“Okay, Tom, you can do this…just go in there…and do you, as
the kids say…you can do this…” As Tom Simpson repeated this mantra to himself
in the driver’s seat of his car, he breathed deeply and secretly wondered if
any of his own former students had to do this right before they walked into his
class. Such thoughts were packaged together with the notion that Tom didn’t
deserve to do what he was about to do, that he was washed up, tainted, and
unforgivable. A few more deep breaths pushed the unwelcome thoughts from his
mind. Slowly, yet surely, he exited the vehicle and crossed the moonlit streets
of Perkins City.
Tom never expected The Tool Shed to be as laidback as it
was. The folk rock music being performed by a drag queen onstage soothed his
tense body. The male eye candy made him feel young and colorful again. Yet
through it all, he still felt alone even in a gay bar full of handsome men.
Nevertheless he straightened his tie and approached the counter hoping for an
interaction of some kind.
The burly black barkeep with golden loop earrings asked,
“What can I get for you tonight, sunshine?”
“Just a beer would be fine,” said Tom nervously as he looked
down where his wedding ring used to be. Ask and ye shall receive: a tall frosty
mug of golden beer that probably tasted like horse piss anyways. Tom sipped it
and suppressed a bitter face, yet kept on drinking out of necessity. Maybe the
phrase “liquid courage” had some meaning to it after all.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” asked the bartender with a
warm smile.
Fingering the purple loop where his wedding ring once laid,
Tom said, “I’m sure you’ve seen me on the news here and there. I don’t want to
say much beyond that, but if you’ve already figured it out, then I’ll get out
of your hair whenever you want me to.”
“Nah, nah, I ain’t hating. It’s all good, buddy. We’re all
friends here,” said the bartender with a wink, which made Tom chuckle lightly.
“Seriously, though, you look like hell. You keep looking down at your finger or
some shit. You a married man?”
“Used to be. I had to pawn my ring just to make ends meet.”
“Man, that’s tough. Sorry to hear that. Well, if you’re
looking for a new start, you’ve come to the right place. We’ve got good music,
good beer, good food, and some motherfuckers that look goooooooo-ood tonight!”
The last line was punctuated with a hearty laugh.
“You know…I actually came here for another reason aside from
your goooooo-ood beer. You wouldn’t happen to have any job applications handy,
would you?”
The barkeep shifted his eyes between the drag queen singing
onstage and Tom and smiled as he asked, “No offense, but aren’t you a little
old to be taking that dude’s job? I’m not trying to be mean or nothing, but you
don’t look like the singer type. Hell, you sound like you lost your voice long
before you came in here tonight.”
Taking deeper sip of his beer, Tom said, “I’m not applying
to be a singer or a dancer. I was looking for something a little more…higher
up. Something more suited to my college degree. Maybe some bookkeeping. Maybe
something in the range of…assistant manager?”
Nodding, the barkeep said, “Ah, that makes a little more
sense now. You look like a smart dude. I’m sure we can find something for you
to do behind the scenes. Hold that thought while I go get you the paperwork.”
He ruffled Tom’s hair and walked off to the back office.
Tom took an even deeper gulp of his beer and turned his
attention toward the drag queen, who had the voice of a heavenly angel and the
looks of a sassy diva. The way his red dress flowed down, the way his long
raven hair flopped about, and the way he showed off his hairless body made Tom
warm and fuzzy deep in his core. Tom couldn’t remember the last time he had a
big goofy grin on his own face, but it was there complete with a line of spittle
obliviously hanging from his bottom lip. The drag queen winked and giggled at
him and Tom couldn’t help but tuck his head in embarrassment and giggle
himself.
“He’s a beauty, ain’t he?” said the returning bartender, who
snapped Tom out of his trance long enough for him to notice a fresh job
application along with a red inked pen. “You’ll notice on this thing that
you’ll be asked for three references. But don’t worry, you don’t have to put
down Linda Williams’s name if you don’t want to.” The bartender winked and gave
Tom a confused expression.
“Wait a minute, how did you…?”
