The bar was dimly lit and the drunks on the stools were too. They all sat apart and didn't speak to one another. Eddie Echers stared at the TV screens that piped in the off-hours extreme sports shows. Another TV in one corner was tuned to CNN and President Reagan was speaking to a bunch of microphones jammed into his face. He took a long pull off of his Heineken and set his gaze on the posterior of the aging barmaid. He assessed that she might have been quite a looker in her day. But, judging my the cigarette rasp in her voice and the crow's feet that perforated the skin beside her eyes, her day was long gone. That was okay to him, so was his.
The front door, behind Eddie, to the bar opened, a slice of afternoon light cut through the smokiness, and a tall figure entered the saloon. The men on their stools all turned to see who came in. Before Eddie's eyes could adjust, the man walked past him and sat at the opposite end of the "horseshoe" bar that faced Eddie. Eddie turned his gaze back to the televisions.
"Whatcha havin', honey?" the barmaid rasped.
"I don't know what to most unemployed people drink? Give me a gin and tonic."
That voice, Eddie thought. He knew it from somewhere. He looked across the bar, taking a closer look at the newcomer. The man's face looked pretty familiar but he had a beard and mustache and was still wearing sunglasses. The man removed his shades and his eyes gave him away.
"I'll be damned! If it ain't Tony Touide, whose whole sausage he can't hide!" Eddie said as he got off of his stool and walked over to him.
"Dan Long? Is that you?" Tony said as Eddie approached and took the seat next to him, "How's it hangin'? Oops! Sorry, I didn't mean . . ."
"That's all right, Tony, I've accepted the fact that all it will do from now on is hang. By the way, it's Eddie, now. The days of Dan Long are, well, long gone."
"So, whatcha been up to these day's Dan, er, Eddie?"
"Selling cars. And you?"
"Well, Explicit Video let me go, last week. It seems I suffer from the same thing you do."
"When'd you get the flat?"
"It happened while I was getting fluffed to do a scene with Zsa Zsa Star. It was working well, the fluff girl was incredible, and the minute I was about to get into the scene, WOOoop," Tony made a descending slide whistle sound. "It wouldn't get back up again. Sven Bridges was directing and he thought it was Zsa Zsa so he put me in another scene with some really hot, young newcomer who doesn't even have a stage name yet."
"Still wouldn't work?" Tony nodded. "Same here," Eddie said.
Tony drank his drink in one gulp and offered the empty glass to the barmaid, "Doc says it's done. Something about not enough blood is able to go into my unit. The irony. The very thing that made me my fortune has gone and quit on me. He said a reduction might help, some. It would allow me to have normal sex again."
"Oh, Tony, I'm so sorry for you. Really, that fuckin' sucks."
"Don't feel sorry for me, man, you're in the same boat."
"But I'm not," Eddie replied.
"Bullshit. They kicked you to the curb, too, after your dork took a powder."
"My dork works fine. It just works when it wants to."
Tony motioned to the bartender to bring them both a round by swirling his finger over their drinks, "Like here today, gone tomorrow? That sort of thing?"
"No. It's a psychological thing. I can get intimate with a lady but the minute she puts any pressure on me - - like, 'harder' or 'deeper' - - I lose it. I can't handle doing it under pressure. And then sometimes, when I'm in the middle of it, I just lose feeling and I go limp."
"So, you can be cured? Like through a shrink, or something."
Eddie looked at Tony through the yellowed mirror across the room, "I've thought about it, but I'm not really interested in the biz anymore."
As the barmaid brought the drinks, the front door opened with its bright intrusion. The drunks at the bar turned to see who was coming in. Eddie and Tony did, also. Since their eyes were still adjusting, they could only hear the clicking of high heels on the dirty tile floor. A woman, in her late twenties or early thirties came through the smoke and into the cone of illumination emanating from a recessed lamp in the ceiling above the farthest corner of the bar. The barmaid turned her back to Eddie and Tony to wait on the newcomer.
"I bet that old broad was a hell of a lay in her day," Tony said.
"As long as she kept her mouth shut, I bet she's a good lay now, at least for me. And she can't be that old. What? Around forty?"
"She reminds me of the broads from the 'Golden Years,' like Nina and Selena and all those other chicks with one name that still do the dance tour for peanuts or, after they found God, write books about how awful the biz was to them."
"No, she reminds me of someone who's spent too many days on the back of a Harley." Eddie said as he turned his head to look at the woman who had just come in. She was tall, blonde and made up like she was about to go to a five-star restaurant. She wore a low-cut gold sequin dress that revealed ample cleavage. The woman took her drink from the bar and walked over to the nearest patron, a man in his late forties. She set her drink down next to him and took a seat. Within seconds, she had her lips to his ear. The glum look he had worn since Eddie and Tony had arrived turned into a look of thrill and surprise. She picked up her drink again and moved to the next patron, a thirty-something guy wearing some kind of uniform jumpsuit. She did the same to him and his reaction was like that of the first man.