The Maine Events, Rodney Riesel [best books to read in your 20s TXT] 📗

“Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Allen quickly scanned the cocktails. “Um … yeah. I, uh, I'llhave one of these Painkillers.”

“Good choice.”

“Is booze ever a bad choice?”

The kid chuckled. “I guess not.”

“Oh, and some water for Frankie.”

The kid glanced down at the panting dog. “Of course.” Heturned, and then spun back around. “I'm Cal, by the way.”

“I'm Allen.”

Cal walked into the building through a set of glass Frenchdoors, at the rear of the deck. Allen looked up over the doorway at a second-floordeck. There were no tables on that deck, only white plastic lounge chairs, anda couple end tables. There were stairs leading from the lower deck to the upperdeck. Underneath the stairs was a door that said restroom.

“You think you can hang here for a second, pal?” Allenasked. “I gotta hit the head.”

Frankie's eyes were closed.

“So … that's a yes?”

Allen got up, crossed the deck, and pulled open the door. Hewas a little startled to see two men already standing in the small 4' x 5'restroom. One of the men, the larger of the two, was about Allen'sheight—almost six feet, but about a hundred pounds heavier. He clutched thefront of the other guy's T-shirt in his right fist and had him backed upagainst the sink. His stubbled face was red. The other guy looked nervous butnot really scared. The smaller guy was bald and had a scar under his right eye.

“What the hell do you want?” the bigger guy demanded andbrought up his left forearm to halt Allen.

Allen grinned. “I just needed to pee.”

“We're in here.”

“I see that.” Allen glanced down at the deadbolt. “If youturn this knob, no one will disturb you and … whoever this guy is.”

The goon released his grip on the smaller guy and reached forAllen. He had fire in his eyes.

“You smart mouth—”

Allen took a step back, and when the guy's arm cleared thedoorway, he swung it closed as hard as he could on the angry man's bicep.

“Ahhh!” the guy cried out.

Allen smacked the bottom of the door with the tow of hissneaker, and with very little effort, wedged it into place. The guy was movinghis hand around in every direction and opening and closing his fist, trying tograb hold of Allen.

“Open the door!” the guy hollered. “Goddammit!”

“Calm down and I'll let you out,” Allen responded. “If not,I can stand here all day.”

“You son of a bitch!”

“Sticks and stones,” said Allen. He looked to his left atthe college guys. They didn't know what to think.

“I'll rip you apart!”

“Threats will only lead to more pain,” Allen warned, andthen threw his shoulder into the door.

“Aargh!” the big guy cried out again.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the waiter.

“Yes, Cal?”

“Were you ready to order?”

“I haven't looked at the menu yet.”

“I have your drink.” In his other hand, Cal held a bowl ofwater.

“Fantastic. Can you just hold the straw up to my mouth so Ican take a sip?”

Cal did as he was asked. Allen took a long sip.

“Oh, that's good, Cal. Did you make that?”

“Yes, I did,” Cal said proudly.

The man with his arm stuck in the door continued to screamthreats and obscenities as Cal and Allen conversed.

“Quiet down!” Allen hollered, and hit the door with hisshoulder again. “This guy is so rude.”

“Um, are you going to let him out of the restroom, sir?”

“As soon as he settles down. Can you put my drink on thetable and grab the menu please?”

Cal walked the five steps to Allen's table. He placed thedrink on the table, the bowl in front of a still sleeping Frankie, and pickedup the menu.

“I swear to God,” the rowdy yelled, “when I get out of here,I'm gonna rip your head off!”

Allen looked at Cal and rolled his eyes. “Hold the menu upso I can read it please.”

Cal held it up to Allen's face.

“Back it up there a bit, Cal. I'm not a young man anymore,and I left my reading glasses in the car.”

Cal pulled back the menu and Allen looked it over.

“I'll just have an order of those wings.”

“Great choice,” said Cal, and he once again disappearedthrough the French doors.

Allen returned his attention to the arm. “If you want me torelease the door, all you have to do is promise not to touch me.”

The guy was silent for a few seconds, and then Allen heardthe two men whispering. He put his ear closer to the door, but couldn't makeout what they were saying.

“It's not nice to whisper,” Allen said. “It makes othersfeel left out.”

“Okay, let me out,” the guy said calmly. “I won't touchyou.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“I think you also owe me an apology.”

“I'm sorry,” the guy said, obviously through clenched teeth.

“Now see, that wasn't so hard, was it?” Allen released histoe hold on the door and readied himself for what he knew was a phony apology.

The ruffian shoved open the door with both hands. It slammedagainst the wall behind it. The guy may have looked angry before, but it wasnothing compared to the look on his face when he stepped out of the restroom.His eyes bulged, his face was almost as red as his eyes, and a massive veinprotruded from the center of his forehead. A single drop of sweat ran from abovehis left eye, around the brow, and down his cheek. He took one step towardAllen, froze, and grabbed his chest.

Allen stepped aside as the three-hundred-pounder toppledforward and hit the deck face first. The entire lower deck shook, wakingFrankie. The dog jumped to his feet.

Allen glanced over at Mya, who was just then bringing aparty of four up the steps and onto the deck. She looked at Allen, and thendown at the guy on the deck.

“Looks like you just missed the show, folks,” said Mya.“Today's act was a supermodel dog and his comedian owner. Some real funnyshit.”

“Should we call 911?” one of the ladies in the group asked.

“Probably be a good idea,” Mya replied.

The second man stepped out of the restroom. He stared downat the unconscious man. “The boss ain't gonna like this,” he said,straightening the front of his T-shirt. “Nope, he ain't