The Rooster Bar Read Free Page A

schedule, so it made perfect sense to keep borrowing in order to graduate and find one of those lucrative jobs that, in theory, would eventually take care of the debts. Now, though, with only one semester to go, he knew only too well such jobs did not exist.
    If only he’d borrowed $195,000 from a bank and opened his bar. He could be printing money and enjoying life.
    —
    MARK ENTERED THE Old Red Cat just after dark and took his favorite place at the end of the bar. He fist-bumped Todd and said, “Good to see you, man.”
    “You too,” Todd said as he slid over a frosty mug of light beer. With his seniority, Todd could comp anyone he damn well pleased, and Mark had not paid in years.
    With the students away, the place was quiet. Todd leaned on his elbows and asked, “So what are you up to?”
    “Well, I’ve spent the afternoon at dear old Ness Skelton, in the copy room sorting papers that no one will ever read. More stupid work. Even the paralegals look down their noses at me. I hate the place and I haven’t even been hired yet.”
    “Still no contract?”
    “None, and the picture gets fuzzier every day.”
    Todd took a quick sip from his mug stashed under the counter. Even with his seniority, he wasn’t supposed to drink on the job, but his boss wasn’t in. He asked, “So how was Christmas around the Frazier house?”
    “Ho, ho, ho. I lasted ten miserable days and got the hell out. You?”
    “Three days, then duty called and I came back to work. How’s Louie?”
    “Still seriously indicted, still looking at real jail time. I should feel sorry for him but compassion runs thin for a guy who sleeps half the day and spends the other half on the sofa watching
Judge Judy
and bitching about his ankle monitor. My poor mom.”
    “You’re pretty hard on him.”
    “Not hard enough. That’s his problem. No one’s ever been hard on Louie. He got caught with pot when he was thirteen, blamed it on a friend, and of course my parents rushed to his defense. He’s never been held accountable. Until now.”
    “Bummer, man. I can’t imagine having a brother in prison.”
    “Yeah, it sucks. I just wish I could help him but there’s no way.”
    “I won’t even ask about your dad.”
    “Didn’t see him and didn’t hear from him. Not even a card. He’s fifty years old and the proud papa of a three-year-old, so I guess he played Santa Claus. Laid out a bunch of toys under the tree, smiled like an idiot when the kid came down the stairs squealing. What a rat.”
    Two coeds walked to the bar and Todd left to serve them. Mark pulled out his phone and checked his messages.
    When Todd returned, he asked, “Have you seen any grades yet?”
    “No. Who cares? We’re all top students.” Grades at Foggy Bottom were a joke. It was imperative that the school’s graduates finish with sparkling résumés, and to that end the professors passed out As and Bs like cheap candy. No one flunked out of FBLS. So, of course, this had created a culture of rather listless studying, which, of course, killed any chance of competitive learning. A bunch of mediocre students became even more mediocre. No wonder the bar exam was such a challenge. Mark added, “And you really can’t expect a bunch of overpaid professors to grade exams during the holidays, can you?”
    Todd took another sip, leaned even closer, and said, “We have a bigger problem.”
    “Gordy?”
    “Gordy.”
    “I was afraid of that. I’ve texted and tried to call but his phone’s turned off. What’s going on?”
    “It’s bad,” Todd said. “Evidently, he went home for Christmas and spent his time fighting with Brenda. She wants a big church wedding with a thousand people. Gordy doesn’t want to get married. Her mother has a lot to say. His mother is not speaking to her mother and the whole thing is blowing up.”
    “They’re getting married May 15, Todd. As I recall, you and I signed on as groomsmen.”
    “Well, don’t bet on it. He’s already back in town