Jackson Lamont walked into the Parsons Pond Club.
"What a fucking dump," he muttered under his breath.
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"Can Ise help youse?" the woman behind the bar offered.
Jackson walked to the bar.
"Beer."
"What kind?"
"Doesn't matter," he answered, uninterested, as he looked around the bar.
The woman put the beer on the bar.
"Dat'll be five bucks."
Lamont dropped a ten dollar bill on the bar, still not looking at the woman.
"Keep the change."
The woman smiled, showing badly yellowed teeth.
"Youse not from 'round here."
Jackson sipped the beer.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Youse lost?"
Jackson shook his head.
"Looking for someone."
"Whose youse lookin' fer?"
"Calvin Parsons."
The woman pointed to a table, at the far end of the bar.
"Calvin bes down dere. Best go quick 'fore 'es too drunk to makes any sense."
Jackson looked at the old clock, over the bar.
"Its only eleven o'clock."
"'e gots a late start dis mornin', but Ise sure 'e will makes up fer it."
Jackson pulled a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.
"Bring another round to the table. I have to talk to Calvin."
Jackson walked through the empty bar and stood near the table.
Calvin Parsons looked up.
YOU ARE READING
Tuckamore Bay
General FictionMatty Dove had 18 months to try and find a buyer for her late grandmother's lighthouse. A buyer who, she hoped, would not only buy the lighthouse, but love the village so much that they would invest time and money into saving the community. In 18 mo...
