“Wow,” said Manfred, when he parked by a huge cutout of Yosemite Sam. “Cool sign. But weird.”
“Hmmm,” said Fiji. “Interesting.”
Olivia just smiled broadly. “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she said. “By the way, we’re looking for a guy named Deck Powell.”
Manfred walked into the bar with an unaccustomed feeling of pride. He was accompanied by two attractive women, both older than himself. Fiji had made an attempt to style her hair, which had resulted in a headful of brown curls in a sort of Shirley Temple effect. She’d worn a flirty black skirt, a black and green patterned shirt that emphasized her bosom (and there was plenty to emphasize), and some black heels, which she managed with more grace than Manfred had expected. Olivia had worn designer jeans, a halter top beneath a kind of mesh sweater (since, after all, it was early October), and boots that boosted her up way above Manfred. Olivia led the way and paid their cover charge, and while they were being shown to their table, Olivia’s eyes were everywhere.
Manfred realized that Olivia was armed. He didn’t know what kind of weapon she was carrying or where it might be—her purse? Strapped to her leg?—but he could read her well enough to know she was ready for trouble.
Manfred thought, I’m more worried, and yet I feel safer.
Actually, he felt pretty badass. One of the ladies with him could freeze you, and one could defend him with weapons.
The waitress appeared at their table in a pleasantly short time. She correctly identified Olivia as the group alpha and turned to her first.
“Mezcal, straight up. Extra añejo, if you got it,” Olivia said.
“Reposado okay?”
“That’ll do.”
Fiji looked blank during this exchange, and she ordered a glass of chardonnay. Manfred thought he might look wussy if he ordered wine, too, but his talent sometimes acted up if he drank too much. He settled on a Michelob.
He had time to look at the walls while they waited for the drinks. “Damn,” he said.
“I agree,” said Fiji, staring. The walls were decorated like a crazy day care center, with three-foot-tall cartoon characters in a frieze that circled the room. Manfred couldn’t figure out how they’d been made, but they were expertly drawn and mounted. SpongeBob SquarePants and Foghorn Leghorn, Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny, Porky Pig and Marge Simpson, Jessica Rabbit and Meg Griffin, Wile E. Coyote and WALL-E.
They were all drinking alcoholic beverages.
“I’m sure the Disney lawyers would like to know about this,” Manfred murmured. “And that’s just the first company on the list.”
“I didn’t expect to find something this bold and bizarre in Marthasville,” Fiji said.
Marthasville, about thirty-five miles west of Midnight, had pretensions to artiness. With a population of fifty thousand, it was a sizable town compared to Midnight, and it was in another county. There was a whole row of bars in Marthasville, and they were all decorated and themed. The presence of a college may have accounted for the bar boom, but the age range of patrons went from lean dried-up men in their seventies (wearing cowboy hats as part of their normal attire) to young people who were just barely legal, like Manfred.
When their costumed waitress returned with their drinks, Manfred noticed that she was dressed and styled as Wilma Flintstone. Another waitress was Betty Boop. The bartender was a superhero—maybe Aquaman?
He laughed out loud. “This,” Manfred said, “is a great bar.”
“It’ll be a greater one if we can find out what we need to know,” Olivia said.
“How do we do that?” he asked, confident she had a plan.
Olivia shook her head, as if she despaired for him. She looked from him to Fiji, making mental calculations. “You and Feej make a more credible couple than you and me,” she said. Manfred didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted, so he just nodded. “Okay, here’s our scenario,” Olivia said, and they bent their heads together like experienced conspirators.
The next time their waitress approached the table (and since Olivia had tipped big, that was pretty soon), Manfred said, “Wilma, maybe you can help us out, here? My friend Livvy has a blind date with a guy, but we don’t see anyone who looks like the picture she got, and we’re afraid he’s standing her up.”
“Wilma” looked from Manfred to Olivia. She seemed to be trying to decide if he was joking. “Anybody who’d skip out on a date with her has to be out of his mind,” Wilma said frankly. She seemed relieved to be standing still for a moment.
“True, but maybe he doesn’t know that,” Manfred said. “Guy name of Deck Powell?”
“Deck? Deck has a date with you?” Wilma looked at “Livvy” with flattering disbelief. “He must have been praying hard, or your brother owes him money, or something. He’s usually in by now. I’ll come over and tell you when I see him.”
“Oh, thanks,” Manfred said. Olivia did her best to look embarrassed by the whole situation. Manfred ordered another round of drinks because he figured it was his turn, and he tipped Wilma as liberally as Olivia had. Wilma gave him a surreptitious wink.
None of them had quite finished the first round, so their table began to look a little crowded when the fresh drinks came. Fiji took care of her original glass of wine and lifted her second. She said, “I’d take pictures of the walls with my phone, but I’m afraid the bouncer would step on it and crush it. Not that I would mind if he came over.”
Manfred glanced over at the door. The bouncer was a hard, handsome man with some miles on him. “Fiji, I’m betting you don’t drink a lot,” he said, trying to suppress a smile.
“I don’t,” she confessed. “How did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess.”
“You think he’d like my phone number?”
“Feej, that guy is tough as nails, and he’s not only been around the block, he’s run a marathon. He could eat you for breakfast,” Olivia said, half smiling.
“And wouldn’t that be a great way to wake up?” Fiji said, with a broad wink. Manfred laughed; he couldn’t help it.
“Wilma” caught Manfred’s eye. She tilted her head toward the bar. A newcomer stood there waiting for his drink, and he wasn’t looking around at the walls like a first-time visitor. He was looking at the people. He had a receding chin with a sort of billygoat beard, a nose that had been broken more than once, and prominent blue eyes.