The Seaside Bar and Grill

By Ron L Henslee, Sr

SYNOPSIS

The Seaside Bar and Grill

In the backroom of the Seaside Bar and Grill, a group of people is playing a game of Texas Hold-em. Samuel Cocker, known around these parts as “Skinny” is a black one-legged Viet Nam war hero and the narrator of this story. Most of the people at the poker game have one thing in common; over a span of four decades, each has saved Skinny’s life. He refers to them as members of his second family.

The first member “Peter Hamilton” is also known as “Crazy Pete.” Even though the next scene shows Skinny saving Pete’s life we learn that Pete kept Skinny alive on more than one occasion while serving in Nam back in 68. Pete built the Seaside Bar and Grill along with “Pete’s Surf Shack” and “The Oceanside Motel” near the fictional desert town of El Paco Arizona back around 1979. He had an epiphany after reading the “Last Days of the Late Great State of California,” by Curt Gentry. Gentry’s premise is one day an earthquake will occur out in the Pacific and create a massive tidal wave that will engulf the entire west coast. Pete spent ten years at the University of Berkeley trying to obtain a four-year degree in Business which was a stipulation in a Trust fund set up by his Grandfather. Pete is a major pot-head. Skinny who has his own small bar and grill in LA moves to El Paco in 89 and buys the Seaside from Pete.

As the poker game continues Skinny reveals the other members of his second family which include Jimmy Jacks aka Johnny Brassi aka Johnny two guns an ex-gangster out of New York City. The rest of the members are William “Buster” Madison an ex-big time ad agent who works for Jimmy writing ads, and Fat Betty the manager of the Seaside Bar and Grill.

Jimmy is part owner of KRAB Radio 105.9 and ended up in El Paco around 98. He saved Skinny’s life one night after a Fat Betty birthday party which was an annual event at the Seaside. He gunned down two Georgia boys who were about to send Skinny to the hereafter. Skinny calls Crazy Pete who brings along his employees Jose and Juanita to clean up the mess. After the Georgia boy incident, Jimmy tells Skinny and Buster some of his past, which included a shoot-out with some Russians, an encounter with FBI Agent ARNOLD D. SWEENEY and a false story that he is in witness protection.

William Madison known to everyone in El Paco as Buster showed up around the year 2000. Buster has the habit of comparing events that have happened in his life to something he’s seen in a movie, on TV or read in a book. A seemly harmless guy until he shows Jimmy that’s not necessarily the correct presumption when they get into a scrape on a working trip to Phoenix. He was instrumental in saving Skinny’s life after a fire breaks out at Pete’s Surf Shack.

Fat Betty is the manager of the Seaside. She has a history with Skinny, worked for him in LA and ended up in El Paco after Skinny’s wife Loretta becomes ill. She is a very pleasant person unless you get on her wrong side. She saved Skinny’s life at the big shoot-out near the end of the story.

Three days before the fire agent Sweeney shows up with the intent of blackmailing Jimmy Jackson. This forces Jimmy to tell his friends the complete story of his past, including an armored car heist. They go to Pete for help, secrets are revealed. It’s not an accident that most of the main characters in up in El Paco.

When the fire breaks out at the Surf Shack, the event was filmed by a TV station out of Phoenix which catches Jimmy Jackson on camera. Because of its unusual circumstance, the fire was shown on national TV. Jimmy’s location is revealed, and the gangsters descend upon El Paco.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ron L Henslee, Sr
• Release date: Nov 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370776511

Ron L Henslee, Sr

Old, one wife, two kids, six grand-kids, no dogs, cats, or chickens.

Book preview

By Ron L Henslee

Copyright 2014 - Ron L Henslee

Smashwords Edition

Cover - Jack Henslee

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THE SEASIDE BAR AND GRILL

By Ron L Henslee

A Seagull soaring over the Pacific makes an abrupt turn and heads inland. Flying East over the LA basin past outlying cities, it continues over the desert, a determined destination.

PART 1

PRESENT DAY

It looks like an area converted or made specifically for games of cards. It is not likely the room’s purpose would ever be disputed. It has one table and is similar to the room used in the series, ‘Poker After Dark.' All it needs is a computer-generated voice stating ‘let’s play some poker.'

