Press play for some mood music
Aggie slipped into Nunzio's Tavern at about half past ten. The bar was one of those dark daytime joints where lost souls came to meet, greet and get behind that cork with a blinding vengeance. It all reeked of regret and shame.
During this early hour there wasn't much going on except for a morning poker game buried under the neon fizzle of a Lowenbrau sign. Aggie's heels on the linoleum floor seemed to wake the place up for a moment until they realized she was there to make her own act of contrition.
At the bar, she ordered a rye. When Smitty asked what kind, Aggie replied, "The kind that'll do the trick." Then she smiled politely before placing down her purse and heading to the jukebox. No sense in drowning your sorrows if there's no song, she thought.
* * *
She thought of her three men and how they each weren't worth a squirt of piss between them. She also wondered which one was responsible. Dickie, a Salvation Army Santa, was good and honest enough but only seemed to show up when the gettin' was good. Then there was Louie, whose good looks and padded wallet didn't make up for the left hook and apology Aggie sometimes received. And Pete? He was her boss, a stoic leader who unfortunately came with a wife.
More rye. More quarters. More songs.
Lunch came in the form of a BLT ordered from the greasy spoon up the block that delivered. It was better than she expected -- as was her day at Nunzio's.
She marveled at the wisdom but wondered, though, at the same time. How could these dampened men give such great advice when they've made such poor decisions in their own life? By three o' clock she pretty much understood what was so very unspoken in that dark bar to begin with and through everyone's help, Aggie knew what she needed to do.
She kissed the men goodbye, thanked them and stumbled home.
Music: Sam Taylor - Harlem Nocturne