One crazy dreadful night, one long drive, one small bar and the one encounter that made me forget my troubles. A gorgeous dancing red head left me breathless...
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Speeding pass the red light and into the free way the rain poured down even harder, it looked as if a storm was on its way. I hadn’t the slightest clue as to where the hell I was. After leaving my garage I only started driving and driving at top gear. It took me back to my car racing days feeling the wind on my face while everything passed by my eyes in a flash.
I always soaked in the adrenaline and let all my thoughts escape with acceleration. My foot on the petal, I kept steering I could barely make out shit through the smeared windows. I took a U-turn on the road couldn’t clearly see. Miles out of town I was beginning to lose gas then I spotted a huge glowing sign marked BAR on it. I decided to pull up in the driveway I needed way more supplements to calm the anger that was stirring inside me. I slammed my fist on the steering wheel before unlocking the door. I draped my coat over my head and ran inside the small building for shelter. Inside I saw a couple of bikers, how I knew they were bikers? Because it was evident from the eccentric tattoos on their skin, long beards and their black leather clothing laced with chains. If there weren’t three normal looking guys sitting at the counter I would’ve been the only apple amongst oranges.
Quickly I took an empty stool alerting the bartender to approach.
“I’ll have a tall glass of beer.” I said and he came back with one. I gulped the beer down without stopping until it was all gone. “Keep ‘em coming.”
“Quite a drinker, buddy, where you from anyway?” asked the friendly Santa Claus looking bartender.
“Chicago. I needed to get some things off my head.”
I replied as he refilled the jug.
“No kidding, you a long way from home. Let me guess, girl trouble?” Hearing those two last words made me grunt.
I killed the second round of beer before nodding to him.
“Do you get a lot of us poor saps daily?”
I asked pushing the jug to him for another refill.
“Yeah, but never from as far as Chicago, who broke your heart, buddy?” I drank, slowly this time, remaining silent. It all went down just couple hours ago, my knuckles still stained with drips of the bastard’s blood. That wicked bitch actually had the nerve to call the police on me.
“Wow that bad, huh?” I inhaled feeling the beer starting to take effect on my raging nerves and somehow I decided to give my new friend my humiliating story.
“Imagine coming home early one day to surprise your wife since you were on a business trip for five days. But instead, you heard sex noises from your own bedroom and go in there only to find your not so loving wife screwing her Yoga instructor, in your own fucking bed.” I had another big gulp.
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