Love Hurts - A noir vignette

The day was bleeding out into the dusty front bar of the Tattersall Hotel. It had been a big day in the small town. The annual goat races were a big draw card in Barcaldine and the rest of the hoopla hung about the main event snapping up punters like a fly zapper on a veranda. There was more of a scene going on down the road at the Shakespeare, but I preferred the crowd here. They were as lively as a jar of pickles with livers just as well preserved, but they mostly left me alone.

Besides, I was waiting for Tamara and I didn’t wanna have to jostle at the bar while I was with her. I wanted to enjoy every minute of her company with the privacy of people well-mannered enough to mind not stare too much. Because Tamara got stares. A lot of stares. It didn’t bother me too much. Mostly. Besides, a guy my size could usually stare at pretty much anyone and they wouldn’t stare back for too long.

I had been waiting a while, keeping one eye on the window while the sun set and I sipped my through my fourth Jammy and soda and suddenly there she was. Like a left jab to the breadbasket she took my breath away. She wore her long black hair down and dressed in the short blue dress bought special for the goat races she was too good for this scene and a washed up boxer like me.

Tamara practically floated up the footpath to the hotel and was headed right to me. Then I saw the look in her eye. My stomach did a little readjustment as I watched the pack of three big apes in shiny suits tailing her, and calling something out from behind her back. They wore grins on their monkey faces and their catcalls were as cheap as their white shoes. I pulled a pineapple and left it on the bar. It was a big tip, but I knew I might need a friend with tight lips in a short while.

As Tamara stepped up to the door I stepped out and into the path of the goons. A small grin curled up the side of my mouth as I saw Tamara’s mock disapproving look. Three of them, one of me. Love hurts, but not for me. Not tonight.