Sloe Gin Fizz
A short story about discos, factories and headbutts
“Tough guys finish first.” Ty Cobb
They had this joke at the factory, calling us girls when we came out of the washroom in our high-waisted pants and platform shoes. “Have fun tonight, girls,” the shippers would say. “Tell those babes, if they want a real man, we’ll be here waiting.” They kept it up as we headed out through the loading dock. Fifteen minutes later, we’d be at this place called The Mechanic, going past the three bouncers, all members of the same family, big guys with mean tempers.
They’d check IDs, but not too closely. They knew we’d come from the factories. Even in our disco clothes, there was still dirt under our nails. We’d sit at the long Formica tables at the front half of the building, drinking with the truckers, until the disco opened up at the back. Women were let in first. Most of them came in the side door, all dressed up like they’d come off a movie set.
He was standing there in a towel. She looked him up and down and said, “Too bad my daughter’s got you.”
Some of them came from factories, too, others the mall. The ones from the mall worked in the clothing stores. It was easier for them getting cleaned up. All we had at the factory was the liquid soap and paper towels. It was a “once over,” and if we took a girl home, we might even try to use their shower. One of the guys did that, and the girl’s mother came home. He was standing there in a towel. She looked him up and down and said, “Too bad my daughter’s got you.”
As soon as the disco opened up, we’d move to the long bar near the dance floor. Everyone switched to mixed drinks, the most popular being the sloe gin fizz. If a girl sat down next to you, maybe you’d offer her one. Or maybe, if she wasn’t good looking, she might offer you one. Either way, the long bar gave you your best chance of meeting someone. Trouble was, as it always is, you had a lot of hard types there. Since the long bar had two sides, you could be facing each other.
One time, a friend I loaded trucks with was sitting talking to a girl. He kept looking across, probably at nothing. Someone over there didn’t like it. He came around and said to my friend, “Do I know you?” Before my friend could answer, he got headbutted. Blood poured, a girl screamed. The bouncers had the asshole outside in minutes, beating him so bad, we didn’t think we’d see him again.
The shippers would cheer, saying, “Now you’re no prettier than us.”
Anything could happen, and sometimes we’d show up to work with black eyes and bandages over the bridge of our noses. The shippers would cheer, saying, “Now you’re no prettier than us.” They were big heavyset types. We’d say, “You should come with us some night, see how you make out.”
Nobody figured they would. They were family men, wives at home, kids. Then one Friday, Louie, the head shipper, he mentioned his wife was in Moncton visiting a relative. He was at loose ends. It turns out, so was Stan, the assistant shipper.
While we were cleaning up later, Louie came in the washroom. He started washing his big heavy face, rubbing the stubble. “Looks like Stan and me are on the loose tonight, girls,” he said. “Where’s this place you go exactly?”
We still didn’t think he was serious. We told him the name and location.
“The Mechanic?” Louise said. “Can I get my oil checked while I’m dancin’?”
Turns out, he and Stan had other clothes in their lockers. They showed up in the parking lot wearing sport shirts and Dickies work pants. “See you over there,” Louie said, packing his big belly in his old Chevrolet.
So we all ended up at The Mechanic, sitting at the Formica tables, ordering pitchers of drafts. Next to us were some truckers and their wives. Louie and Stan fell in easily with them. We thought they might stay there. But then Louie said to the truckers, “Looks like we’re going to see how our lads comport themselves.”
With that, we worked our way to the long bar and ordered sloe gin fizzes.
“What the hell is that?” Stan said. “Looks like sodie pop.”
They gave them a try and winced. Stan wiped his heavy beard.
As the evening progressed, they tried asking girls to dance. None of them were interested in these big hulky men. Louie says to me, “They’re not too friendly these girls, are they?” and I said they probably knew he was married.
“You ever get mistaken for a girl?” Louie said to one of them with a shag haircut. Then he slapped him on the back. “No offense, lad,” he said.
“Married?” he grinned. “I barely know her.” Everyone laughed, even some of the regulars. “You ever get mistaken for a girl?” Louie said to one of them with a shag haircut. Then he slapped him on the back. “No offense, lad,” he said.
