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Before the Mellowing YearSerial #12byJeffrey AndersonCopyright 2016 by Jeffrey AndersonReading and Recipes EditionALL RIGHTS RESERVEDNo part of this manuscript may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express permission of the author.This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.Before the Mellowing YearSerial #12BostonNo sooner had Zach poured himself a mug of beer from the pitcher in the middle of the four tables pushed together with people—some seated, some standing—crowded all around and nibbling on nachos and popcorn and sipping on their drinks, then a tall and lanky guy with pale skin set off by his raven black hair tapped him on the shoulder and gestured with a tilt of his head toward a wall of games on the far side of the bar. “You got to check out this machine,” he said and turned and walked away without glancing back. Zach glanced at Allison on the far side of the table sipping a White Russian and talking with a buxom blonde girl in a beige sweater. Allison smiled back at him and made a shooing gesture in the direction of the departed dark-haired guy.Zach shrugged, grabbed his mug of beer, and waded through the milling crowd in pursuit of the dark hair he could see bobbing above the heads through the thick cigarette smoke. He caught up with the guy where he was standing behind a beautiful woman with crimped blonde hair and dressed in a sheer white smock top and extremely tight jeans who was in the middle of playing a pinball game. She twitched her butt and hips in sporadic spasms, bumped the game table with her thighs, and swayed her torso from side to side in an attempt to persuade the shiny silver ball to go where she desired for it to go. She made occasional grunting noises interspersed with low moans that blended with the pinball machine’s clicking and dinging as she accumulated points and extra balls on the scoreboard at the head of the table. The dark haired guy slid a cigarette out of the pack in his shirt pocket and lit it with a lighter while he waited his turn on the machine. He watched the woman’s contorted motions nonchalantly then glanced sideways at Zach with a sly smile. Zach stood to one side, his back within inches of a standing couple in the midst of a heated argument. He hoped he didn’t get wet if the woman threw her drink at the man. But soon he forgot about their argument and became mesmerized by the energy and light and noise and motion of his surroundings, a sensory overload that gradually came to be focused on the twitching hips and shapely thighs squeezed into those tight jeans.The woman cursed, slapped her hand on the machine’s glass top, and strode off in a huff without looking at either of the men waiting behind her.The dark haired guy’s eyes followed her till she disappeared into the crowd, then he looked at Zach. “I’m single; I can look. You’re married; you ain’t supposed to look.”Zach shrugged. “Just checking out the game.”“Sure—you and me both.” He slid into the player’s spot vacated by the woman and dropped a quarter into the slot. As the first ball dropped onto the queue, he turned to Zach. “I’m Ian McCarthy.” He hung the cigarette on his lips and extended his hand.Zach shook that hand. “Zach Sandstrom.”Ian laughed. “Yeah—I know. Allison won’t shut up about you.” Zach looked perplexed. “News to me.”Ian didn’t hear. His attention was on the game as he put the first ball in play.Zach stood to one side and gazed across the crowded bar. The game tables were against the wall between the long wooden bar and the entry foyer. There was an open space that ran the length of the room, from the entry to the bathrooms and kitchen at the far end, a space currently filled with standing patrons. Beyond this open area, along the wall opposite the bar, were tables tended by waitresses where you could sit to eat or drink. Allison and about a dozen of her co-workers were gathered around four of these tables that they’d pushed together and covered with a mix of appetizers and beverages. Zach could make out where those tables were in the far corner but couldn’t see Allison from where he stood.He turned back to Ian. “Holy shit,” he said. Ian already had over fifty thousand points and two balls to go. The woman had washed out under thirty.Ian shrugged without taking his eyes off the board. “Nowhere near my record.” He shifted subtly from side to side, bumped the table very judiciously, and offered up none of the sound effects or gyrations that had defined the woman’s game.“Which is?”“Somewhere north of a hundred grand—and I’m not even on the leader board.”“Still, not bad.”Ian paused before putting his last ball in play, took the cigarette out of his mouth, and faced Zach. “Lots of practice,” he said with a wink and a charming smile.Zach wondered right then if he should be jealous of his wife working for this man, but he said, “But I liked the moves of the player before you.”Ian laughed. “All splash, no finesse.”“Speak for yourself.”“Hey, don’t get me wrong. Splash has its place—just not at the pinball table.”He got no argument from Zach.A half hour later the two of them waded back through the crowd to the Hancock table. The numbers around the table had thinned some and those that remained were all seated. Several had plates full of food in front of them—a burger and fries, a club sandwich with pasta salad on the side.Allison got out of her seat and came around to meet them. “We were just recruiting a search party.”Ian raised his arms over his head. “Topped my high score.”Allison and Mary and a couple of the other clerks cheered half-heartedly. “Our returning victors.”Ian gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Play enough games, you’re bound to get lucky once in a while.”Allison leaned into Zach’s shoulder with a light and chaste greeting. “And did you play?” she asked.