The Beasts of Juarez by R.B. Schow (story books to read .txt) 📗

back. Inside, he found a bunch of pulled wires, a few cut wires, and a dead cat.

“Now that’s just uncalled for,” he said, taking it by the tail and flinging it at the two guys who were still unconscious.

“Should we call an ambulance?” one of the girls was asking.

Then the cat landed right next to the big guy and the girls screamed and ran into the bar, one of them falling and skinning her knee on the way. The two guys who came with the girls helped one of the semi-coherent thugs inside, leaving the two unconscious men behind.

With no witnesses left in the parking lot of the Rum Runner, the deli next door, or the bar & lounge on the other side of that, he figured he could just leave. He could explain it to the cops if they came for them, but that’s when he saw a lifted Blazer with an ASU sticker on the back window. This seventies beast was backed into a nearby parking spot right under a yellow sign advertising watch and jewelry repair.

Reaching inside the BMW, he grabbed the river rock, then ran about ten steps and hurled the rock at the Blazer’s back window. Before he even knew what happened, he was face-down on the dusty asphalt lot. Apparently, he was drunker than he thought.

When he tried to get up, he gasped as someone helped him up.

“You okay, sir?” an older man with a cowboy hat and a big belly in a western shirt had asked.

“I think so. I must have gotten hit harder than I thought.”

“Them the guys that attacked you?” he asked of the two unconscious men. “You was that feller who had to defend yourself?”

“Yeah,” he said, dusting himself off. “Thank you for the help.”

Scotty started back inside the blood-red bar heading right for the bathroom he had already frequented before. He hoped that in addition to having a coke stall, they had a sink and mirror. He wasn’t all the way to the bathroom when he saw the college douchebag chatting it up with his double–order of giggling twat waffles.

“I think someone smashed up your Blazer,” he told the kid.

“What?” he asked.

Wavering a bit, he reached out and grabbed the first thing he could find to hold onto. It happened to be the kid’s shoulder. He quickly shoved Scotty’s hand away causing an involuntary reaction in him.

Scotty grabbed the kid’s arm, pulled it back, then slammed his face into the bar, still hanging on for balance. Getting right in the kid’s ear, he said, “I’m trying to do you a solid, bro. Just letting you know what’s up.”

“I said no fighting,” the bartender hurried over and said.

He shoved the kid’s face hard, then stood and smiled at the woman. “Oh, hey there. I missed you.”

“What the hell happened to your face?” she asked.

Scotty stared at her tits for a good ten seconds then he looked up and said, “My car was vandalized so badly it’s nearly unsalvageable. His Blazer was messed up, too. I was telling him this when he assaulted me, but he’s an asshole, so I think maybe it’s okay?”

“It’s not okay,” the blonde said.

“No one asked you, dingbat.” Before she could retort, he smiled and said, “Are those your real lips?”

“I just got them done,” she said, touching them.

“They look great,” he replied, tasting blood. He turned back to the bartender. “Two of the three guys who beat me up are still out in the parking lot.”

“Doing what?” she asked.

“Kissing pavement,” he said. “Where’d the third one go?”

“I think he’s in the bathroom,” the brunette said. “You know, your coke den, apparently?”

“If I was you,” he said to the brunette, “I’d get the number of your friend’s doctor and get your lips done. No offense, but they’re kind of thin and shapeless.”

“I’m calling the cops,” the bartender said.

“If they have any questions,” he replied, “have them call me.”

“I don’t have your number,” the bartender said.

“Funny you should say that. If you have a pen and paper, we can remedy that situation.”

She gave him a notepad and a pen, then she said, “Don’t bleed on my bar.”

“How many times do you get to say that in a month?” he asked sarcastically as he jotted down his number.

Before he was done, he wrote, Call me anytime, making the A in “Call” into a heart and putting XXOO at the bottom.

He spun the notepad around and slid it her way. She read it, frowned then started to laugh like she thought it was funny.

“Well look at that,” he said. “You have a great smile. If the cops don’t come, you should still use it.”

“You’re married,” she replied, crumbling it and tossing it in the trashcan. “Besides, I didn’t see anything, so the cops can earn their salary by figuring things out on their own.”

“This isn’t a wedding ring,” he said, showing her the ring. “It’s a female deterrent for when I’m at the gym.”

“Sure it is,” she said.

“He told us he was married,” the brunette said.

Turning to her, he replied, “See, the deterrent even works in bars.”

Outside, he called his investigator and said, “I need a ride from the Rum Runner. It’s a dive bar on the corner of N 7th and E. Butler. It shares a wall with Kosher Meat Fish & Deli. You can’t miss it. Big red sign, says—”

“Kosher Meat Fish & Deli?” his investigator said.

“Bingo. It’s directly across from Rainbow’s Barber Shop and El Bravo, which is Mexican food, I think. God, that sounds good right now”

“I know where it’s at,” he grumbled. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Five minutes would be better.”

The man hung up then Scotty went out front and took four pictures of his car and one of the dead cat. The ASU