Page 142 of The Texas Sterling Collection
The man put the squid on a cutting board and carved a piece, offering it to Rod.
“Should I?” Rod glanced at Wyl.
“Knock yourself out. Just don’t expect me to join you.”
He took the slice of baby squid. “Are you sure I can eat it raw?”
The man nodded.
Rod popped it in his mouth. One bite, and his face developed an expression like he had tasted a rotten lemon dipped in rancid dog pee.
“Mapkim,” he mumbled as loud as he could, shaking his hands wildly at the napkin dispenser atop the counter, avoiding mouth movement.
Wyl took a few napkins from the dispenser and handed them to Rod.
He promptly spat out the squid. “God, that tasted awful.” He grabbed more napkins and swabbed out his mouth. “Remind me not to try anything else.”
The man behind the counter laughed and jabbered something in a foreign tongue to the other person behind the counter. She laughed, too.
“Thanks for the taste,” Rod scowled. Apparently, playing jokes on the visitors was funny. They left the shop.
“Do you need something to drink?”
“Boy howdy!” Rod said. With the horrid taste still in his mouth, he kept the unpleasant expression.“Let’s find a beer or something. Vesuvio is up the street at Columbus. Let’s go have a drink.”
They hurried out of the shop and walked up the street, then through an alley lined with wall art, to find Vesuvio, made famous by Jack Kerouac in the 1960s. Inside, Wyl stood in awe. The bar remained unchanged for 50 years, retaining the charm of the hippie era. Dark woods and retro signage adorned the interior. The relaxed, quaint atmosphere made it the perfect place for Rod to recover from the trauma of foul-tasting seafood. A popular tourist stop, the bar was less crowded before mid-afternoon.
Wyl motioned to an open booth along the wall. “This okay?”
“Looks good to me,” Rod said.
The server approached, and they ordered a beer.
“This place is unbelievable. It’s like stepping back in time.” Wyl said.
“Our parents would have loved it.” Rod took a paper napkin and swabbed his tongue again. “They would have been in their late teens when this bar became popular.
“I still wonder if the Sterlings and the Bonners knew each other. It seems likely, based on that rodeo banner you spied in Blackfield.”
The schooners of beer arrived. Rod drank half of his schooner at once, then breathed a relieved sigh.“I’ll remember that awful taste for years. Don’t you dare mention the word squid to me ever again!” Rod smirked, one eyebrow raised.
“Squid squid squid squid squid,” Wyl joked, jabbing Rod in the ribs.
Rod jerked to the side, away from Wyl’s tickling finger. “Shut up, Wylton.”
They finished their beer, then strolled back down Grant Avenue through Chinatown. Rod hoped to find a souvenir, but nothing caught his eye.
“What do you want to do about dinner?” Wyl asked as they strolled along the crowded street. The noises of shoppers combined with the odd aromas of Chinese cooking assaulted their senses.
Rod stopped walking. “I’m feeling a bit tired. Why don’t we go back to the condo and enjoy an evening in? We can prepare a light supper and catch up on our rest.”
“Whatever you want, babe.”
Strolling back through the main Chinatown gate and down to Market, they caught a trolley to 7th Street, then walked two blocks to their building.
Back in the condo, they stowed their purchases and kicked off their shoes to relax.
“Martini?” Wyl motioned to the bar.