The game is Texas Hold-em, the flop was just turned – three cards face up. Samuel Cocker surveys the table; he smiles to himself, glad to be with these folks. Peter Hamilton, also known as, ‘Crazy Pete,' sits to the right of Sam. Next to him is Jimmy Jackson aka Johnny Brassi. Next to Jimmy is, William Buster Madison. Next to Buster sits Fat Betty and alongside her are Juanita and Jose. These characters sitting around the poker table are Sam’s family, his extended family. As he looks at each of his friends, he reflects on the adventures they have shared over the years. Sam knows he would make the ultimate sacrifice for any of them; he would die for them. Except Peter’s two protégés Juanita and Jose, the rest have one thing in common, at one time or other they saved his life, some more than once, Family.

Peter Hamilton aka Crazy Pete just became eligible for Social Security – not that he needs it nor will he apply for it. He’s 62 years old and looks every year of it, plus some. His face, especially the knowing-all-eyes, is a road map of life, his life. He has long gray hair which this particular night is combed back into a ponytail. He’s wearing an Indian made leather jacket with various tribe symbols and colors sewn into it. He selects a $25.00 chip and tosses it in the pot. He calls.

. . .

PETER HAMILTON

VIET NAM 1968

SOMEWHERE NEAR THE DMZ

The recon patrol consists of eight men. All are seasoned veterans except one replacement, Harris. He’s as green as the dense bush that hugs the terrain. They’re navigating intense jungle, silent, weapons at ready, moving East to West. The mission is to find the enemy, get a head count, and get the hell out. Sergeant Ham motions stop and down. The silence has progressed from eerie to very uncomfortable; it seems to last an eternity but just seconds. There’s movement ahead; it’s the enemy, shuffling silently - North to South. Two NVA’s (North Vietnamese Regular Army) bringing up the rear stop within twenty yards of the patrol. The buddy system, one has to take a dump the other stands guard. While his buddy squats the fellow guard is relaxed, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it. A noise prompts him to point his weapon at the direction of the hidden patrol.

Harris opens fire. The patrol has no choice and joins in. The two enemy stragglers don’t stand a chance.

One of the men, Jackson, slaps Harris upside his helmet, You stupid fucker Harris.

Sergeant Ham said, Can it Jackson, Cocker, get the men to the rendezvous and call in the chopper. These guys are regular NVA, so there’s at least a company, maybe more. Leave the M60.

Let me hang with you, Ham, Cocker said.

Get your ass outta here now corporal, that’s an order!

Hamilton – Sergeant Ham - is a young man, early twenties yet a seasoned veteran that carries himself with determination and relentlessness. His eyes portray a wisdom countered by a wild recklessness that says ‘don’t fuck with me and do your job.' He’s a soldier’s soldier and one very bad ass warrior. His second tour is coming to an end. He’s been kicking around signing up for a third, problem is he’s beginning to like this shit, and that isn’t necessarily good.

Samuel Cocker reluctantly heads back with the patrol. He knows Hamilton just put himself on the line AGAIN. Cocker, is close to the same age as Hamilton. If the Sergeant hadn’t taken him under his wing from the get-go - which amounted to almost a year - he would be dead, more than once; if you could die more than once. Teaching him to stay alive not to mention actually saving his life more than once.

Hamilton digs in. The enemy is back, swarming. Hamilton lays down a line of fire with a sweeping arc of the M60 machine gun.

The patrol is on the move, Cocker calling in the chopper as they run.

Hamilton falls back as the enemy gives chase. Hamilton’s plan is move, cover, fire, move, cover, fire. It’s a firefight on the run. Mortars are exploding all around, creating a smokescreen with a constant rain of debris.

The patrol reaches the rendezvous. They gather near the edge of the clearing. Cocker takes a head count. He’s missing one. Where’s Gonzales? None of the six men huddled around seem to know. Damn! Okay, when the chopper arrives if it gets too hot BUG out! Cocker runs back into the bush.

Hamilton running, firing, almost trips over Gonzales. He digs in beside him. Gonzales grabs Hamilton’s arm. How’s it look Sarge… is it bad, don’t fuckin lie to me.

Hamilton knows Gonzales is a goner. After two years of seeing this shit, it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know when a man was about to meet his maker. In Gonzales case, the obvious was… obvious. His body was blown in half. He didn’t know it; he was in shock and should already be dead. Hamilton is holding half a man’s body in his arms and thinking this has to be number one on the freaky shit he’s seen the last couple years. What the fuck? Gonzales should be dead.

You’re dying David that’s a fucked up fact, but true, Hamilton said.

