Happy Hour

Three beers in a country bar are about to destroy my life as I knew it.

On a Sunday afternoon in the East Village, I’m strolling down Avenue B heading towards a Southern-themed bar called “The Barnyard”. I promised to meet my best friend Richard there for lunch. Yesterday he texted telling me because he had important news to share and wanted to tell me in person. Usually we hung out at a place near both of our apartments. So it was unusual that he chose to meet here.
I walk in the front door and the country music escaping from the bar blasts me back onto the street. It’s really dark inside, partially because of the lack of windows and partially because of the wood paneling. There is some light in the bar emitting from the neon beer logos and the juke box. I look towards the left side of the room and notice a mechanical bull and some televisions in the rear of the bar. Scanning the rest of the room, there are a couple dozen people dressed in denim, flannel and t-shirts with what I assume are the names of country bands. “This is definitely not my usual crowd” I think as I make my way to where I think the bar is.
Richard sitting at the bar chatting up some female bartender. He’s not easy to miss as he is the best looking guy in the room. At six foot two inches tall, with brown slightly curly hair and bright blue eyes he is a lady magnet . He’s what a Ken doll would look like it he were living and breathing in Manhattan. He is wearing an outfit pretty much like mine; jeans, checkered shirt and boots. Richard’s leaning into the bar with a big grin on his face. The female bartender leaning into him has her arms tucked under her cleavage pushing them to the top of the bar. She looks completely enthralled by whatever it is Richard is saying to her. As I near the bar she jerks her head back as he says something funny and shakes her blond mane and the well-endowed upper half of her body.
Feeling an urge interrupt this blossoming love scene, I sashayed over to the counter. I make my way to the stool next to Richard and tap him on the shoulder. He turns towards me and says ”Hey doll” and kisses me on the cheek. “This is Ronnie.” He gestures towards the bartender. “Ronnie this is Belinda.”
Sizing me up and down, Ronnie replies with “Howdya do?” She gives me the evil eye. Ronnie seems annoyed that I interrupted her moment with Richard. I smile the toothy smile that I reserve for Richard’s lady “friends” and say hello. Richard excuses us from the bar and grabs my arm. He leads me to a section of the bar filled with booths. Her lustful eyes follow Richard’s jean covered butt the whole way.
We grab a seat near some televisions and another buxom waitress shimmies over and takes our drink order. Richard orders a Rolling Rambler beer and I do the same. The waitress leaves after giving Richard a very obvious “I’m interested” smile. Richard ignores her because he is looking at me. I take my jacket off, make my self comfortable and wait for Richard to start talking.
A few seconds pass and I finally say “So Richard what’s so important that I have to come over to the honky tonk side of the city?”. He laughs out loud. “I have good news. We are here to celebrate my new job”.
Just as I am about to ask him what the heck he was talking about the waitress shows up with our beers. “What new job? What happened to the Harris gig?” I say as I reach for my beer. The music gets turned down and the televisions are turned on. Three announcers appear on the screen dressed in black golf shirts and pants. The crowd has now moved nearer the televisions for whatever event is about to take place.
Richard takes a swig off of his bottle and swallows. He orders some bar food and then turns his attention back to our conversation. With a gleam in his eye he hands me what looks like a clipped announcement from a business journal. It reads, “Richard C. Ellis named CFO of Taylor Racing”. I scan the rest of the article and then look at Richard quizzically. He is looking at me waiting for a reaction. I am so shocked that I can’t say anything.
So many thoughts start racing around in my hand. I can’t decide where to start. Why was Richard leaving? Why take a job in a sport he knows nothing about? Most importantly, who the heck is this Taylor guy?
Just as I am about to open my mouth the sound of an announcer comes from the widescreen TV hanging on the wall opposite our booth. “Welcome NASCAR fans. Today we are in Charlotte, North Carolina for the Sudsy 500 Cup Series”. He goes to introduce himself and the rest of the announcing team but by then I have tuned out.
“Belle, aren’t you excited for me?” Richard says as he shakes my arm.
Not quite sure what to say, I manage, “How did this all come about?”
Richard goes on to tell me how he got a call from an associate of his father’s. He contacted Richard to see if he knew anyone who would be interested in a position with a NASCAR team. Taylor Racing was looking for someone to head up their financial division. Richard’s name was interested so he interviewed with the team owners. According to Richard they liked him so much that they offered the job on the spot. He ended with “And I’m moving to Charlotte in a week”.
Richard is moving? Leaving New York? I motion to the waitress to bring us another round. I am going to need a few drinks in me to soften the shock. I empty my first beer bottle and say “Richard, you don’t know a darn thing about cars or racing them”.