Snakes

The black-and-white TV flicked shadowed images over the bar. Cody sat in the dim corner, took another swig of his beer, and swallowed courage he didn't have.

Snakes Bar was lit by old-fashioned wall sconces that cast dull yellow light over the timber booth seats and tables. A stage stretched across the back of the room, the dance floor, scarred by years of high-heeled, boot-scootin' dancers, begged for attention. Stale cigarette smoke and sweat mingled with the smell of beer and cologne.

The customers were old men who'd no doubt lived the best part of their lives in bars similar to this. Cody wondered if he'd be one of them in thirty or forty years. It'd be better than he deserved. He ran his fingers around the rim of his stubby and stared at the label.

Stool legs scraped on the old tiles; a man struggled to stand, his fingers, more bone than flesh, clawed at the counter and then swept a mat of grease-streaked hair from his gaunt face. He held his hand out to a woman, hidden by long tresses and baggy clothes. "Give it to me!"

"He said no, that you owe him," she said. "Fro... from the last time. I... I'm sorry."

Cody's interest piqued. He set his stubby down and listened. Her voice sounded young, though the sight of her gave nothing away.

A hush blanketed the bar. Each man fixed their eyes on the TV. No one lifted a drink. The barman stared at the pair; his hands set firm on the counter.

Like a cannonball, the man's fist shot out, caught her on the cheek, and knocked her to the ground.

"What the fuck?" Cody lurched to his feet.

"Whoa!" The barman held out his hand. "Wait. It's nought to do with you." He rounded the bar, elbowed past Cody then slammed his hand on the bench. "Enough, Findlay. You know I won't have any of that in here."

No one stirred other than to glance at the pair. They focused on Cody, then back on the TV.

The girl got to her feet, clutched her hands and focused on the floor.

If the man hit her again, Cody didn't care what the barman said. He wouldn't stand back.

She shuffled and wrapped her arms around her body. "I...I'm sorry, Dad. It...it's what he said. You gotta pay him first. Then he'll take it."

"Give it back!" The drunk, Findlay, wasn't as old as he appeared. The girl handed him a necklace.

"Stupid no-good fucking bitch." Findlay raised his hand again, unbalanced, then yawed like an anchored boat before he grasped the bar.

Cody butted against the bartender, who shoved him back.

"Enough, Findlay!" The barman knocked the drunk's arm away. "You go on home. You've had ample." He faced the girl, "Take him home, Fin. He's done here tonight."

Fin? Cody peered through the shadows. Not a girl. A boy with long hair. The father called her a stupid bitch. Had to be a girl.

She took hold of her father's arm. He wrenched it away and shoved her backwards. "Fuck off. I'm not a cripple."

The girl stumbled, regained her balance, and followed him to the door. When they were gone Cody sat on his stool.

"You're new to Cooktown?" The barman said.

"Yeah."

"You take no notice of them. He does it all the time."

"Does what? Gets drunk or, hits her or, both," Cody said, "that shit doesn't sit well with me. She's a girl, right?"

The barman offered his hand. "Snake Stoller."

"Cody."

"That's it?" Snake cocked his head. "You got no last name?"

"You didn't answer my question." Cody scowled. "Was it a girl?"

"Just like you didn't answer mine." Snake laughed and shook his head in disbelief. "Yes, she's a girl. And yeah... he gets drunk and hits her."

"Why didn't someone stop it?" Cody eyed the other men at the bar.

"I did."

"Yes, you did." Cody sneered and downed the drink.

"We're used to it." Snake removed the empty stubby. "If you come often enough, you'll get used to it too."

"Why doesn't she scream? Retaliate."

"You want another beer?"

"Yeah."

Snake put a stubby on the counter and said, "She doesn't know anything else." He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the bar then lowered his voice. "He don't hate her. If anyone tries to hurt her, he'll kill them. He's done it before. Well... didn't kill them but did a pretty good job trying."

"Right... so he can hurt her, but if anyone else does, he takes offence?" Cody turned up his nose. "Sounds like he needs to take a good look at himself."

Snake nudged his head towards two men at the far end of the bar. "Them two there are the Gallo brothers. They raped her. Findlay went after them with a gun, got the big one in the leg. The other took off. Nothin' came of it. Said it was an accident. They didn't want to get done for rape and he didn't want to get done for attempted murder."

