...The bar made the news after a drunk was paralyzed out back. I was busing the patio near dark when this asshole stood on the ledge drunk. He wanted to dive in. His wife and his friends egged him on. So he dove in and stuck there. Two of his friends each grabbed a boot and pulled him onto the patio. He had busted his neck and the break had severed his spinal cord. It was a big deal for a while. The owner’s mother had to hang a no diving sign.

Driving home was depressing. I was covered in dried sweat and grease. Weekends were the worst. The bar across the street crawled with disgusting things. It wasn’t like the gay bars on the West Coast. These men were fucked over and dirty. There wasn’t a good scene for young people anywhere in the city. There were the bars around the corners of the city, where the students from Bradley University drank, but the crowd was even worse. I’d tried the gay bar one night when I was sick with boredom. I walked across the street and ducked in. It was a big place. A fat guy with a beard saw me and grabbed my hand when I walked by:

“Hey, dude! Sit right here.”

I pulled my hand away and wiped it across my pants. The bartender was gay and tired.

“What can I get you, baby?”

I shook my head and reached for some money, “Just a coke.”

He set the coke down.

“How much?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I put a dollar on the bar. All eyes were upon me. I looked into the mirror across the bar. There I was. Every city across the country and I was in that mirror. A big blonde was growing bigger in the mirror behind me. It came out of the bathroom. Big heels and a tight skirt. The face was bad, it was rough and full of pits. The shins were full of veins and muscle. The wig was crooked. The make-up was thick and bumpy. Big ugly hands. It sat next to me:

“My name is Alice.”

“Sure it is.”

“I perform here.”

“Right.”

“My stage name is Miss Coa-Coa.”

I looked around the bar. There was a stage in the next room. A banner hung across the top:

COME OUT OF THE CLOSET, PEORIA!

A lighter was immediately in front of my smoke. I dug my lighter from my pocket, I got it.”

I lit up and took a drink. He set his lighter on the bar, “Attitude. I like that.”

“Goodnight, Alice.”

“Come on, now.”

The bartender walked over and took my glass.

“Another coke?”

“Yes.”

Alice hadn’t left. He looked around the bar and sighed.

“You ain’t attracted to me at all?”

“No. I’m not.”

He started crying. I thought he was joking. But he was crying. The bartender shook his head at me. I actually felt bad.

“Alice, come on. That’s not necessary. I’m straight is all.”

“No, you don’t understand what it’s like. Look at me. Where else can I go in this town? I’m big and ugly and gay. Oh, God!”

“Why don’t you try San Fran?”

“With what money?”

“Right. I’m in the same boat. I want to get out of here, too.”

He straightened up and looked at me.

“You hate it here, too?”

“Damned right.”

“But you’re so young and beautiful. Why don’t you just fly away?”

“That’s enough.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was born here. I stopped through to see my brother. I met a girl at his bar and I moved in with her. You can figure out the rest.”

“That stupid bitch.”

“You got that right.”

I used to sit

in the old room and

hammer out poems

like I was sinking

nails at work

the machine was

brown, loud and

ugly

and the keys

struck the paper

like lightning

and thunder

and it pushed

the air out and away

and into the red brick walls

and through the vents

and cracks along

the window caulk

and out into the world

and the air,

full with words,

shot out of the house

and up into the night sky

scintillating beautifully

and beating down upon

the doors like

rain.

I walked over to the jukebox, put a dollar in and played some Don Williams. I vacuumed the rugs and did the dishes. It was almost one in the morning. I had another hour to wait. I couldn’t total out until I locked the door, so I counted my tips. A hundred and forty-seven dollars clear. A few more weeks like this and I could be alright. I made myself a large Jack Coke and sat at the corner of the bar. I lit up and unbuttoned my long-sleeve. It was hot in the bar. I set my shirt on the bar and zoned out. I finished the drink and set the garbage bags by the back door. The front door opened and the cold air shot in.

