Angie was not one for particulars, anything with alcohol would do just fine.  She never was one of those expert types when it came to beer or pretty much anything else. Angie kept her life simple by letting others make most decisions for her.

While she stood in line to the female restrooms, I eyed the waitress in an attempt to get her attention. Her arm was full of colored tattoos and her hair was as orange as a neon light.

“What can I get you?” she smiled.

“Any beer specials tonight?” I inquired.

“All of our beers are specials but there is no happy hour if that ‘s you trying to find out.”

“How much is a Stella?”

“Six fifty.”

“And a Sam Adams?”

“Six fifty.”

“Do all of your beers cost fifty?”

“Na, some of them go up as high as $12.00, some of our beers have more than 8% alcohol in them, but it looks like you are more of the thrifty type.”

I took no offense, instead I continued “You god damn right I am thrifty and if by thrifty you mean cheap than I am guilty as charged. Do you have anything in this place that costs less than $6.50?”

“Well,” she sighed “there is always the PBR.”

“And how much is that?

“PBRs are $3.50, can I get you one?”

“Get me two.” And then she walked away.

I felt no shame about my stingy attitude. Where I come from beers cost no more than a handful of bucks. Sure, Boston is a town full of rich college students and ultra liberal rich types.

These people would pay a premium for piss in a cup and thank the bartender for serving it them with such style. I guess that money is a little bit  more tight for some than for others. I fell into the former group. With a $20 bill in my pocket and two mouths to feed, I had to focus on getting drunk and not on the drink’s quality. A man had to make sacrifices at times and PBR would do just fine.

Angie came to the table  and placed a warm kiss on the back of my neck as she sat down next to me. Her hair was no longer collected in a bun, She let it loose upon her shoulders.

“So what are we drinking tonight?” she asked.

“Beers, cheap beer, PBRs. Have you ever had a PBR before Angie?”

“No Sir, I can not say that I have ever had myself one. Are they any good?”

“Actually, they are pretty bad..” I smiled.

“So why did you order them?” she asked.

“They were the cheapest thing on the menu.”

“Are things that bad?” She asked.

“Things are only as bad as we will let them be, “ I smiled “don’t concern yourself with how much the beers cost Angie, the main question is will they get you drunk and the answer should be a clear yes..”

She brought her body closer to mine and her tits across my chest. “Tell me you love me, will you Jake?”

I turned my eyes towards the waitress, it has been more than five minutes since I placed my order. “Cheap beers or not, I pretty much think that I deserve some God dman service, don’t you think?”

“Why do you always change the subject when it comes to the way you feel? Why is it that all of you men have such trouble with expressing your emotions.” Angie nodded her head with disapproval.  Her eyes were lonely and her face painted with age.

Finally, the waitress came around. “Here you go Sir, two our establishments’ best cans of PBRs.”

“Well, it sure took you long enough,” I sighed, “you always that slow on bringing them beers around?”

“Take it easy cowboy,” she smiled “and besides, you don’t seem like the heavy tipper kind of a clientele so what do you expect?”

Angie seemed apprehensive throughout the exchange. She was not one for any sorts of conflict no matter how small the scale. While we were trading literal punches, she buried her eyes within the piles of junk that occupied her purse. She pretended to be looking for something, anything to keep her out of the conversation.

But I rather enjoyed it all, “Tell me, what gives anyways, this bar is called Bukowski’s but Hank Bukowski couldn’t afford to drink anything in here besides a Diet Coke or a glass of water, what the hell is up with these prices anyways?”

“I don’t make price decisions in this place honey,” she smiled. “I only serve beers to loud mouth know it alls and tonight seems like real exception, know what I mean?”

I sure did. This girl was already and I was just busting balls. I took a five bill out of my pocket and gave her a smile, “well, better a smartass than a dumbass, don’t you agreed.”

She turned back with a smile as she walked away.

That night when Angie was taking it from the back, I closed my eyes and fantasized about giving it straight to that waitress in lue of a tip.

Bukowski’s in Boston is an ok bar, a bit overpriced and just as overhyped as any other.

Angie asked me to hold her after I wiped away the sweat from my shoulder. She whispered something in my ear about just how much she loved me and then fell into the night.

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