Green Lizard Lounge by Nina Welch

Two old lady best friends stand in front of the Green Lizard Lounge , est. 1955. Angie is tall with ample boobs. She has silver hair piled on top of her head stylishly. Lucy’s bleached curly hair makes her look younger than her 84 years. Neither of them dress like old ladies. Angie wears leggings, a black and white striped knit top, and black glittery Tom’s. Lucy wears a denim dress and sandals. They both shop at vintage thrift stores.

“Lucy, remember when we used to sneak in the back?”
“You made me go. I was scared.”
“They frowned on women alone in bars in the 50s and we were 21.”
“Yeah and naive.”
“Not me.”
“You weren’t born naïve, Angie.”
“Here we go in the front door bitches.” Angie puts her arm through Lucy’s and it takes two of them to open the heavy wooden door with brass lizard bolts.
It’s dark inside the Lizard. The gals squint as they come in from the bright light.
The juke box plays ‘Memories are Made of This.’ Lucy perks up to the tune.

“Dean Martin. He’s dreamy. That song is number two on ‘Your Hit Parade’.” Lucy turns to Angie just inside the bar. “I hope someone cards us. I just got my new license. I want to show that I’m officially 21.” She’s young and fresh in a pink gingham sundress just right for a spring day.

A very young, very handsome bartender shakes a martini shaker behind the bar with fervor.

“I’ll tell you who’s dreamy. Check out the bartender. Let’s see if we can get seats up at the bar.” Angie’s freckled face shines. Her long brown hair in a pony tail. She wears a Madras plaid jumper and red flats.

A little old lady in lavender silk sits at a table in the corner sipping her sherry.

“There’s just guys at the bar. Where are all the women?”

“That old lady in the corner drinking sherry and reading her book.”

“No, I mean young women like us.”

“I like those odds. There’s a couple of stools. Grab em.”

Angie sits next to a guy reading a newspaper. Headlines read: EINSTEIN DEAD AT 76.

This is Charlie. He’s in his mid 20s, a little pudgy, sandy slicked-back hair, and wire-rimmed glasses. He’s attractive in a European, effeminate way.

“Einstein died?” Angie extends her hand. “I’m Angie. This is Lucy.”

“I’m Charles. Most people call me Charlie. Yeah, sad. He died in his sleep of a long illness in New Jersey.”

“Seventy-six. That’s old. I can’t imagine living that long.”

The bartender comes over to the girls.

“Hi ladies, what’ll you have?”

Angie looks at the bartender’s nametag which reads MILLER.

“Hi. Is Miller your first name or last name?”

“Yes.”

“Huh?” He smiles at her confusion.

“I’ll have a bourbon on the rocks. What are you having, Lucy?”

“A martini.”

“Sophisticated drinks for such young ladies. Can I see your licenses?”

Both girls show their IDs to Miller. Angie teases. “You just want to see my phone number.”

Miller gives her a big sexy smile and turns around to attend to their order. They both check out his tight butt.

“He sure looks good in that apron. I’d like to take him home and do a little cooking.”

“Angie, you’re married.”

“Separated.”

“He is pretty cute. You’re right about the apron. I’ve never seen a leather one.”

“You have a fiancée.”

“He’s in Guam.”

“Your handsome Marine. Speaking of uniforms,” Angie turns to Charlie who’s still reading the paper.

“Why are you wearing a mailman’s uniform?”

“Because I’m a mailman.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

“For what? I get off early.”

“Wearing your uniform in the bar?”

“They won’t find me here.”

“Who?”

“The Feds.” Charlie lights up a cigarette and goes back to his paper. “Look at this, the Russians are way ahead of us. Sputniks are circling the globe with dogs riding in them, 4,000 miles into space and returning.”

The girls ignore the know-it-all. Miller sets their drinks in front of them and before Lucy can take a sip of her martini, a drunk guy walks up to her.

“Hey baby, is it hot in here or is it just you?” He stumbles almost into her lap as he’s saying this. Lucy tries to ignore him but he persists. “Can I have your number because I lost mine.”

Miller reaches over the bar and grabs the guy by his collar. “Alright, buddy, stop bothering these young ladies.” The guy doesn’t fight back. Miller is a large presence. He comes around from the bar and walks him to a corner table and sits him down.
The guy slips down in his chair to the waking state of drunk. “How about bringing me a whiskey, Miller, neat?”

“As long as you stay put and don’t bother anyone.”

Miller walks back to the bar past Angie and Lucy.

The juke box plays “Only You.”

“Not only is he dreamy, he’s my hero.”

Charlie puts down his paper and offers the girls a cigarette. Only Angie accepts. She takes it and he lights it up for her.

“Thanks, Charlie, you’re quite the gentleman.”

“There’s a lot of talk about cigarettes being harmful. Probably more people die from heart attacks from over-eating but I never hear anyone talk against eating except my doctor.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Aren’t you the walking encyclopedia.”

Angie takes a drag. “I like smoking. It keeps my figure slim and makes me look older. What do you know about Miller, Charlie?”

“Miller is a mysterious character. He just showed up out of nowhere last week and he keeps things in check. It’s not so rowdy anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“There used to be fights and no ladies would show up except Maude and no one bothers her.”

“I don’t see any now?”

“They come in later in groups. They like to dance.”

A couple of waiters from a restaurant down the street walk in and approach Miller.

“How much for Parcheesi?”

Miller directs them to the backroom.

Angie is curious. “What’s Parcheesi, Miller?”