“You closed?”

“Not yet. You still have a good hour.”

His name was Blanks. I never knew his first name. I knew he lived south between the bar and Bend with his wife and two boys. I hadn’t seen him in over a month. He was addicted to the machines. He played poker constantly. The last time he was in he blew his whole two week’s pay. He was a famous loser in the county. He had big sorry eyes and a droopy mustache. He sat at the bar, “Walked here from Goodwater’s. Old lady took the car back. We had a fight.”

“I hear you.”

“Bottle of Bud.”

I opened the bottle for him. He walked over and sat behind the poker machine. He held up a roll of bills, “You see this? Nine hundred dollars. I’m going to turn this into a small fortune. Right here, right now.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Fuck it. I’m due.”

I went back to the walk-in and hauled out some bottles and rotated the beer case behind the bar. I wheeled out a replacement keg and set it under the taps in the cooler for the morning bartender. It had been a heavy night for house drafts and she was old and weak. I set the clean glasses back and wiped down the bar one more time.

“Another bottle of Bud.”

I walked it over. He handed me a twenty, “Keep it.”

“Blanks, you need to hold onto this.”

“Ah, fuck it. I’m already up three hundred.”

“Walk away now. Twelve hundred dollars is a lot of money.”

His eyes were sick with fever: “No. I have unfinished business with this fucking machine. Remember the last time I was in here? This motherfucker took six hundred away from the table.”

“These machines are designed to win. Once in awhile somebody gets lucky, but that’s all it is.”

“Bullshit. This thing is MINE.”

“Alright.”

I stood behind the bar and drank my drink.

He yelled: “Ha! Sixteen hundred! Here we fucking go! Bring it on, you motherfucker!”

I totaled out the till. It was a good night for Buck and Tammy. I rolled the receipt and wrapped a rubber band around it. I walked back into the office and set the deposit bag in the safe. I walked out and picked up my drink, “How’s it going, Blanks?”

“Fucker has me down to five hundred. I’m not worried, though. It’s just fucking with me.”

By a quarter to close he was dead broke. He walked over to the bar and plopped down, “Son of a bitch. That was my rent and bills.”

I didn’t say anything. He dropped his head on the bar and started crying. He sobbed about how his wife was going to be pissed at him and how his kids had no food. He was pathetic there. He sat up and stared at me, “Hey, about that twenty. I might need that for a cab.”

“I put it under the ashtray.”

He looked over and swiped it up. I walked in the back and grabbed my coat and gloves. I watched him from the kitchen window. He went to the machine and fed it the twenty. It was gone instantly. He screamed and hit the machine. I walked around and lit up. Five minutes to close.

“Blanks, I have to shut it down. I’m sorry.”

“How am I getting home?”

“I don’t know.”

He leaned over the bar, “Listen, loan me a hundred dollars. That machine is just waiting to pay out. I’ll give you half of what I win.”

“No fucking way. I have bills and rent. I can’t afford to piss my money away on the fucking lottery.”

He sobbed and wiped his face, “What am I going to do?”

I called a cab. I had gotten to know Jerry over the phone but I only saw his face through the opened door of the bar.

“Burris cab.”

“Hello, Jerry. Blanks needs a ride home.”

“Does he have money?”

“I’ll get the fare. Can you hurry?”

“I’m turning the corner now.”

I hung up, “I’ll get the cab ride. I have to close up. Jerry’s almost here. I’m sorry, Blanks.”

He downed his beer and slid the bottle over to me. I trashed it. Jerry stuck his head in the door, “Let’s go, Blanks.”

I handed him a twenty and five ones, “He has twenty five bucks, Jerry. Is five dollars good enough for a tip?”

“It’s fine. Talk to you later.”

Blanks walked to the door with the money. There was a machine by the pool table near the front door. He hesitated and looked at me. I reached over and flipped off the lights over the pool tables.