell is happy when other people feel worse than him. Julian will suffer.