The Bar Dogs: Tristan In Love

Tristan leaned towards the pretty brunette with the low cut white blouse sitting next to him that he had been talking to. "So what did you say your name was again?"

"Naomi," she said evenly.

"So let me tell you about what I do, what it really means to sell, Naomi," he said, pausing a moment, for effect; he was enjoying this. "You've got to be born to it. You have to make magic at that crucial moment. I mean that, and that's what I'm about. I'm the magic man. You just can't pick that up along the way, it has to be there already."

His gaze wandered over her lips. She stubbed out her cigarette, exhaling quickly.

"You have to have it," he continued, "and by that I mean intuition and confidence. And maybe also--"

"I see a friend over there," she blurted out, pointing vaguely, "I have to ask her something, I'll be right back."

She had already gotten up and disappeared into the crowd by the time Tristan had said, "Yeah, sure, I don't care."

Of the six shots of Jack Daniels he had ordered for himself and Naomi two were overturned and the remaining four were lined up in a neat row on the bar top in front of him. After looking over his shoulder blankly for a moment his gaze returned to the shot glasses filled with the caramel-colored liquid. He smiled and said "Cheers" brightly as he slammed one back.

It was after finishing the next shot he noticed Henry walk in. He sat next to Tristan and said, "How's tricks?"

Tristan pushed one of the two remaining shot glasses in front of Henry saying, "I was in love for about ten minutes.

"Aw, some gal break yer heart?" Henry asked smiling.

"First couple of minutes were really great, we just couldn't get enough of each other. Then we got used to being together, maybe around the fourth or fifth minute, y'know like any relationship after a while things get familiar and safe. But the last two or so minutes we just couldn't stand each other anymore; things just went to hell, she left me. But now that I've had a chance to think about it I've decided she was probably just a lesbian. Her and every other woman in here."

"Maybe it's just that you don't have a fucking clue when it comes to women."

Tristan, affecting his best John Wayne accent, drawled, "Fuck you, pligrim."

"So they're all lesbos, huh?"

"That's the only explaination I can come up with. Otherwise, you tell me, why aren't they just crawling all over me?" Tristan finished his last shot, then, slamming the glass down continued. "I'll tell you why. It's because they want slack-jawed sensitive types, like you. I'll never understand it. It must be that they're all afraid of my maleness, the power of my masculinity. But what can I do about it, take it or leave it, it's me."

Henry raised the tiny glass to his lips and said, "To women, God bless'em."

"Shut up. Let's take off and hit another bar."

"I don't think so."

"What?"

"Well, it's Friday night."

"Yeah, so?"

"That means tomorrow's Saturday."

"Did a brick drop on your head on the way over? Start making sense."

"Tomorrow's Saturday morning," Henry explained. "I just can't get wasted tonight."

"Why the hell not?"

"Cause there'd be hell to pay."

"There'll be hell to pay if you don't come with me right now to another bar," Tristan said menacingly, then smiled sharply. "And the drinks are on me."

"If I do come along it's just for one drink, understand?"

"Uh, sure. Just one drink. I promise."