Playing With Fire Read Free Page B

Watching their interaction closely, Romeo found himself focusing his full attention on the old man. He looked familiar, Romeo thought to himself, the man’s aged features reminding him of an acquaintance he might know, but couldn’t quite place. Then, as Odetta threw back her head, laughing briskly, he didn’t think he looked familiar at all. Romeo felt his body relax. He found the sensation awkward since he wasn’t quite sure why he’d become tense in the first place.
    Romeo glanced down to the small black clock perched on the counter below the bar top. The digital numbers glowed in the dim light. It was half past eight. He sighed, knowing that business would soon pick up in spite of the rain. Folks would never let a few raindrops keep them away from a good time, and Romeo worked hard to ensure his patrons always had a good time. As he busied himself in preparation, Odetta’s sudden return pulled him away from his thoughts.
    â€œLooks like you made a new friend,” Romeo said teasingly.
    Odetta laughed, the warmth of it helping to brighten the room. “He’s actually kind of sweet. I like him.”
    â€œYou like all old black men,” Romeo said. He leaned his body against the bar, staring down at her.
    â€œThat’s not true,” she said, her smile widening. “I like old men, period. I don’t discriminate.” She chuckled warmly. “Anyways, the man said he doesn’t want anything but a glass of ice water,” she said, still chomping heavily on the gum in her mouth. There was a mild glimmer in her eyes, as if the duo had shared a secret no one else had been privy to.
    Romeo raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.
    â€œTold him this won’t no homeless shelter,” she said, heaving her thick body onto a bar stool in front of him. She paused, taking a deep inhale before finishing her comments. “Then he said good ’cause he preferred sleeping on the park bench. He’s just an old fool,” she said, a loud huff of air blowing out her last words. “He’s sweet though, and too fresh,” she concluded, chuckling under her breath ever so softly. “That’s one fresh old man. He actually had me blushing and you know that takes some doing!”
    Romeo looked toward the man, who was himself staring in Romeo’s direction. They studied each other momentarily, then the elderly man’s dark, sunken eyes dropped down toward the table, looking as if he’d been caught doing something he had no business doing. Reaching to the counter behind him for a clean glass, Romeo filled it with chipped ice and cold water, and handed it to Odetta. “Here, take this to him. Tell him this one’s on the house.”
    â€œYou need to throw the old fool out with his fresh self,” Odetta muttered as she took the glass from his hand, pulling herself up off her seat. “Shoot. If the water’s free I guess I can’t be expecting no tip.”
    Romeo laughed. “Be nice, Ms. Brown. You know good and well that I’ll take care of you.”
    â€œHmph,” Odetta grunted, turning to deliver the cold drink to the stranger.
    Romeo watched as the old guy nodded in his direction, then lifted the glass in a gesture of appreciation before pulling it toward his lips.
    Romeo shook his head, eyeing the stranger, who was still stealing glances in his direction. After drinking his fill of the icy fluid, the old man rose from where he sat and moved slowly toward the bar, the two men still locked eye to eye.
    The small club was comfortable, the senior citizen thought to himself, his stare moving from the young man behind the bar and skating around the expanse of tables and the drunks who filled the seats. Music hummed from the speakers and his head bobbed slowly as he inhaled each slow note. They were playing an eclectic mix of blues, fitting for the cold rain that fell outside. At that moment Etta James was singing a duet with