Excerpted from the unpublished novel: GOLIATH’S GATE

CHAPTER 6: McAllister’s

Jason Whitman’s birthday parties were always on Saturday afternoon whether or not it was his real birthday. This year his real birthday was Thursday and his mom always had a special celebration dinner. She always made Jason’s favorite things and baked a special cake that she frosted with whipped cream that was really good. I know, I had some once the day after. It was one of the few times his dad was expected to be home.

Well, Thursday around seven o’clock Jason showed up in front of my house, all hot from biking over. I went outside.

"Hey, Ned. Wanta go for a ride?"

I looked at him like he was crazy. Number one, it was after dinner, number two the Lone Ranger was on.

"My dad didn’t come home," he said. "My mom says she won’t call the bar again. She says if I show up he’ll come home."

"Your birthday dinner?"

"Yeah. You want to? It’ll only take a minute."

It wasn’t going to take a minute. Anything about his dad and the bar could never take a minute. Besides I hated his father, I hated the way he acted, I hated the way he treated Jason and his mom, I hated everything about him.

Jason pleaded with me. "Come on, Ned. I hate going down there alone. If you’re with me he’ll be better."

I really didn’t want to go.

"We don’t have to go in. We’ll just knock on the door and ask him to come."

By this time my mom came out. She wished Jason happy birthday and invited him in. He said he had to go into town and asked if I could come, and she, reluctantly, said I could if I was back in half an hour.

From my house there’s a windy, downhill road that leads to the river. It’s a really good, quick ride. Coming back is the hard part.

We shot down and in five minutes were pedaling south along the river. It’s a quiet part of town with just a few houses. Nobody wants to live down there because it’s right across from the Landing. Some day, when people get over it, there’ll be great, properties to be had.

McAllister’s was a little tavern located south of the bridge on the Clayton side of the river, but it might as well have been in The Landing. It was that kind of place. It had the usual beer signs, and a parking lot out front that never seemed to be full. Inside was a pool table, a jukebox, six tables, three booths, a chandelier made of deer antlers and a sixteen foot long bar cut from a single piece of cherry wood. The restrooms were marginally clean. It had seen better days.

McAllister’s was Hanroy Whitman’s home away from home. Not a day went by that he didn’t stop in, at least once, and he could always be found there between four and seven. Mrs. Whitman never knew if he’d be home for dinner. He seldom called and she stopped expecting him. She and Jason ate alone unless I was over or somebody else.

"Let’s go this way," Jason said. He turned off the road onto a dirt path that looped down by the river. It took us down and around some bushes out of sight of the bar.

"What’s wrong with the parking lot?" I asked.

"I don’t want anyone to see me till I’m ready."

Once we’d passed the tavern Jason said, "up here," and began pushing his bike up through the brush. The beer signs were starting to win the battle with dusk when we emerged beside a big tree near the corner of the tavern. Jason leaned his bike against it and dropped down on all fours. "Come on," he whispered, crawling toward the bar. He’s always been like that. He loves to sneak around and spy on people. It made me nervous. Especially sneaking up not on some other kids but on a bar. My mother didn’t like bars and they frightened me. They were for grown ups and I knew it was against the law for me to be inside. Plus, Jason’s dad was there.

We crawled up to a window at the downriver end of the tavern and I could hear some guy on the juke box singing, "I didn’t know God made honkey-tonk angels." Rising up slow, we found ourselves looking at some woman’s hind end with a man’s hand on it. I gasped, "Oh, shit," and ducked down. Jason just stayed there and gave me a push.

"They don’t know we’re here."

I forced myself back up. You couldn’t really see around them. They were practically standing against the window, her butt and his hand.

Someone inside yelled, "hey, what’re you two up to?"

The behind wiggled and the woman yelled back: "Wouldn’t you like to know."

Everybody laughed.

The first voice said, "Well, get my damn hamburger first!"

"Keep your shorts on," she said. There was more laughing, and as she pushed away from the window the hand gave her butt a big smack.

Jason whispered, "Crap, it’s my dad."

We both hit the dirt; then crawled around the corner to where there were no windows and sat against the building.

"That’s Charlotte," Jason said.