“Did he play?” Ian exclaimed. “This guy is officially addicted.”Zach blushed. “It is fun,” he said. “But I’ve got a ways to go before I’m any good.”“Pinball Wizard watch out,” Ian said with a slap on Zach’s back before he sat down and grabbed a couple fries off the burger plate.“Ian!” Mary cried out.Ian shrugged. “Tribute payment.”Allison laughed. “For the pinball champion or the work super?”Ian considered the question. “For being an all-round nice guy.”Allison shook her head. “Remember that one for when you go to confession tomorrow.”Across the table Mary groaned. “Not this again.”Zach looked to her. “Not what?”Ian looked at Allison. “Is conceit one of the seven deadlys?” Mary said to Zach, “These two and their obsession with confession—Allison never goes, Ian never stops. And it’s a never-ending battle.”Allison said to Ian, “If it isn’t, it should be.”“Why?”“It leads to all the rest.”Ian thought about that for several seconds then said, “If you say so.”Allison laughed. “First time you ever listened to me.”“And the last.” He looked around the table, spotted what he thought was his mug from back before pinball, looked it over carefully, then drained the two inches of warm beer before refilling the mug from the pitcher in the middle of the table.Allison and Zach sat in two empty seats next to Mary and Ian. The guys ordered burger platters and another pitcher of beer from the middle-aged waitress that stopped by to clear some of the empty plates and glasses. Ian looked at Zach. “Do you play basketball better than pinball?”“I’d like to think so.”“Allison says you were all-state in high school.”Zach nodded. “A few years back.”“We’ve got a team in a rec league down in Dorchester. We’re pretty good, runner-up last year. But we need a big man. I was hoping you might consider playing for us.”“How much you pay?”Ian laughed. “I knew I’d like you. How about all the beer you can drink at the pub after each game? Might get you invited to a few hopping parties along the way, too.”Zach nodded. “Tell me about your team.”And the two of them proceeded to spend the next several hours talking almost non-stop—about basketball at first (local talent, the college game, national stars they’d played against, the Celtics), later about other sports, about fixing up cars, about fishing and beer drinking. This latter topic was a logical one, as they consumed several pitchers of beer between them with Zach drinking more than his share. Every so often Allison or Mary would interrupt their conversation with some comment or observation. And Ian and Zach would listen, respond politely, then resume their conversation where they’d left off.Allison watched the two from her seat behind Ian with a mix of feelings. On the one hand, she was glad Zach had finally made a friend in Boston, one who shared many of his interests and would open up opportunities for many other friendships and pursuits. On the other hand, she was secretly sorry that this new friend was one of her new friends also, had been (before tonight anyway) her closest new friend. Against her conscious wish and judgment, she felt jealous—but of Zach, not Ian.It was 11:30 when Mary stood and gathered together her purse and totebag from work. She needed to catch the subway to her home (she lived with her parents) in Brookline before the subway shut down for the night. All the rest of the gang from The Hancock had already left, leaving Zach and Allison and Ian alone at the big table. They used Mary’s departure as a reason to move to the bar, where a handful of late-nighters were sitting on stools with their hands wrapped around drinks or coffee. The three sat at the end of the bar nearest the pinball machine and video games. Zach got Danny the bartender to change some bills for quarters and slid off his stool (almost losing his balance) and walked deliberately over to the pinball machine, inserted a quarter, and began playing without a word or a glance (or a thought) to the other two.Ian watched Zach’s unsteady walk to the pinball machine, then turned to Allison. “Better keep an eye on him.”“He’s your best buddy—you watch him.”Ian shook his head. “He’s your husband.”“Zach’s never listened to me yet, least of all when he’s drunk. Don’t figure he’ll start tonight.”“And you think he’ll listen to me?”“Sure. He thinks the world of you.”“We just met.”“Follows his heart, wherever it leads.”“That’s dangerous.” “That’s Zach.”Ian turned on his stool toward his new friend. “Then let’s both keep an eye on him.”Allison smiled. “Maybe you’re a bit impulsive too.”Ian laughed. “Not a chance. Just my brother would kill me if I lost our new center before he even played a game.”Allison shook her head. “Ever the manager.”Ian nodded. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”The two took their drinks—Ian had switched to coffee awhile earlier, Allison to plain cola on ice—and walked over to keep a closer eye on their charge. Just as they arrived and took up positions on either side of Zach, he managed to hit the ball perfectly and send it over the top loop of the board, earning him ten thousand points and an extra ball. Zach sighed and said without looking up, “Going over the loop-dee-loop is the best feeling in the world,” then continued playing with a loose-limbed ease and instinct well-suited to securing a high score.Above his leaning figure, Ian and Allison exchanged grins and a knowing glance. For tonight at least, Zach was in good hands—all four of them. ................
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