“The usual, but please make it a double,” Mike orders his drink cheerfully.
Julie smiles wide and walks away, wiggling her round butt; Mike’s eyes almost come out of their sockets. Naively not realizing her move is nothing except a tease, Mike wrongly takes it as an invitation, and that gives him hope that she might be receptive to his offer this time. But as soon as Mike sees Julie’s boyfriend, Tom, a rugged-looking man in a red-and-white checked shirt with cut-off sleeves, sitting at the bar, watching every move she makes, he decides not to hit on her again, at least not today. If Tom’s overall huge size doesn’t convince Mike to leave Julie alone, perhaps his exposed muscular arms tattooed from shoulders to fingers does the trick.
Old heavy-set bearded Richard, the bar owner, says hello to him as he passes by.
“Hey, Richard. You look like a man who knows a lot about jewelry. Take a look at this ring and tell me how much it is worth,” Mike says and hands Richard the ring.
Richard looks at the ring carefully from different angles, and gives it back to him.
“Ten bucks at most,” Richard announces.
“What?” Mike sounds shocked.
“You can buy this shit wholesale across the border for five bucks a shot. Like all the other shit, this crap is made in China. How much did you pay for it?”
“Hundred thirteen dollars,” Mike replies unhappily.
“Man-o-man, somebody conned you.”
Mike looks at the ring carefully this time. He can’t find any inscription inside the ring that normally indicates the number of karats. Warily holding it closer to the light, he doesn’t see any glare reflecting from the light, which would normally be expected from a diamond. The expression of hope on his face quickly changes to hopelessness and anger, as he grits his teeth.
“Holy shit! Welcome to America, Mike, to this big pile of steaming stinking shit. You’ve been fucked royally, man,” Richard says, laughing as he walks away. Every note of Richard’s laughter feels like sprinkles of salt on Mike’s wound.
As if Mike weren’t already depressed enough, the news of the ring being literally worthless instantly pushes him even deeper into the pit of depression.
Julie brings him his drink, and before she leaves, she says sarcastically, “What a smart man you are!”
The expression on Mike’s face shows that Julie’s cutting remark seems to have disturbed him rather more than the awful feeling of having been conned.
With a beer mug in his hand, Richard returns, pulls up a chair and sits across from him.
“Forgive me if I’m laughing, Mike,” Richard says with a sympathetic smile. “I really shouldn’t be laughing, because I’m a big sucker myself. I’ve been conned big time.”
“That’s all right. I deserve it.”
“You know, by giving the bastard all that money for this worthless piece of shit says a lot about you, man. You’ve got a kind heart. Of course that son-of-a-bitch took advantage of you,” Richard says, showing genuine understanding.
“Thanks, Richard.”
“I tell you what,” Richard says.
Mike laughs—a sardonic laugh. It surprises Richard.
“What’s funny?”
“That’s exactly what the man who conned me said before he took my money and duped me. He said, ‘I tell you what.’ ”
“I was going to buy this fake ring, this piece of crap from you for twenty bucks, you asshole,” Richard snaps.
“Didn’t you say it’s counterfeit?”
“I got this night cleaning man, a nice Mexican guy. He’s a very good worker. He likes this kind of shit. I’d give it to him as a gift.”
Mike hands Richard the ring. Richard slaps a twenty-dollar bill on the table hard and walks away grinning. A few minutes later, Mike notices Richard is talking to two men sitting on stools at the bar’s counter. His suspicion that Richard might be talking about him is confirmed when the men, both in their mid-fifties, turn and look at him sympathetically, smiling and waving their hands. With a stiffened body, Mike reluctantly returns their unsolicited smiles with an artificial one, bordering on a grimace
“Come over here, man. Let me buy you a drink,” one of the men invites Mike.
“No, thanks. I should be going soon,” Mike refuses.
Both men pause, look at each other, pick up their drinks and walk to Mike’s table. They ignore the uninviting look on Mike’s face, sit down, and one of them places a new drink in front of Mike. They introduce themselves as Kevin Sullivan and Joel Jansen. With the help of a few drinks, they both seem to be in a very friendly frame of mind.
“Richard told us how you were conned. Don’t feel bad, I’ve been conned many times for much more than you were,” Kevin says. “You think I’ve learned my lesson? No sir. If the same son-of-a-bitch who conned you would’ve approached me, you can bet your last dollar that he could’ve conned me, too.”
“See, it’s impossible to enjoy so much personal freedom in a society such as ours and expect everyone to remain good, moral, ethical, and kind,” Joel asserts to ease Mike’s pain.
Mike nods in affirmation.
“Bullshit!” It doesn’t have anything to do with personal freedom,” Kevin disputes Joel. “Look at those fucking Nigerians. They’re the best con artists the world has ever known, and they don’t give shit about personal freedom in their society. It’s just human nature, to find another man and sock it to him if you can.”
Mike doesn’t know whether to agree with Kevin or Joel.
Both are Vietnam vets. Joel has been recently laid off from a middle-management position in a toy manufacturing company, and Kevin is a financial manager, managing retirement funds for large corporations.
They talk about many subjects, with some that can only be discussed in a bar with total strangers after the loosening effect of alcohol. They talk about their families, failed dreams; they tell funny stories, and to balance those off, they discuss some of their depressing ones. As Mike talks about his current job in comparison to his previous position as the deputy secretary of minister of industries in Iran, it makes Kevin and Joel even more sympathetic towards him.
Joel has been looking for a job, and hasn’t been successful, and is about to run out of his unemployment benefits. Mike informs him about an opening at The Home Depot. Joel is appreciative and promises to drop by to pick up an application the next day. But Kevin has some entrepreneurial venture in mind for him.
“You know,” Kevin, a little tipsy now begins. “I’ve been thinking lately. There are three things in this world that people can’t live without them: food, sex, and religion. Going into the restaurant business requires large sums of hard-to-raise capital and you must deal with perishable products, which it very risky. Religion doesn’t need capital, but you got to be a fast-talking shyster, a typical used-car salesman, which you are not, Joel.”
“Yes, I don’t have that fine qualification that many of these son-of-bitches evangelists and our fucking politicians have who are making fortunes, Kevin. What do have in mind now?”
“Well, it remains sex.”
Richard joins their friendly gathering. If someone could look at them from the other side of the room, he would have sworn that these four guys had been inseparable bosom buddies since they have been toddlers.
“You mean become a pimp or open a whorehouse?” Joel asks.
“No! The law in this country is adamantly against selling or purchasing sex openly, although it is done in different forms.