Nobody

Alone

"Come on over and sit with us, Sam," Bubba said, standing up after the waitress dropped him off a new beer that I'd paid for.

"Sure thing," I said, smiling and getting up. I was letting my Texas accent run.

Bubba probably had a mean streak a mile wild, probably liked to fight, and probably had a whole host of unsavory and unpleasant personality issues.

But that didn't mean he couldn't act like a decent person.

The big thing was not to challenge him, his perceived position, or embarrass him in public. If I avoided those three land mines, I had a good chance of getting out of the tavern without rolling around the floor trading bare knuckle kisses with him.

We headed over to the table, where one short stocky guy and two scrawny guys were sitting. I grabbed a chair, pulling it with me.

When we sat down the other three men squinted at one. One I recognized as the one who has nudged at Bubba as if to remind him that he was going to pick a fight. I gave the guy a big Texas smile without letting it touch my eyes. He flinched back slightly from whatever it was he saw.

We sat down, Bubba with his beer, his buddies with their drinks, and me with my iced tea.

"Heard you rebuilt crooked Mary-Beth's trailer," Bubba said. It felt more like an opener than anything else.

I nodded. "Yup. The frame was good, so was the siding, so I just rebuilt everything else," I told them. "Did some construction when I was younger, so I knew how to work."

"How ya liking it?" Bubba asked me.

I smiled. "I like it. Grew up in Texas, this is a nice change of pace," I told him. I lit a cigarette and pulled the ashtray over by me.

"You were military, huh?" The stocky guy asked, a slight bit of challenge in his tone.

I nodded. "Almost ten years."

"Couldn't hack it no more?" He gave me a vicious grin.

I smiled back. "Army decided I couldn't hack it with half a missing lung, nerve damage, and a leg that needed rebuilt after the enemy got through with me."

His grin got wider. "You get busted up in that bullshit war in 91?" Before I could answer he continued and I knew exactly where he was going. "Maybe if you'd done your job them rag-heads wouldn't have attacked us on nine-eleven."

I gave him a wide grin. "Maybe if you knew a goddamn thing about the Middle East you'd know it was our stationing of women in Mecca with the Patriot wagons that pissed off bin Laden and allowed him to push that the West contaminated it. And maybe, just maybe, if Clinton had paid attention in 1994 when he bombed the World Trade Center the first time, it wouldn't have happened. But, that ain't what happened and I can't change it."

I was going to leave it there, let it slide.

But... something about Sam English didn't let it happen.

I leaned forward. "But no, why don't you tell me all about how much you know about the Middle, you sawed off little runt."

The guy snarled and started to stand up.

Bubba slammed his hand down on the runt's shoulder, pushing him down into his chair. "Sam's a goddamn hero. Won a Silver Star like my grand-pappy did in Korea. You calling him a coward, John-Edward?"

The short guy, John, flinched. "No, Bubba, I mean..."

"Then shut yer goddamn mouth, John-Edward," Bubba growled.

John Edward shut up.

"Don't pay no attention to John-Edward, Sammy, he think's he's a big stud because his brother was a Marine for two years," Bubba said, smiling. "Silver Star, whoo-whee, that can't have been easy to get."