Bartender didn't turn around. Glanced in the wall mirror behind the bar stuff and kept wiping dry a tumbler. "Please." He made sure he caught the girl's eye and real subtle, pointed at the EXIT sign also visible in the wall mirror. A palm slap on the bar top. "I'm thirsty."
"Duck 'em in here," men's voices said outside the bar entry door. A couple. Wedding outfits. "That might explain the golf clubs with the big bow." The bartender tucked a leather tab book into his waistline. Smoothed the apron, knee length.
Slow, tentative steps towards the lucky couple until halfway there and the tuxedo wrenching the bride-to-be's arm. Stopped at a table and re-straightened silverware. A small "clubhouse".
Bag of tees and a tee-off time. Kinda crabby about plans shuffled around. "But, do you think they really don't know, or...
"Don't know.
"Anything?
"The mob's mixed up in all of this.
"So, it's too dangerous?
"No ice." The man shoved the bag of tees into a skinny pants pocket.
"Not even thin?" A sigh. A sigh back.
"Remember what they counseled before the politicians went you know where." She looked into the golfcart's visor mirror and put her lipstick on. "Remind me." The "m" a top and bottom lip together and perfecting of the lipstick. The man pulled a wood from a golf bag and slouched against the cart beside the lady. Took the 'frofrilly off the club and put it on the dashboard. "What I'm going to remind you all day is what Father Trese said about married couples."
"And?" She took off a silky, perfumed neckscarf and flopped it over his shoulder.
"DAD! You want pineapple, orange, or tomato?"
A long slow, balloon deflating sigh.
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