"KELSO'S SWING" [CHAPTER 15]
Instead of joining Marstrulavich at the Tides, Kelso walked a mile north along the strand and then up a slight incline to Murphy’s Pub, which, under the management of Eli Hawkins, was booming, busiest bar on the beach and a new “In” spot for people from all over LA. Across the street at the Crossroads steakhouse, valets opened doors for the newly rich invading Manhattan Beach. Occasionally, they slummed in Murphy’s.
Kelso shook hands with the bouncers, Chip and Ray, and slipped onto the only available stool to the left, just off the dance floor, which gave him a well-appreciated bird’s eye view of the entire bar. Right off he noticed the coach of Callahan’s lurking near the girls from the Murphy’s softball team across the bar in the right corner near the mensroom and office. He was in fact holding a hi-ball glass and talking to the thirdbaseman, Kaycee, who listened intently, occasionally nodding.
When Kelso was still with Stella he often took her to Murphy’s on Eli’s shifts and tried not to be too obvious in ogling the crowd of stewardesses, nurses, teachers and office women from the sprawling aerospace plants a few miles inland, a virtual cornucopia of world-class flesh that once migrated to the Tampico Tides when that bar had been hot in the early 70s and Kelso had been behind the bar along with Marstrulavich.
He signaled for Eli, flamboyant, charismatic, a high-energy sometime comedian/actor in shorts and green polo shirt. Eli came over, a man who seemed never to cease smiling and laughing. He automatically placed a large bucket of straight Stoli on the rocks before Kelso and ignored his money as he loomed over him, grinning.
“So Kelso, I hear your Tides’ girls won a game.”
“We’re two and one, Eli. We’re hot.”
Eli leered. “We’re three and zip, buddy.”
“I hear you dated the centerfielder, Trudie, hottest volleyball queen on the beach.”
“She’s a sweetheart. And a terrific player.”
“What about the shortstop, Cindy? She seems kind of snooty. You date her?”
He shook his head. “She’s got guy, very nice guy. Cindy’s a sweetheart.”
“What about the thirdbaseman, Kaycee? You date her?”
“Nah. Kaycee’s a dynamic woman. A real piece of work.” He winked conspiratorially. “She’s a handful, but I love her!”
“She seems pretty cocky to me.”
“She’s a sweetheart!”
“Guess they’re all sweethearts to you, Eli.”
Hawkins folded his arms across his chest and pinned Kelso with a dubious gaze. “When yah treat ‘em like sweethearts, they are sweethearts.” He held his gaze on kelso. “Sorry to hear about Stella, she was a great gal, really special, a…”
“…Sweetheart.”
Eli’s laugh boomed above the din. He grinned and nodded. His fellow bartender, beach boy Dean, was snowed, so he moved on as Kelso resumed his surveillance of the area across the bar where the Callahan’s coach seemed to have an easy rapport with Kaycee and two other girls, all holding drinks he paid Dean for. The man was patient and doting with his own girls, like a big brother or kindly uncle. The shortstop’s boy friend was a slender blond man who appeared, to Kelso, to be one of these white wine sipping birdseed eating joggers. There were too many of these types infesting the beach and driving out the once desirable vermin. More and more, the pretty pastel décor of money and style and show was changing the once funky beach towns. Soon there would be no more dives and Kelso would be an out of work dinosaur driven to the nether lands.
Watching the Callahan’s coach operate, and become almost intimately friendly with Kaycee, whose coterie of male admirers lurked on the fringe, it dawned on Kelso that this scavenger was perhaps trying to lure her and players from Murphy’s onto his team. He heard Eli’s booming laugh, waved to him, and Eli came over with a bottle of Schnapps and poured out two shots. They downed them. Kelso tossed a twenty at him. Eli ignored it. Kelso left it there.
“Eli, what’s the story on the guy with the Boston cap and jacket? The one kibitzing with your softball girls?”
“You mean Spike! You’d love him. Great guy!”
Hawkins glided around the bar, everybody’s best pal. Kelso watched Kaycee drift off from her crowd, Spike in tow She was still in her game shorts and jersey, but she’d let her tumbling hair out, and it nearly reached her spine, and she wore a flower in her ear. They headed around the short side of the rectangular bar and stopped at the dart area, where matches were going on among the men, who greeted her with hugs. She owned a majestic walk, head held high, back arched, ass protruded.
She came to the bar and ordered drinks, conversed with Eli, did a shot with him, unleashed a yowl as she slammed her shot glass on the bar, then turned and stared across several heads and faces directly at Kelso, who stared back, then leered and lifted his bucket. She turned away and carried her drinks back to the table near the dartboard. She began throwing darts, taking her time, savoring the spectacle of herself as toms looked on. When she retrieved her darts and came back, Kelso was at the door, still leering at her in a knowing, smug manner before ducking out.
