Chapter Five
REX
White strings of Christmas lights hung from the ceiling year round, polluted by a rainbow of neon colors shining from various beer and liquor lights. The result was an eerie pinkish red glow cast over everything from all the dark brown wood to the exposed brick walls in the dimly lit dive bar.
Seated at my regular spot, I surveyed the patrons. At the far end, closest to the exit, sat Mike Carpenter, shoulders drooped low, back bowed, his head hanging down as he stared into a glass of amber liquid. He’d been laid off after more than twenty years working in construction and had no real prospects.
A few stools down was old Mary Whipple, white hair perfectly coifed in an up-do, body poured into skin-tight spandex, a Virginia Slim clamped between two fingers while idly swir
