Snippet 3

As I leaned back in my chair I opened my leather jacket and adjusted my piece that I had in a shoulder harness. Fuckin’ Jethro saw it as he was bringing my drink and he didn’t know whether to shit or go blind. I mean I look like a cop. A big fat white guy with the map of Ireland on his face and white donut crumbs on his shirt is usually a cop. But this dick was so lame he didn’t know what was going on.

He actually spilled some of the beer when he put it on the coaster.

He scurried off to the end of the bar and picked up the phone and whispered into it. About two minutes later this Arab looking dude came bursting out of the door from the basement and looked at me. And visibly relaxed. Then he actually slapped the kid on the head. Hard enough to knock off the hat. I guess they don’t have a human resources department in Damascus.

He oiled his way down the bar. Didn’t look like much. Wearing a too shiny shirt with a too shiny skin. Wasn’t much comfortable in either.

“Hello my friend…how are you…I am Wally and I own the restaurant. “
“Bobby Doyle, nice to meet you chief. You can relax, I‘m on the job.”
“I thought so but I felt I should ask. Guns make me nervous you know. Perhaps you meant to go next door to Brady’s. Most of the police prefer it there although I would like to get some of that business. I just don’t want any trouble.”
“No trouble just meeting a friend. Don’t sweat it Babu.”
“Wally.”
“Whatever, pally.”
“Thank you sir. Please to have the next one with us ok?”
“Thanks.”
He walked away back to end of the bar, whispered to the shit kicker and went back downstairs. Something was hinky here but I really didn’t give a shit. I just wanted to get this over with.