Evil in Paradise. R. B. Conroy

and face with his cue. Stunned, the other man raised his arms up for protection as red blood streamed down his denim jacket.

      Reg hurried over and grabbed Dirk by the arm, “Come on, buddy, he doesn’t want any part of you. Let’s get out of here.”

      Red-faced, Dirk was staring at the man, hoping for the least provocation so he could beat the man senseless. Meantime, Reg kept yanking on his arm. Finally, he started to back away. Reg leaned closer and barked in his ear, “Dammit, Dirk, let him alone. I like coming to this place. So give it up!”

      Dirk jerked his arm free from Reg, tossed his cue on the table and backed away. At Reg’s urgings, the two men turned and headed for the exit. The battered pool player leaned precariously against the end of the pool table as others examined his wounds.

      Outside, Reg continued to admonish his explosive friend. “You can’t do crap like that, Dirk. That guy was just looking at you. You can’t blow up every time somebody looks cross-ways at you.”

      Still seething, Dirk remained quiet.

      “You keep that shit up and we won’t be able to get into any bars around here. They’ve already thrown us out of Stacey’s.”

      “Okay, okay”, he mumbled. “But, that guy was asking for it, so I gave it to him.”

      “Do me a favor, Dirk. Next time you think somebody is asking for it, leave him alone, okay?”

      Dirk slowly mounted his Harley low-rider and grinned at his good buddy, “How about I kick your ass next time somebody messes with me? How about that?”

      “Just try it, hard guy, just try it.” Reg slid his leg over the worn leather seat on his ancient Harley and kicked it to a start. He gunned the engine and then popped it into gear.

      Dirk howled with laughter and high-fived his good friend. “Let’s go find us some nookie over at The Villages. Okay, buddy?”

      “Lead the way!”

      Dirk’s front wheel lifted off the ground; his mufflers popped sending a loud good-bye to the wary customers inside the shaken bar. Dirk fell in behind him as the hardened bikers wound their way through the crowded parking lot and gunned it down Pine Avenue toward The Villages.

       6

      Reg twisted the throttle and moved up next to Dirk as they cruised slowly around the square at Lake Sumter Landing. The dance floor around the big gazebo was packed with gyrating Villagers.

      “City Fire or Cody’s?” Reg shouted over the groaning Harleys.

      “Your call.”

      “Follow me.” Reg twisted the throttle once again and pulled ahead of his companion. He whizzed past a couple of double-parked golf carts, smiling and nodding at the folks on the carts. He and Dirk were younger and stronger than most of the seniors at Lake Sumter but this was not their turf and Reg knew it. He and Dirk had to be on their best behavior or they would soon be surrounded by a mess of officers from the Community Watch security force. The Villages is a multi-million dollar operation and the management would not tolerate for a minute any trouble from a couple of biker guys from Lady Lake. Reg was hopeful that his volatile pal, Dirk, understood the situation also, but he had his doubts. He would have to keep an eye on his temperamental buddy.

      The men cruised off Lakeshore Drive and found a parking spot across from the long outside bar at Cody’s Original Roadhouse. Reg pulled to a stop and killed the engine. Dirk pulled in and racked his pipes turning heads at the nearby bar-just what Reg was trying to avoid.

      “Damn it, Dirk, cut it out!”

      Dirk gave him a toothy grin.

      Reg leaned closer to his rebellious cohort. “Listen, Dirk, there’s tons of security around here. If you punch somebody in the gut, your sorry butt will end up in jail in a flash, I guarantee it. Let’s calm down so we can have a good time. No more bullshit, okay?”

      “Lighten up, Reg, I just racked my pipes a little, that’s all.”

      “Yea, and now everyone in the joint knows that two biker guys just pulled in the parking lot.”

      Dirk jabbed his long middle finger in the face of his pal.

      Reg frowned and shook his head.

      “Hey, check out the broad in the green skirt, she’s hot.” Dirk nodded toward an attractive lady engaged in a heavy conversation with a man at the far end of the bar. Reg glanced over at the lady, and to his surprise, she picked up on Dirk’s gaze and tossed him a flirtatious smile. She held her smile for a second and then returned to the conversation with her companion.

      “Too bad she’s with her husband, Romeo. We need to find us a couple of single babes.”

      The two men climbed off their bikes and headed for the bar. A short time later, they squeezed into a slight opening at the crowded bar, garnering some annoyed looks from nearby patrons. The two bikers looked out of place with their black leather vests, gold chains, and heavily tattooed arms.

      “A couple of Bud Lights,” Reg said to the approaching bartender.

      Dirk took a look around. “Hell, we oughta spend more time here. Some of these old broads are really hot.”

      “I know, and they got money too. Somethin’ you and I don’t have.”

      “I still like the one in the green skirt the best!” Dirk exclaimed. “She’s got the whole package.”

      The bartender hustled back and banged two sweaty beers on the bar in front of them. Dirk paused his ogling long enough to take a major swig of his cold beer. He swiped his mouth clean with his shirt sleeve and barked at his buddy, “I wonder if that guy’s really her husband?”

      Reg gave the foxy babe and her friend a good look. “He’s laughing too much and being too nice to her. I was wrong, it’s probably not her husband.”

      Dirk’s eyes widened, “Hot damn! He’s going to the john or something. Here’s my chance!”

      “What are you doing?” Reg watched in horror as Dirk slid off his bar stool and made his way past the line of boisterous drinkers toward the end of the bar. Reg drank his nearly full mug of beer and quickly ordered another hoping to numb his growing anxiety. He watched in disbelief as the smiling Dirk approached the unsuspecting lady, now sitting alone, and extended his hand to her. She smiled coyly, shook his hand and pointed at Dirk’s clothes-they both laughed heartily. Rapid conversation ensued with the smiling lady giving Dirk a pat on the arm. Dirk leaned on the bar and gently pushed a few strands of dangling blond hair off her forehead-an amazingly intimate gesture for two people who had just met. A short time later, Reg looked across the room and saw her companion returning from the men’s room. He shot a glance at Dirk to see if he had seen him also, but he was still in major flirt mode. He apparently was unaware of the man returning. Not wanting to see another ugly brawl in a bar on the same evening, Reg shouted a sharp “Dirk!” at his buddy and jabbed his finger toward the returning man. Dirk looked at Reg and then at the other guy and then to Reg’s amazement, he gave the smiling siren a kiss on the cheek and fled the scene before the boyfriend arrived. Reg just about fell out of his chair. “The guy’s got balls the size of the Grand Canyon,” he murmured.

      Grinning broadly, Dirk returned to his seat at the bar and pushed in next to his buddy. He took a long swig of beer without a peep.

      Reg was incredulous, “What the hell happened over there?”

      “Not much.”

      “Not much! You gave her a kiss on the cheek, and all of that playing with her hair stuff!”

      The corners of Dirk’s mouth turned up in a smile, “I told her I was Marlon Brando’s grandson.”

      “Come off it, smart-ass! What happened?”

      Dirk laughed, “If you insist.”