"Who’s she?"

"A waitress. My dad’s known her for years."

‘ He sure has,’ I wanted to say.

Jason heaved a sigh, "I guess we better get him."

My heart sank.

We crept under the windows and around to the door. Jason got up and knocked. Nobody came. He knocked again but I didn’t think anybody could have heard with the juke box going and all that laughing. He started to knock a third time then turned to me and said, "We should go in."

I pointed to my watch. "My mom said a half hour." It was up in about five minutes.

"Just for a minute."

"I don’t want to."

"It’s just a bar."

"Kids aren’t allowed."

"Nobody cares. My dad took me in when I was really little."

"I’ll wait outside."

"No, he has to see you!"

Jason came over to me, his eyes wide with anxiety. "You’ve got to Ned. I can’t go in without you. My dad’ll be different if you come. He can’t be the other way if someone’s there. Please!"

He made a fist and held up his arm, wrist toward me, invoking the blood brother ritual. It was the strongest argument either of us could make with the other. I groaned. It wasn’t fair.

"Once my dad sees you, stay for two minutes and make an excuse. OK?"

"OK," I said.

We walked to the door.

Smoke and warm air smelling of beer, cigarettes, and frying beef came pouring out. I closed the door. For only three or four cars in the parking lot those people made a lot of noise.

As I waited for my eyes to adjust, the waitress swished out with a couple of plates in her hand and said, "Well what have we here?"

Jason said, "Hi," in a weak voice.

She called out to the bartender, "Hey, Mage, we checkin’ ID’s tonight?"

Everybody looked over and laughed.

She took the plates to two guys in a booth and I heard Jason’s dad’s voice from the bar. "Jason? Is that you?"

My stomach went through the floor.

He came over frowning. I thought he was going to hit us. Then he broke into a big grin, and said, real loud, "It’s the birthday boy!" The next thing you know he was giving Jason a big hug and announcing to the bar, "Hey, everybody, this is my boy, Jason. He’s ten years old today!"

A weak cheer went up, there was a smattering of applause.

The waitress came over, and said, "I didn’t recognize him he’s growed so big! Hi, Jason. Remember me?"

He nodded.

She turned to me, "And who’s this?"

"That’s Ned, Jason’s best friend."

Jason’s dad patted my shoulder. I got a whiff of booze and cigarette breath.

Charlotte focused on Jason. "Do you really remember me?"

"Yes, ma’am."

"Because I remember you… when was it?" She turned to Mr. Whitman, "three years ago?"

"Five."

"Oh God, where’s it all go? Five years… Come on in boys, sit down, take a load off."

She led us to a booth and Jason’s dad ordered a couple of cokes. I let Jason slide in first. My half hour was shot and I wanted to be able to get out at the first opportunity.

Charlotte was talking to the bar and Jason at the same time. "Hanroy brung him in here when he was just a little thing. I remember I give you my pencil and you drew on the placemat."

"Oh, he’s a great drawer, this kid can draw anything," his father said. "You want to draw something, Jason?"

Jason swallowed, "Dad…"

"Never mind," Mr. Whitman said, watching his son solicitously. "You want something to eat, Jason?" He turned to the bartender, "Hey, it’s his birthday… let’s get him something to eat."

Charlotte bent over with her pad. "What would you like, honey?"

"We’re supposed to go home," Jason muttered.

The bartender came over and put two cokes down in front of us. "Bring some jerky and munchy stuff," Jason’s dad said as he left. "You boys can have a little something with your coke."

I was getting ready to say ‘I’ve got to go,’ when Charlotte started up.

"You remember that night?" she nudged Jason’s dad.

"Never forget it."

Including the rest of the bar, she launched into the story. "He was just a little thing, just five or six, and we give him a placemat and a pencil to play with and he says what shall I draw? Well, I said ‘a house’ and this one…" she poked Jason’s dad, "…this one says draw us the factory!"

That got a big laugh. Nobody who hung out at McAllister’s liked anything about the Whitman Tool Company.

"… so he starts drawing and he makes this factory and it’s dark and it’s got these scary trees outside and the river going by, and he draws where the production lines are and then he draws the offices and his dad says, ‘which office is Millers?’ and he makes this face like he’s tasted something bad and says, ‘this one.’ She made a face like Jason was supposed to have made.

