August, 2015: Part Two

"Alex, would you mind giving me a hand here?"

Alex threw his cleaning towel over his shoulder, glanced to his sole patron (now situated in a corner booth,) and nodded to his boss. "Sure," he said with a slight pull of his upper lip. It was almost a smile, but if Darwin ever called him out on it, he'd outright refuse it as truth. "Where do you want it, man?"

Darwin motioned towards the opposite end of the kitchen's entrance with his chin. He was cradling a large container of beer bottles to his chest, using his thin hip to keep the swinging door from closing on his face. "We're out in the fridge, so fill her up."

Alex took hold of each end of the crate, careful to avoid pinching the other's fingers before he easily hefted it over to the specified cooler. He made quick work of setting it down on the counter, sliding open the cooler doors, and pulling out two beer bottles at a time. "That guy's been here for a few hours. Think I should call him a cab?"

The dark-skinned manager brushed his hands together before grabbing a plastic remote from the counter. He turned off one television and then another before he looked to where the inebriated customer had secluded himself. He glanced at his watch and then back to the man.

He sighed. "I'll give him a ride if he's within the city limit."

Alex rolled his eyes and hid a comment about being "too nice" or possibly "too stupid" under his breath and amid the clinking of glass bottles. He bustled a little longer before the thought struck him. He tilted his head to the side. "Did you even bring the cab here?"

"Of course," Darwin replied almost incredulously. He scratched the back of his head as he tried to determine whether or not the other man would even appreciate the offer of a lift. "Did you happen to catch his name?"

Alex paused, looked heavenward, and pretended to look dreamy. "Yeah, and his number too." He huffed in laughter at his own joke. "Are you kidding?"

"Easy, smart guy. I sign the checks." Darwin teasingly nudged his friend's shoulder before rounding the bar and making his way toward the booth. The customer was listing to the side, either immersed in a drunken haze or a light doze. Darwin debated on whether or not he should clear his throat or place a hand on the other's shoulder when a blank spot on his photo-covered wall caught his eye. He looked down at the tabletop and realized that the customer had taken the oak frame down and had it clutched in his left hand.

"Sir?" Darwin leaned over. He gingerly snagged the corner of the frame and tugged it from the man's grip. The photo was slightly blurry, as it was of two hockey players in the middle of throwing simultaneous punches, but at least one face was easily identifiable. The taller player was unmistakably the man currently sitting in his bar's booth. Surprised, and slightly humbled, Darwin tried again.

"Sir? Mr. Lehnsherr? It's me. The cabbie?"

The ginger-haired man visibly started with a grunt, but it didn't seem to be out of any recognition. He leveled a gray-eyed stare on Darwin's ear before bobbing his head back to the wall.

"Alex, what's his tab at?"

"Uh, 50-odd bucks. That's not including tip," he grumbled from behind the bar. He rummaged around before snagging a hand-written receipt and called out, "56."

"His drinks are on the house tonight," Darwin said in reply, quickly adding, "Your tip will be added in the next check."

"It better be," Alex snorted as he wrote down the note on the receipt, and placed the pen behind his ear. "Seriously, man. You've got to stop buying people's drinks. It's bad business, and why you have to drive a cab on the side."

Darwin made to reassure his bartender when the front door of his bar opened. He turned to let the person know that they were closing when the familiarity of the face finally registered.

"Charles!"

"Hello, old friend."

TBC...