Pup and ShagThe joint smelled, looked, and felt like home. The bouncer was as broad and ugly as he needed to be; the frizzy-haired Hispanic woman behind the bar had the proper I-don’t-take-no-crap attitude. Even the owner overfilling the stool at the end of the long bar was familiar, although I’d never been in this joint before. Just a hundred like it.
Eyes finally adjusted to the gloom, I swaggered inside with every soul in the place measuring me as a rival, a troublemaker, or an opportunity. Not a one was searching for a new friend.
I gazed back insolently. Forty percent Indian with the rest Mexicans, Anglos, and one or two Blacks for the rainbow effect. Wasn’t exactly an Indian bar, but close enough. I slapped a palm flat on the bar and ordered a brew. The woman poured, her one good e
