“I thought you were a married man,” said Killian innocently.
“Ah, she don’t count. Just an Irish b***h who’s always naggin’ me,” Louie slurred.
Killian felt like punching Louie in his weasel face but didn’t.
A few minutes later, they pulled into a parking lot next to a low-class joint with a red and green blinking neon sign and went inside. Big-shot Louie knew most everyone in the small place and waved as they took a table in the back of the saloon, near the multi-colored jukebox.
It wasn’t long before a couple of attractive, but hard-looking, girls in their twenties joined them. For the next hour, they drank, danced and talked. The two women didn’t pay much attention to Killian and Louie’s conversation, as they were clearly just in it for a fun time and free drinks.
Later that evenin
