Mystery Man

We had to go into one of the unproductive meetings we had at the restaurant where Larry and I worked. The Greek would scream about how the entire staff sucked and was fucking ruining his business. he would eventually calm down, the meeting would adjourn and we would go out drinking. i hadn't worked with Larry long so i thought we ought to go out and get something to eat and chat a bit before we hit the bars. In those days, I liked restaurants a lot more than I do now. I had a professional curiousity about how other places did things. Plus dinner would be a more civilized way of getting to know Larry better than a noisy bar.

But there was to be no getting to know Larry better. I had already ascertained from work that he was a fairly quiet guy. I understood that. I'm not a real chatterbox myself. I figured that polite dinner conversation was in order. I asked Larry where he had gone to school.

"I'm not saying", he replied. "Why do you need to know that?"
I didn't need to know that. It was just a simple, innocuous question, one that anyone who had ever gone to school before could answer.

Not Larry. That and where he had grown up, where he lived now and even- and i'm serious about this- his last name, were not for public consumption.

Wow. I work with the guy, drink beer with him and was sitting down to a meal with him, and he wouldn't even say where he had gone to highschool.

He told me that he would never lie. He opted instead to not discuss his personal life with anyone, at all.

Well, that's weird but, I really didn't much care. If mundane information was top-secret in his life, that was his business. Fast forward a couple of decades, and I am the same way on the internet. Some people IRL will tell you there whole life story within ten minutes of knowing you. Some people take longer to open up.

A few months after that informative dinner, our cocktail waitress, Bonnie, asked for a ride to her boyfriend's bar. She promised a couple of free drinks if one of us would take her. I said sure. I knew enough about her boyfriend to not like him. He was a coke dealer, he carried a 45 and his bar served just about anyone near the age of 16 or better. That was his business. We figured we'd check it out for a couple of beers and move on.

Between closing our bar and "a few beers" we found ourselves closing the dealers bar. After last call we finished our beers outside by our cars and watched the under aged crowd stagger about. Larry was telling me a story about whatever when I saw Bonnie approach the boyfriend. She was crying. Next, he threw her on the ground. I rushed over.

I told him to get his fucking hands off of her. He looked at me incredulous and asked why.

Because, I told him, you don't hit women!

I thought about the 45. I thought about the six bouncers moving into position. I thought about beating his ass but there were now seven reasons not to to this.

The kid was done man-handling her. His lead bouncer went over to talk to him. The others eye-balled me. What would happen?

The bouncer came to me and thanked me. I appreciated that. He asked me if I would take her home. Bonnie was beyond hysterical by now and her only other option was the drunk boyfriend. That couldn't be good.

Go home with this guy, Bonnie, he said, He'll take care of you.

I led Bonnie back to my car. I had forgotten about Larry. Incredibly, he began to pick up his story where he had left off. I sarcastically thanked him for having my back and told him i'd deal with him later. Un-fucking-believable.

In the car, Bonnie was as inconsolable as a wounded child. She seemed to hyperventilate as she tried to talk through her tears. She refused to tell me where she lived. She wanted only to go to "his" house. As I drove out of range, I told her that wasn't gonna happen. She had parents. Where did they live? My apartment was an option but, not a good one. I had neighbors who appreciated my quiet existence even if they didn't say so. After ten of the longest, loudest minutes of my life, we agreed that I would take her to the boyfriend's parents house. I was only reasonably sure that he lived elsewhere but, if I met a mom and dad, I had done all I could. Daddy had raised him, daddy could deal with him. I explained the circumstances to the folks, and headed off, disgusted with Larry, Bonnie and the dealer.

Life can turn on a dime and stop on a penny. Bonnie wasn't physically hurt by the punk. In his altered state, shooting me could have been an option. As it was, he had displayed no pistol. The bouncers could have gone to town on me. But, in the end, nobody got hurt. I was disappointed in Larry, of course but, it's not like we were old school buddies... Least ways I came out of that night unscathed and newly armed with the knowledge that Larry could not be counted on in combat situations. Some guys are friends and you just know about them. Some guys you just drink with and wonder why.

I got over my anger at Larry but kept him at a distance. Bonnie quit her job the next day. Several weeks later I learned that Larry and Bonnie had been having a secret affair, before, during and after that night. Funny that the motherfucker never mentioned that over beers...

Some people you never really know. Others you know too well. Even if you don't know where they went to highscool.