Freddy And The Sun God

When Freddie stepped into the bar he was God Damned pissed. The deal had gone south. At the end of a huge amount of effort and time, not to mention promises, implied and expressed, the whole fucking thing had come crashing down. Oh, and there was the money, of course. There was always the money. The fucking money. It along with everything else was gone. And that made him, well, he said it once already. No use in restating the obvious.

He entered the bar and jammed himself onto a stool. Some part of him chose the place because it looked like somewhere a guy who was God Damned pissed could chill out, have a beer and maybe enjoy the ocean. Fuck the world and all that was in it. Time to relax. Except that was easier said than done.

"Fuck!" he said, slamming his fist down on the bar and running his hands through his hair.

This drew a look from the bartender, leaning against the back wall, reading a financial magazine. Freddy glanced over at her, his first thoughts apologetic. His second thoughts, more carnal.

He looked to the door, as if by going back out again, he could do something about it all. His common sense told him he couldn't and that made him forget the bartender.

"God Dammit!" he said, a different invective at the same volume.

This brought the bartender up. She pushed off the wall and stood, looking to the wide open sliding glass doors that comprised the rear of the bar. Beyond was a large deck overlooking the sun and blue water of the pacific. Stepping through that space was a muscle bound sun god and two of his minions. Surf shorts and open Hawaiian shirts the official uniform.

"Everything, all right, Margarite?" the sun god said, his heavenly host standing to either side of him.

Freddy looked to the front door again, then down at the bar. Finally, he looked over at the sun god. All three had their eyes fixed on him. Freddy looked straight ahead, and then stood up.

"Sorry. I didn't come here for trouble. I've had enough of that for one day," he said, pushing off the stool and looking around.

Half way to the door, he stopped.

"You've got a nice place here," he said, then put his hand on the handle.

A shove brought the door open, a blast of hot air, smelling of asphalt, felt like insult to injury.

"Hey!" the sun god said.

Freddy looked over his shoulder, thinking now maybe he wasn't getting off so easy, ready for a fight and not caring if he lost. In the sun god's hand, two icey cold bottles of beer.

"You think it's nice in here, you should see out back," he said.

Turning, the sun god headed for the ocean. Freddy stood there. He looked at the bartender, who just smiled.

"Go ahead, Billy'll talk you off whatever ledge you're on," she said, reopening her financial magazine.

A final look at the front door, he let go and followed the sun god into the light.