* * *

I sit taking in the scene. The bar is dark and impersonal. The Famous Fab plays their little set of Beatles songs. John is a little nasally and the Asian George looks as if he is about to go postal. I guess Yoko has already gotten in the mix. Damn her.

Slowly I nurse the beer in front of me. It’s not crowded tonight. I take a quick glance around. No one interesting is in here. Such disappointment. I finished the beer and order another.

Strawberry Fields ends as Let it Be begins. A man walks in. A freak if there is one. He’s a middle-aged white Cliff Huxtable. The sweater he wears is an abomination to the eyes, his pants a bit too tight, his hair a greasy mess, and his sneakers, a gray white of used-ness. The perverted grin makes him certifiable.

Cliff comes to the bar. I casually direct my attention somewhere else so he doesn’t suspect me of giving him the run down. He grabs his drink and heads over to a table in front of the band. Good, he didn’t ask me to dance. Phew.

I start on the beer that I just got. I just take in the scene, tapping my fingers along to Here Comes the Sun.

* * *

I strum my fingers to the beat of Here Comes the Sun, singing along in my head. I notice the girl at the bar. She sits alone. I can tell she’s just taking everything in, not wanting to participate in the games that singles usually play in bars.

Now the guy that just came in, he’s different. He’s dressed for the game, at least in his own mind. But unfortunately he was never invited to play. He’s the kid that was always picked last at recess; a sore thumb in a roomful of fingers. But you got to give him some credit for trying.

We’ve talked before. Maximillian or Axim for short. Quickly approaching 40. An accountant no less, so he knows where he stands in the game, but yet he tries.

Axim usually follows the same routine. He comes in three or four times a week. Tonight a Tuesday and the next time will be Thursday, when The Mandrakes are playing. He’ll get a shot of scotch and a chaser, usually a blonde. This just sets him free. He let things digest, loosening him up, and then he’s game, he’s money.

Let the games begin. As Ringo drums his drums, Axim gets in the groove. A hip shake there, a head bob there, and finally a little boogie shake to throw off any inhibitions that may be left.

He scans the bar. The perverted smile on his face gets bigger. He’s grinning with sleaze. There’s many here tonight, many preys. Axim finally eyes me, a nod of recognition. I raise my glass and offer him a toast of luck. He moves on.

* * *