“It’s a betting-game locals like to play when they get off work.”

“Why is it in the backroom?”

“It’s a little illegal but it’s harmless. Don’t worry.”

Charlie pipes up with a little trivia on the subject. “Parcheesi was invented in India in the 1800s, but nowadays it’s code for sex.”

“No one’s having sex in the backroom, Charlie,” says Miller. “Sorry ladies.”

“How exciting. Are we going to get raided?”

“No, Angie,” says Lucy. “My grandma plays Bingo for money at her church.”

“Oh, damn.”

Another guy in his early-30s walks up to the bar and sits next to Charlie. They ignore the girls.

Angie gets in his face. “Hey, Charlie, I don’t like to be ignored. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Michael. He’s a UPS driver in town, off duty.”

“Why doesn’t he wear his uniform in the bar?”

“Smart, I guess.” Charlie turns to Miller. “Hey Miller, how about a martini for my friend.”

Miller nods and pours a drink for Michael from the shaker and adds two olives on a toothpick. Charlie and Michael resume their conversation.

“The bar is getting crowded now. Where did all these young women come from?”

“Our odds are decreasing fast, but I’m only interested in hot stuff.”

“What about Ted, Angie?”

“He’s engaged.”

“You’re not even divorced.”

“It’ll be final in ten days. He wants kids.”

“Sorry it didn’t work out for you.”

“Guess I wasn’t built to have babies.”

“What a jerk.”

“I wasn’t that into him. I prefer being single.”

“Aren’t you lonely? You’re an only child and your mom’s dead. Where’s your dad?”

“I don’t know.”

“How sad.”

“We never got along. Besides, I have you, my best friend, and hopefully a date with a sexy bartender.”

The juke box plays “Rock Around the Clock” and a nice looking semi-sober young man asks Lucy to dance. She gets up and dances three in a row with the guy.
Miller holds the Jack Daniels bottle up in front of the window. It shines like it’s the Holy Grail. He nods to Angie.

“More bourbon?”

“Just a touch.”

He smiles at Angie while pouring her drink and she melts into the bar stool.

“Hey Miller, what’s a cool guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Sounds like a line to me.”

“It is, did it work?”

“You’re quite brazen for a young girl.”

“I’m 22.”

“Yeah, what do you know about life? Do you have any sense of time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Time in between.”

“What?”

“The space in between time. All the motionless world of time in between.”

Angie feels dizzy. She sees a fleshy shadow in her peripheral vision.

“I feel kind of strange.”

“How?”

“Like one part of me is wound up tight like a clock so tight it can’t be rewound.”

“Like time standing still?”

“Is this the in between?”

Miller mumbles under his breath. “Could be.”

“What?”

Lucy runs up to Angie at the bar frantically and out of breath.

“Angie, we got to go. Mac’s going to call me from Guam at five and I don’t want to miss him. “What time is it?”

Angie is still entranced by Miller and Charlie adds one of his anecdotes.

“The telephone. What did we ever do without the telephone? A wonderful invention. Without the telephone, there would be no telephone books. Without the telephone book, we couldn’t address our Christmas cards.”

Lucy sits back down on the stool and looks at her watch. “Oh-oh. Looks like I missed the call.”

“Lucy, you’re all sweaty.”

“Yeah, that was fun. Looks like rock and roll is here to stay.”

“Life is like a bicycle. In order to keep your balance, you must keep moving.”

“Where did that come from, Charlie?”

“Einstein. Einstein said that.” He turns back to his friend and they are immediately engrossed in conversation.

“If I hear one more piece of trivia from Charlie, I’m going to freak out.”

“I think he’s funny, Lucy, and we’re learning a lot.”

Like on cue, Charlie turns back around and holds up his newspaper. “Did you know that newspapers become obsolete pretty fast?”

“Oh no, I guess I opened my mouth too soon.”

Charlie ignores Angie’s comment. ”I am reading today’s paper today and I will read tomorrow’s paper tomorrow.  I don’t want to mix up that sequence. If I were reading tomorrows paper today, I might find an article that said I had been run over by a truck.”

After last call, Angie and Lucy pull open the heavy wooden door together. Departing the way they entered, arm in arm, they stand outside the Lizard in their ancient bodies. The moon moves into sight from behind the clouds and the night is clear. 

“Angie, isn’t that Charlie going into the bar across the street?”

“He’s going into ‘It’s Bout Time’.”

“He’s in his 80s.”

“Is he gay?”

“Well, I’ll be. No wonder he never hit on us.”

Angie spots Miller outside in the back of the bar emptying liquor bottles into the recycle bin. He’s still tall, handsome, and 25.

Angie calls after him. “Miller, is that you?”  Her old body rejuvenates as she runs towards him like she has wings on her feet.

Lucy chases after her slowly. “Angie, wait. How can you move so fast with your bad knee?”

Miller goes inside the bar and Angie follows. One of her glittery Tom’s falls off her foot as she slips inside. Lucy reaches the back door and it’s locked. She grabs the shoe and goes around to the front door of the bar.

Green Lizard Lounge, est. 1955. Lucy enters the crowded bar still holding the black glittery shoe. She looks for Angie frantically. A female bartender is shaking a martini shaker. An old guy sits in the corner wearing a faded MAGA ballcap. Bar patrons are busy on their cell phones. She can’t find Angie anywhere. The juke box plays an oldie, Earth Angel by the Penguins.

Nina Welch

Image by Lei-Ling from Pixabay – three glasses of a martini cocktail with twists of citrus rind over the rim.