-Narrative: They say, hindsight is always 20-20. Funny enough, foresight can be, too.-

-Setting: We are in a sports bar, a few days before the meet. Jersey, Matt, Mack, Richard, and Phil are all at the bar, having a drink. Jersey is shaking a Polaroid, the picture finally clearing enough that you can see both him and Matt in it, faces unexpected of the oncoming photograph. Jersey looks at it for a second, snorts, and puts it in an inner pocket. Jersey then swills down the pin of Guiness that he had, listening to the normal rambunciousness of drunk patrons getting into whatever various ballgame happened to be on. A sound behind him made Jersey turn around.-

VOICE: Get outta my barstool!

-Jersey turns around to see a mammoth of a man behind him, nose already red from consumed alcohol. Fully 300 lbs., the 6 foot 6 man's gut made all the impression that Jersey needed.

JERSEY: Sorry, mate, yer mistaken. This one's taken.

-Jersey turns around to order another Guiness when...

...all of a sudden, two large hands grab Jersey's shoulders, and haul him backwards, nearly throwing him into a wall. The mammoth man still held Jersey, whiskey-flavored breath flavoring his elloquint words.-

MAMMOTH MAN: I-FUCKIN'-TOLD-YOU-TO-GET-OUT-

(HURK!)

-The sound of the mans throat being hit by the web of Jersey's hand ended the drunk man's tyrade. Both of the drunk man's hands went to his throat, a look of surprize and anguish coming to his face. On his knees, the drunk man does his best to limp away.-

JERSEY: Does anyone else hava problem with where I sit?

-A few other men, by their looks, the drunk man's friends, back down, but the rest of the sports bar goes back to their drinks, and their game. Jersey rightens the falled stool, and sits down to order his drink.-

FEMALE VOICE: Add a scotch on he rocks with that, too.

-Jersey looks over to see a slim woman sitting nest to him. Clad in what seems to be completely dark clothing, the woman looks at Jersey with her mismatched colored eyes. Jersey rolls his.-

JERSEY: Rose, what the hell ya doin' here?

ROSE: That's none of your damn business, you walking catastrophe. Do you go out looking for trouble?

JERSEY: No, trouble doesn't hava ta go lookin' fer me. Tends ta know right where I'm at. Are the cops afta' ya again?

-Rose looks away from Jersey, giving him his answer.-

JERSEY: Need a safehouse? No charge but good company.

ROSE: Yeah, last time that happened it led to other good company, didn't it?

-Rose's hand slides up one of Jersey's legs.-

JERSEY: Yeah, Rose, ya stole me heart, along with half me possessions, afta' takin' how many jewels from that diamond store? I know good hooka's that charge less than what ya took from me. I dinna even turn ya in, didn't I?

ROSE: No, you just chased me 5 city blocks stark naked.

JERSEY: Yea? But I wasn't the naked body everyone was lookin' at.

-Though the bar was dark, Jersey could still see the blush on Rose's face from the memory of an incident from over 5 months ago.-

ROSE: Fine, I'll go. I pomise I won't take anything this time.

-A snort from Jersey earned him a smack on the back side of his head from Rose, plus a menincing gaze. Jersey leaves the bar to grab his standard Chevy something-or-other, pays his bar bill. Jersey and Rose leave the bar.-

TO BE CONTINUED

12/29/2002

Posted on 12/30/2002
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