“Like you said, you’re in the media one way or another. But
that’s alright, buddy. We’re all friends here and we don’t judge. I just have
one little favor to ask of you before you fill out the application. No more of
this democracy is dead shit, alright? It ain’t going to fly here.”
Tom made a flat tire noise and said, “Trust me, I know how
ineffective that line was. Ask any of my former students and they’ll be more
than happy to tell you about it.” With that said, he got right to work in
filling out the application. Now that the bartender mentioned it, there weren’t
many people Tom could use as a reference since he spent the last few decades
pissing everybody off at Perkins High. By the time he actually reached that
point in the paperwork, he froze like Walt Disney. “I think I need a little
help here.”
“I’ll have a glass of beer, Charlie,” said a familiar dreamy
voice sitting next to Tom. Careful not to make complete eye contact, Tom saw
that the drag queen had finished his performance and took a seat next to him
for some odd reason. So much for “liquid courage”. Tom buried his attention
back into the application when the drag queen patted his shoulders and said,
“You look a little lost there, buddy.”
“Honey, I’ve been lost for a long damn time now,” said Tom.
“I’m still wrapping my head around this damn piece of paper. I’ve filled out
many of them in my lifetime, but this…this reminds me of one of the tests I
used to give my kids. Sorry, I’m rambling. Must be the alcohol talking.”
Peeking over Tom’s shoulder, the drag queen said, “You can
use me as a reference if you want.”
Snickering nervously, Tom shook his head and said, “That’s
really sweet of you, but I’m serious about getting this job.”
“And I’m serious about you having it,” said the smiling drag
queen. “We could always use some fresh blood around here. Look around, sweet
lips. There’s not a whole lot of business going on around here. It’s like
people are afraid to come in here or something. Maybe if you can drum up some
business, we can turn this shit around, hmm?”
“I guess so. I’m Tom, by the way. Tom Simpson.”
“Yeah, I noticed on your application there. I’m Dave, but
everybody here calls me Davita. Nice to meet you, Tom.”
“So basically everybody here names you after a kidney
dialysis clinic? What, do you have little guys in musketeer suits follow you
around?”
Tom’s joke earned a hearty laugh from Davita, who squeezed
his shoulder and said, “You’re something else, Tom, you really are. You don’t
sound like a pissed off history teacher at all. Trust me, I wouldn’t want to
work there either, especially with all them football studs walking around
beating up ‘queer-mo-sexuals’ as they like to call them.”
“Oh, trust me, Davita, all that’s going to change now that
Principal Williams knows what the hell’s going on…and now that I’m gone
forever.”
Rubbing Tom’s shoulders, Davita said, “Hey, listen to me.
You’re going to make a great worker here. Don’t let any of that past BS get in
your way, alright? I know you feel like shit and all, but if you want to work
in a gay bar, gay meaning happy, then you’ve got to learn how to smile every
now and then. I mean, you looked like you were having the time of your life
when I was up there singing. Bring that attitude to your job and you’ll be
fine.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Tom as he filled Davita’s
name in one of the reference boxes. “One down, two more references to go. Now
who do I use?”
“You can use anybody you want, honey. If you don’t want
Charlie to contact them, just check that little box and you’ll be fine.
Besides, nobody really cares about those things anyways. If they want a new
employee, they’ll hire. It really all comes down to how you present yourself in
the interview. You give good interviews, right?” The ex-teacher shook his head
and Davita said, “Tom?”
“I guess I do give good interviews.”
“That’s the spirit!” squeaked Davita as he kissed Tom on the
top of his head. “You’re finally getting to do something you actually love
doing. That should give you the happy-ass attitude you want rolling into the
interview.”
“I bet you’ve been reading The Secret, haven’t you?” joked
Tom. “How many times? Five? Six? A dozen?”
“More like two dozen,” Davita joked back.
Tom shook his head and finished filling out the job
application, most likely with bullshit answers. He could have written down Hulk
Hogan or Mickey Mouse for one of his references and Davita and Charlie would
have warmed his heart with the same smile anyways. Even before he was granted
an interview, Tom felt like he belonged, which was a feeling he wish he could
have given his students. But enough about the past and forget about the future.
It was time to live in the moment for Tom Simpson.