"Jesus." Cody gaped. "They drink in the same pub. He's okay with that? What about her?" He ran his hand through his untidy fair hair in disbelief. "She didn't sound too old to me?"

"Oi, Snake."

The Barman turned to the big man at the end of the counter. "Yeah."

"Chuck one of them pies in the microwave for us, would ya?"

Snake nudged his head, tapped his hand on the counter and said to Cody, "Be back in a minute."

"Not too hot. I don't want the bastard to burn my lip," the Gallo said then looked up at the TV Screen.

The microwave beeped. Snake put the plastic-wrapped pie on a paper plate, dumped it on the counter, took coins from the small pile of money in front of the man, tossed it in a tin beside the cooker and then went and leaned on the bar in front of Cody.

"I gotta say," Cody said. "Your service is impeccable."

Snake laughed. "That's my D game. You come back; you might see me step it up to a C."

"So, you don't like having them here," Cody said and took a swig of his beer.

Snake rested his elbows on the bar and gripped his hands together. "Been away for a while, the Gallos have. Went south." Snake glanced at the two men again. "It took the big one a long time to get over that bullet. Fucked him pretty good." He sighed and shook his head. "She was fifteen, sixteen. Let's see, she'd be nineteen, or twenty now, I reckon. That's why she's stuck to Findlay like glue ever since. I suppose being beaten is better than being raped." He jerked his head towards the men once more. "They watch her. He knows it. The way I see it, it's not finished yet." Snake tapped his hand on the counter. "So, you stay out of it," he said, "or you might find yourself with a bullet in your butt, Mister Cody No Name."

Cody focused on his stubby and scratched a pattern on the label with his fingernail. Some people's lives were fucked. The truth was, everybody's life was fucked in one way or another. It was the level of fucked that tipped the balance.

"Vodka, Snake."

The barman poured the drink and gave it to the large woman who'd stepped up to the counter.

"Thanks." She lifted the glass to her mouth. "Hey, you reckon we can have it on seven?" She pointed her glass at the TV, the movement sent a wave through her sumo-sized arm.

"It is on seven," Snake said.

"Oh!" She took a mouthful of her drink and gazed at Cody. "I like Dancing with the Stars. You like that show?"

"Never watched it," Cody said. He wasn't interested in conversation because his gut churned with acid after hearing the barman's story about the girl.

"You'll like it. You like dancing?" the big woman said.

Cody didn't answer.

She swept her long silky grey hair behind her ear. Her elbow made a brief appearance then got sucked back into its hiding place when she lowered her hand. "I like dancing. Use to be good at it."

Cody took a mouthful of beer and studied her. A woman this size, dancing, was hard to imagine.

"Snake!" She put the empty tumbler on the polished timber and said to Cody, "You don't say much."

He tilted his head and raised one shoulder to brush off her words before taking another swig of his beer.

"It's okay," she said, "I had a husband the same. Didn't talk much. He got up in the middle of the night and walked out the door. Never did come back through it. Took the fucking car."

Snake put another drink in front of her. She lifted the glass in salute. "Cunt," she said, then hobbled across the room.

Cody chuckled. She was one big woman. He wasn't sure if she was calling him a cunt or the husband who'd taken the car and not come back.

His gaze left her and landed on the two men at the far end of the bar. The Gallos stared at the TV screen, a woman's tennis match. Cody didn't recognise the players.

A cheer transmitted from the television. The smaller brother cooeed. "They should make it illegal for them girls to wear short skirts. They dress like that for the attention. You reckon?"

"Yeah, Rees," the larger said. "If they didn't wear those clothes no one would watch them play, you moron."

The big man devoured his pie. He shuffled on his seat and then took a mouthful of his drink. They appeared like ordinary men to Cody. Big and bulky, closer to thirty than twenty. Pump station workers or accountants, he'd never be able to guess, but learning what they were capable of, made him sick.

The girl wasn't tall, five feet at most and would have been even smaller four or five years ago. He hung his head in an attempt to erase the image of what these men had done to her.

The vision of a blood-splattered car flashed in his mind.

Thank you so much for reading. I'd love to see a vote or a comment.♥♥♥

Copyright © 2025 by Donna Fieldhouse. All rights reserved.

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