Mr. Whitman roared, along with the rest of the bar.

"Then he draws this big pile of stuff inside Miller’s office... so I asked what’s that… and he looks up…" She was laughing so much she was having a hard time telling it. "…he looks up smart as you please… and he tells me, ‘poop!’"

They roared. It was catching.

I leaned over and whispered, "Did you really do that?"

He said, "Yeah." Then we were laughing too.

The bartender showed up, threw down a package of pork rinds, some jerky, and a couple of bags of peanuts, and said, "Here you go boys, on the house. Happy birthday, Jason."

Now, Charlottes waving her hands, trying to control herself. "That wasn’t the best part, you’ve got to hear this – right after he says that…" She busted out laughing again, which made Jason and me cracked up. "…Right after he says ‘poop’, this cockroach comes running out from behind the sugar, dead into the middle of his placemat. And his dad -- he’s so quick -- his dad says, ’Oh, my God, it’s Miller. That’s Miller, Jason. Quick Jason, get the bastard!’ and the kid just goes…" she smashed her fist down on the table, "… just like that. Smashed it flat. Dead center, smashed it flat!"

She was howling. The whole place was. Jason’s dad was holding his sides, and me and Jason were laughing too. I suddenly realized that I wasn’t scared anymore, that all the things I’d been afraid of just weren’t happening. And Jason’s dad was so different here than he was at home.

Charlotte started opening all the bags on the table one after the other and said, "Don’t just sit there, boys, eat!"

I couldn’t go until I had some, I just felt it wouldn’t be polite. I was nibbling on peanuts while Jason did battle with the slim Jim, when his dad finished his drink and called for another ‘and one for Charlotte.’ She said she was on duty. He said, "Hey, it’s my boy’s birthday," and smacked her behind again, and it was all so friendly and nice that I was starting not to want to go. I mean, in the back of my mind I knew Mrs. Whitman was waiting for us, that things would be all screwed up when Jason got home, but somehow anything outside the bar seemed way far away.

I asked Jason, "Did you really do that?"

He said, "Yeah, I just squashed it."

His dad said, "That boy knows how to handle Miller! I wish it’d been me!"

More laughing. Then the drinks came and Mr. Whitman and Charlotte and the rest raised up their glasses and toasted Jason. Then, his dad whispered to Charlotte, "stand here so Mage can’t see," pushed his drink over to Jason, and said, "now, don’t you tell your mother, go on. But just one sip because it’s your birthday."

I was shocked. My mom would kill me before she let me have a drink. Jason looked kind of sheepish, but you could tell he was feeling good. I saw him count to three then he grabbed the drink and took a big sip. It was hard going down. He started coughing, then drank some coke and made face. Then he went right back and took another sip, this time not so big.

"Well, my lord." The man in the booth behind us was impressed.

"He’s a Whitman all right," Charlotte said.

Encouraged, Jason went back for a third sip but his dad took the drink away. "Ah, you’ve got to wait." He stood up and addressed the bar. "Let’s hear it for my boy!"

They cheered him. The whole bar. People clapped. Charlotte asked for a cigarette and when she lit up the smoke came right in my face. She tried to bat it away but it made me cough. Then everything stopped seeming so fun. I tried to sneak a look at my watch so people wouldn’t notice. It was almost eight. My mom was going to kill me. Then Mr. Whitman told Charlotte to cook Jason up a steak.
"I’m starving," he said. "How about you, Jason?"

Jason looked confused.

"Your mom," I whispered to Jason.

"Oh… yeah, dad, we’re supposed to have dinner."

"Well, we can have a little." To Charlotte, "Go on, sweetheart, make us up a quick steak." To Jason, "We’ll leave in five minutes." To the bartender, "Drinks are on me Mage!"

Another cheer and more applause.

"I’ve got to go," I said.

Mr. Whitman said, "Stick around Ned, have some steak."

"I can’t." I slid out of the booth. "I’ll see you Jason."

He said, "OK." He looked kind of funny. Then Charlotte headed for the kitchen and I headed for the door.