Looking across the bar, I noticed one guy staring at us. Then I remembered he was the one who headbutted my friend. He’d cut his hair short. Little tufts stuck out. When he’d set his beer down, he’d stick out his lower lip. I pointed him out to Louie and Stan.
“He’s the one who headbutted Simon,” I said.
“Evening,” Louie called across.
The guy just glared at Louie.
“Not the best conversationist,” Louie said to us.
The music was starting up, people were moving to the dance floor. Stan tried having another go asking a girl to dance and got shot down again. Louie finished his beer and walked around the bar. He squeezed in next to the asshole. They talked for a few minutes and Louie came back.
“That guy’s not the friendliest sort,” Louie said.
“What’d you say to him?” Stan asked.
“Just suggested he not headbutt our loaders. We’ve got deadlines.”
“That we do,” Stan said. “And his response?”
“Quite rude, in fact, Stan. Told me to piss off.”
“Did you ask where he works?”
“Over at Conrad Metals. Forklift driver.”
“You obviously haven’t dealt with many forklift drivers. I used to be one, you know. I don’t think deadlines was the right approach.”
“How would you’ve handled it?”
“Let’s see,” Stan said, going around the bar, squeezing in next to the asshole.
Stan leaned in and said something. The guy stepped back. Stan returned chuckling, clicking glasses with Louie. The guy’s face was all red.
“What did you say to the man?” Louie asked.
“I told him you’d like the next dance.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Smile and wave,” Stan said.
“You’ll have us smoochin’ next.”
Louie and Stan were both big solid men with sizable arms. The guy practically disappeared between them.
They both waved. The guy slammed his beer glass down. He came around the bar. He got right up in Louie’s face. That’s when Stan pressed up behind him. There wasn’t much the guy could do. Louie and Stan were both big solid men with sizable arms. The guy practically disappeared between them.
Someone must’ve gone for the bouncers. Two showed up, pulling Louie and Stan away from the guy. He was red and breathing heavily. He tried to take a last swing at Louie but the bouncers grabbed his arms. They led him out the side door. He kicked the door when it closed. The bouncers went out after him. When they came back, they straightened their sleeves, then approached Louie and Stan.
“Guy’s a hothead,” one bouncer said. “He won’t be back.”
“Shame,” Louie said. “I was hoping we could’ve been friends.”
“Not with that one,” the other bouncer said.
He motioned to the bartender. The bartender brought over two beers.
“On the house,” the first bouncer said.
“I’m liking this place more by the minute,” Stan said.
The bouncers went off. Louie and Stan clinked glasses. They smiled at two girls over on the other side. One of the girls actually smiled back.
“Your Myrna wouldn’t like that,” Stan said to Louie.
“Neither would your Trudy,” Louie replied.
“Now, you lads,” Louie said to us. “Nobody’s stopping you chasing those cuties.”
So we went over and talked to the girls. They wanted to dance. So we danced, then came back to get our drinks. Louie and Stan were settling up their bill.
“Trudy’s waiting up for Stan,” Louie said to us, “and I’m supposed to call Myrna before she turns in. Glad we got over here finally. Might make this a habit.”
Julie had a nine-thirty start at the mall and Tina worked a Tasty-Freez concession.
Off they went out the side doors. We moved over to the girls. Their names were Julie and Tina, both in short dresses, high heels. They were leaving soon, too. Julie had a nine-thirty start at the mall and Tina worked a Tasty-Freez concession.
“Who were those big guys?” Julie asked us.
“We work with them,” I said. “They’re friends.”
“They should be bouncers.”
“Probably.”
“Will you be here next Friday?” Julie asked.
“Sure,” I said. “We’ll meet you, if you like.”
“Let’s just play it by ear,” Tina said.
We walked them to their car.
“Are your friends coming next Friday?” Tina asked.
“If their wives let them,” I said.
“Tina’s got a thing for big guys,” Julie said.
“Not married ones,” Tina said.
“I’ll ask if they want to come,” I said.
“Don’t tell them I said anything,” Tina said.
We kissed them and they got in the car. They waved as they drove off. Going back to the side door, we realized we hadn’t gotten stamped. The bouncers let us in anyway. One of them said to the other, “They’re with the big fellas.”
The other nodded. It was good enough for him.
At the bar, we ordered beer. It was good enough for us.
