A Man Is What He Hides

We sat. A woman at the end of the bar with a beehive hair-do stubbed out her cigarette, slid off her barstool, and waddled over to us. She was nearly my height and had a few pounds on me. She didn’t look enthusiastic about her job, but when Tommy smiled up at her, she took the pencil out of her hair and a pad from her apron and stood at attention to take our order.

“And what will you gentlemen be having today?”

“Are there menus?” I asked quietly.

“Holy shit. I forgot,” she gushed, bustling away to the bar.

She returned with the menus and handed them out. She straightened, batted her eyes at Tommy, and patted the side of her hair like something could escape the black hole of her hairspray.

“I’ll take the scrambled egg sandwich and a Coke,” I said.

She looked at me like I was an unpleasant afterthought.

“Scrambled egg sandwich.” To Tommy she said, “And you, hon?”

Tommy was giggling with the girls. He hadn’t even looked at the menu.

“I’ll have the same,” announced Jerry.

Tommy suddenly looked up from the girls and realized it was his turn to order.

“I’ll take whatever they’re having,” he said.

“Do you ladies want something?” I asked the girls.

The waitress rolled her eyes at the word ladies. The girls giggled and shook their heads no. The waitress dotted her pad forcefully and said the meals would be ready in a jiff. She ambled away, the swish of her jeans audible over the juke.

Two bow-legged cowboys dismounted their barstools and moseyed over to our table. They stood behind Tommy with their thumbs hooked in their belts. One of them pushed his hat back with his thumb in a practiced gesture he had seen in any number of westerns.

Jerry smiled at me and said, “Here we go.”

The cowboys watched Tommy’s shell game for a few passes. One of them said, “Hey, boy, you pull that shit on these school girls. Think you can get away with that on a man?” He smiled at his partner, pleased with his question.

Tommy looked over his shoulder. He looked back at us with a smile that said he had found two new patsies. He spoke straight to us, “If that man had some money to back up his talk, I’d be happy to try, pardner.”

Our scramble egg sandwiches came with our cokes. The waitress sighed tiredly at the scene in front of her, incapable of stopping the inevitable.

One of the cowboys thumbed the girls out of their chairs. They were unhappy at having their fun interrupted and sulked as they went to the bar.

The cowboys sat down on either side of Tommy. Tommy beamed at them both.

“Who first?” he asked confidently.

Jerry and I ate quickly. The cowboy on the right took a dollar out of a wallet that was chained to his belt and laid it on the table.

Tommy said, “Okay, big spender, follow the pea.”

Tommy whirled the thimbles with practiced efficiency, setting them in a row, and leaning back in his chair. The cowboy pointed at one. The pea was not under it. The cowboy brought out another buck. Same result. The other cowboy gave it a try and failed.

Now both cowboys were enthralled at the magic, concentrating mightily to follow the pea. Inside of fifteen minutes, Tommy had cleaned them out. Bewildered, the cowboys returned to the bar. Tommy said, “I gotta leak” and went to the bathroom. Relieved at a potential crisis passing, Jerry and I ordered two more sandwiches.

“You know,” Jerry started, “with all my dealings in City Hall, you’d think I’d seen everything; but, for the life of me, I don’t know how they do that.”

“Do what?” I asked.

“The shell game,” said Jerry.

“It’s easy,” I said. I nudged my sandwich aside, grabbed the thimbles and pea, and demonstrated to Jerry how the pea was palmed. Jerry gave it a try, mastering it quickly. When I went back to my sandwich, I saw the two cowboys were watching, and both of their faces were red. I elbowed Jerry.

“Put it away,” I whispered from the side of my mouth.

The cowboys approached and stood over us. I was chewing as fast as I could. The sandwiches were excellent, and I hated to waste them.

“We want our money back,” one of them said.

“Talk to the kid,” Jerry said through his food.

Tommy came out of the bathroom. On his way back, he stopped to talk to the girls, but seeing a confrontation brewing, they turned their backs to him. He walked back to the table with a perplexed look on his face but smiled when he saw the cowboys.

“You boys want to try again?”

One of the cowboys hooked Tommy’s arm with his hand while the other socked Tommy right on the chin. Tommy fell backwards and slid across the floor a good eight feet. He sat for a moment and felt his jaw with his hand, then with a murderous look on his face he leaped to his feet and plowed into one cowboy, turning our table over into the wall. Jerry and I saved our sandwiches and Cokes just in time.

A grand donnybrook ensued, Tommy and the two cowboys. Chairs overturned and glasses were broken while Jerry and I stood watching and finishing our sandwiches. Tommy was valiant. He gave as much punishment as he took but was eventually overmatched. After a minute of some of the best brawling I’d ever seen, the cowboys pinned Tommy to a wall and were taking turns punching his guts out. Jerry finished his sandwich, dropped his plate on the floor, took his gun out of his jacket, and shot a hole in the ceiling.

“That’s enough!” he yelled.