Page 127 of Call the Shots
I stared. “Huh?”
“Why did I let you drag me into this?”
“Bear…?” Montoya asked, confused.
I started to turn to see what Montoya was gawking at, but Nick grabbed my shoulder, fuming. “Did you look upanythingabout this ping pong tournament?”
“Uh, yeah. Free entry, cheap liquor?—”
“Bear.That’sthe place.”
I didn’t understand what he was talking about. It was a brick bar with a handful of mismatched chairs out front. A lady in flannel smoked a cigar out front, the smoke lifted over the colorful flags in the windows. There was a beaver with a trucker hat painted on the wooden door…
I stared. “Is this…?”
“You brought us to a lesbian bar, Bear. A lesbian bar.”
Fridge’s nod confirmed it. “That’s a lesbian bar.”
“No, that’s not…” I whipped out my phone. “The place is calledThe Beaver Dam—oh—and it’s Lady Hole night—huh. U-Hauls should be…parked out back?”
“What’s U-Hauls? That can’t be the moving company.” Montoya dropped his voice. “Is it code for drugs?”
The four of us exchanged looks.
“Are we allowed inside?” Montoya whispered.
“I—uh—don’t know…” I glanced back at Fridge. “Fridge?”
“Don’t look at me, I don’t know.”
“Goddammit,” Nick swore, scrolling on his phone. “Every place around here has an entry fee. We’re broke as shit. I didn’t drive three hoursnotto get drunk. You’re the designated driver, Bear! You’re the one driving back!” He debated before shoving his door open. The three of us followed after Nick, keeping a determined path to the lady, puffing on her cigar. “Hey! Is this the ping pong tournament?”
“Uh-huh,” she said in a gravelly voice.
“It doesn’t cost money?”
“Uh-huh.”
“No entry fee? And cheap drinks?”
“Uh-huh.”
Nick shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay…can we party? We like girls.”
“That’s the general idea of this place, yeah.”
“Are we drinking here?” Montoya whispered.
“I’m not going back to that car, sober,” Nick warned. “Either we get drunk, or I’ll tell the team you ditched them on purpose, Bear.”
“Fine.”
I parked my car and found the guys waiting for me. We weren’t exactly racing inside. June started teaching me the acronyms for gay and trans people, but I wasn’t great with those. If there was an entry-level test, I’d fail. I cleared my throat and took the lead, pushing open the door.
Oh.
It was…a regular dive bar. There were pool tables, and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. Johnny Cash played from the jukebox.
