Chapter 7
BEFORE HITTING SAL’S, I stopped back home and replaced my cut with a blue V-neck cotton shirt and added a baseball cap, just to play it safe. I then drove my black Sierra Denali and parked it up the street from the bar. When I walked inside of the place, I was a little surprised. It was packed for a Tuesday night and many of the customers were jocks and dressed in baseball uniforms. It was loud, people were having fun, and it certainly wasn’t the hole-in-the-wall I’d been expecting. It definitely reminded me more of a sports bar.
“Hey, man, what can I get you?” asked the bartender, a friendly-looking guy in his twenties.
“Michelob,” I replied, sitting down at the end of the bar next to an old man eating popcorn and watching a game on one of the big screen televisions. We nodde