Kelso shook hands with the bouncers, Chip and Ray, and slipped onto the only available stool to the left, just off the dance floor, which gave him a well-appreciated bird’s eye view of the entire bar. Right off he noticed the coach of Callahan’s lurking near the girls from the Murphy’s softball team across the bar in the right corner near the mensroom and office. He was in fact holding a hi-ball glass and talking to the thirdbaseman, Kaycee, who listened intently, occasionally nodding.
When Kelso was still with Stella he often took her to Murphy’s on Eli’s shifts and tried not to be too obvious in ogling the crowd of stewardesses, nurses, teachers and office women from the sprawling aerospace plants a few miles inland, a virtual cornucopia of world-class flesh that once migrated to the Tampico Tides when that bar had been hot in the early 70s and Kelso had been behind the bar along with Marstrulavich.
He signaled for Eli, flamboyant, charismatic, a high-energy sometime comedian/actor in shorts and green polo shirt. Eli came over, a man who seemed never to cease smiling and laughing. He automatically placed a large bucket of straight Stoli on the rocks before Kelso and ignored his money as he loomed over him, grinning.
“So Kelso, I hear your Tides’ girls won a game.”
“We’re two and one, Eli. We’re hot.”
Eli leered. “We’re three and zip, buddy.”
“I hear you dated the centerfielder, Trudie, hottest volleyball queen on the beach.”
“She’s a sweetheart. And a terrific player.”
“What about the shortstop, Cindy? She seems kind of snooty. You date her?”
He shook his head. “She’s got guy, very nice guy. Cindy’s a sweetheart.”
“What about the thirdbaseman, Kaycee? You date her?”
“Nah. Kaycee’s a dynamic woman. A real piece of work.” He winked conspiratorially. “She’s a handful, but I love her!”
“She seems pretty cocky to me.”
“She’s a sweetheart!”
“Guess they’re all sweethearts to you, Eli.”
Hawkins folded his arms across his chest and pinned Kelso with a dubious gaze. “When yah treat ‘em like sweethearts, they are sweethearts.” He held his gaze on kelso. “Sorry to hear about Stella, she was a great gal, really special, a…”
“…Sweetheart.”
Eli’s laugh boomed above the din. He grinned and nodded. His fellow bartender, beach boy Dean, was snowed, so he moved on as Kelso resumed his surveillance of the area across the bar where the Callahan’s coach seemed to have an easy rapport with Kaycee and two other girls, all holding drinks he paid Dean for. The man was patient and doting with his own girls, like a big brother or kindly uncle. The shortstop’s boy friend was a slender blond man who appeared, to Kelso, to be one of these white wine sipping birdseed eating joggers. There were too many of these types infesting the beach and driving out the once desirable vermin. More and more, the pretty pastel décor of money and style and show was changing the once funky beach towns. Soon there would be no more dives and Kelso would be an out of work dinosaur driven to the nether lands.
Watching the Callahan’s coach operate, and become almost intimately friendly with Kaycee, whose coterie of male admirers lurked on the fringe, it dawned on Kelso that this scavenger was perhaps trying to lure her and players from Murphy’s onto his team. He heard Eli’s booming laugh, waved to him, and Eli came over with a bottle of Schnapps and poured out two shots. They downed them. Kelso tossed a twenty at him. Eli ignored it. Kelso left it there.
“Eli, what’s the story on the guy with the Boston cap and jacket? The one kibitzing with your softball girls?”
“You mean Spike! You’d love him. Great guy!”
Hawkins glided around the bar, everybody’s best pal. Kelso watched Kaycee drift off from her crowd, Spike in tow She was still in her game shorts and jersey, but she’d let her tumbling hair out, and it nearly reached her spine, and she wore a flower in her ear. They headed around the short side of the rectangular bar and stopped at the dart area, where matches were going on among the men, who greeted her with hugs. She owned a majestic walk, head held high, back arched, ass protruded.
She came to the bar and ordered drinks, conversed with Eli, did a shot with him, unleashed a yowl as she slammed her shot glass on the bar, then turned and stared across several heads and faces directly at Kelso, who stared back, then leered and lifted his bucket. She turned away and carried her drinks back to the table near the dartboard. She began throwing darts, taking her time, savoring the spectacle of herself as toms looked on. When she retrieved her darts and came back, Kelso was at the door, still leering at her in a knowing, smug manner before ducking out.
