Tales From the Bartender
by
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Betty walked as inconspicuously as possible into the
restaurant so that he would not spot her before she could spring her surprise.
She stood behind a large ficus plant and peeked through the branches trying to
locate him.
Suddenly she thought she heard his precious voice.
She listened again and heard him say, ”All I can think about is making love to
you. You are the only woman I have ever loved or ever will love.”
“Oh my God”, she said to herself, “He's found me.”
She closed her eyes and turned slowly with anticipation of his arms embracing
her.
The next voice she heard was a woman cooing softly
that she loved him, too. At first she had a vision that it was herself
responding to his passion and love. But the voice continued by saying, yes, she
would love to go to a room with him and love him as he had never been loved
before. She asked him to give her five minutes to powder her nose and that she
would meet him in room 241.
Betty’s head started pounding like a drum. She was
in total disbelief. This was not happening. It was just a bad dream. She closed
her eyes and shook herself to wake up, but nothing changed.
Something inside her snapped and she saw her hand go
to the tray of dirty dishes, recently removed from a table by a bus boy. The
black handle knife somehow became attached inside her clinched fist and made
its way under her blouse.
She went to the lady's room, fully intending to talk
to this woman, who was trying to take advantage of her poor lonely husband.
After all, he was the one trapped in France brooding for his beloved wife.
She rinsed the knife and wiped it off with a paper
towel, and then she checked herself in the mirror for any tell tell signs and
returned the knife to the same tray of dirty dishes from which it came. She
left as inconspicuously as she could.
The plane ride back to Norfolk was a daze and a fog.
“Room 241 indeed,” she repeated to herself.
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Book Details
About the Book
Lloyd has been a bartender since he graduated from
college, some fourteen years ago.
When he found a steakhouse and cocktail lounge in
Las Vegas that he could afford to buy, all the pieces of his life seemed to
fall in to place.
Now he would have his own business, his own spacious
apartment and a place to set up an office where he could write his stories. He
could continue his amateur detective work and be a counselor for his friends.
But the best part ---- he would have a steady supply
of new stories.
“How bad could it be?” he asked out loud.
“How bad could what be?” Lewis, the realtor asked.
“Oh nothing, I just have a bad habit of talking to
myself. I’m going to stop that someday,” he said and smiled at Lewis.
Lloyd didn’t tell Lewis he was a writer.
He never tells anyone.
The bartender loves hearing the stories and jokes
that people confide in a comfortable relaxing atmosphere. Every one has a story
stuffed inside that is clawing to get out and Lloyd is the kind of person that
people can talk to.
Some stories are good, some bad, some beautiful,
some ugly
and some--are very weird.
About the Author
Treesa Sherrin-Spencer started writing over
twenty-five years ago as a journalist for the California Bowling News. A dream
inspired her to approach the publisher about an astrology column she wanted to
write, for the fun of it. The fun column, “Star Gazer”, had a thirteen-year
run, until she set it aside to pursue a medical distribution business. Using
her creative mind she designed six medical products and obtained fourteen
patents over the next sixteen years. At age fifty-six, she retired from the
medical business and started wondering what she wanted to be when she grew up.
One sunny afternoon the idea of Lloyd popped in her mind, and within six months
she had written twenty-one fiction stories involving the fictitious bartender.