Private David Gonzales pulls Sergeant Hamilton closer; his dying words are a whisper. This isn’t the first time he’s heard a dying man’s pleas. This isn’t the first promise he’s made. Are they empty promises? You say shit to men in war, men that are dying. Then you move on. Fuck the Nam. Hamilton grabs Gonzales tags lays down another line of fire and heads out. He takes return fire. He’s hit in both legs; he’s done. The pain hasn’t arrived yet, but he knows it’s knocking at the door, and that door will be opened when the adrenaline rush subsides. He digs in. To no one in particular, since there's no one around except the enemy, Hamilton says, Well fuck. He pulls a long bandage wrap out of his pocket, rips it in half and ties off both legs. He hears a noise behind him and turns to fire.

Cocker said, Hey Sarge, as he plops down beside him. They hear the chopper; it’s arrived.

What the fuck! You should be on that chopper waving my sorry ass goodbye.

Cocker shakes his head side to side. No, can do. Where’s Gonzales?

Dead.

Sure?

Yes.

Fuck.

Yeah, fuck…now you need to get the hell outta here, and that’s an order!

Like I said, Sarge, no can do. You’ve saved my ass so many times I lost count. Now we can both stay here and die or get to that chopper.

You know the enemy is trying to flank us as we speak, Ham said.

Then let’s get the hell outta here.

I can’t walk Sam, even with your help. I’m hit in both legs.

Cocker who is tall and lanky, much stronger than he looks, picks up Hamilton and slings him over his back. He takes off running. The first 70 yards is heavy bush with a well-worn winding path running through it. It works well for cover. They reach the last 30 yards which are an open field. The chopper is hovering a few feet off the ground. The squad is safe aboard (except Gonzales) yelling, rooting for Cocker and Hamilton to reach them. With 20 yards to go a motor hits, close enough to do major damage as it brings both men down. Three men jump out of the chopper and get them aboard. Two men continue to lay down cover fire as they take off. The last thing Cocker remembered was crawling toward his right leg that was lying about ten feet away from him, on fire.

. . .

PHU BAI, VIET NAM

MUST UNIT, (Medical Unit, Self-contained, Transportable)

Hamilton rolls up to Cocker; he’s in a wheelchair. He has his duffel bag in his lap, dress uniform on. Sergeant Peter Hamilton is going home. The tent is a large self-contained unit that holds about fifty beds. Cocker's lying on one of these beds minus his right leg. A slow day, most beds in this particular tent are empty. An Army nurse, Lieutenant Flora Gail, is working on changing Cocker's I.V.

Hey Sam, Hamilton said then looks at the nurse, Hello Lieutenant Gail.

Lieutenant Gail acknowledges Hamilton, Sergeant.

I’m curious. Is Flora short for Florence? Hamilton asked.

Uh, no, close but no… Getting a little personal aren’t we Sergeant? replied Gail.

It got personal when you helped my friend… He’d bled out; you saved him.

Unfortunately, I’ve had a lot of practice at it. You men take care.

Cocker and Hamilton both watch Lieutenant Gail as she walks away. She’s a looker.

Hello Peter, Cocker said.

Sorry about the leg Sam I really am but I not gonna lie, I'm really glad you came back for me. I owe you, man.

You owe me? You owe me? You never cease to amaze me, Peter. I’ve lost count of the times you’ve kept me alive. My black ass should have never survived this crazy ass shit hole…Fuck the Nam.

Still… it’s fucked up about your leg, Hamilton said.

Hey, my way of thinking I've come out ahead on this deal.

Hamilton gives Cocker a quizzical, ‘what the hell are you talking about look.'

Cocker smiles, I’ve thought – and I’ve gotta say on more than one occasion - while over fighting this God forsaken war how I would give an arm and a leg to get out of here alive. Well, I am…getting out of here… and I still got the arm.

Sam’s statement gives cause for Hamilton to break into a smile. Sam always did look on the bright side of things.

Cocker changes the subject. Florence? Aren’t you the romantic?

It’s kind of poetic huh? Florence Gail, Florence Nightingale, Hamilton said.

Cocker changes the subject again. How you comin along… as far as the wounds I mean?

I’m good. They’re sending me home… say I’ve been shot too much. Actually, I could get by on crutches right now, but the chair helps me lug around my duffel bag, Hamilton replied, paused a moment then continued. Could stay I suppose if I fought it. I was about to extend… The thing is I’m sick of seeing good men die. Hamilton left out the part about Gonzales, a man literally blown in half, dying in his arms. It really freaked him out. It was unnatural. The stuff that dreams are made of, the fucked-up kind that is. It was time to go.

Cocker knew something about Gonzales death got in Peter’s head. He knew it took a lot to rattle Peter Hamilton and the Gonzales incident certainly did. Time to change the subject again, "How many purple hearts is