out."
I was still blushing, but I hoped he couldn't tell in the dim light of the bar. "I'm okay," I realized. "He wasn't saying anything mean."
"He wasn't saying anything untrue, either."
I blushed again, but this time I was saved by the appearance of Rosie at the bar. "Hey there J. You still need me?" she asked in a broad South Philly accent.
J. swiveled in his chair. "Is the kitchen still open, Rosie?"
The bartender wiped her hands on her apron. "It is if you ask me nice."
"Ain't I always nice to you, gorgeous?" J. flashed his dimples again and I could see they had the same effect on the older woman as they did on me.
She grinned and leaned forward, treating us to perfect view of the deep valley of her cleavage. "Cheese fries sound good? I still have some bacon crumbles."
J. turned to me. "How's that sound Emmy? You said you were hungry."
I opened my mouth to protest. Cheese fries. All those carbs.
My mouth watered. "That sounds great, thanks Rosie."
She smiled at me, "No problem, doll. Anything for these guys." She headed back to the kitchen and I heard her bark something at the staff.
"What does she mean?" I turned to J. "Why will she do anything for you?"
"Heh," J. drummed the bar with his fingers. "You remember the flash mobs last summer?"
"Of course." It had been all over the news. My mother had praised God that I was home for the summer as we watched the breathless newscasters describing the packs of roaming teenagers who overran South Street. Muggings, random beatings and huge acts of vandalism were reported. I got an email from school about it, even though I was home for summer vacation.
"Those groups of kids who got together and just went wild. That was down here wasn't it?" I realized.
"Right down the middle of the street,' J. nodded. "There must have been fifty of them, maybe even a hundred. Well Teach," he gestured to an older black man sitting on a stool in the corner, "he saw them coming. The Sons of Steel, we were down here for another celebration, uh..." he paused for a second, "the uh, end of my semester, and Rosie was terrified. A smaller group of kids had come through the weekend before and she was still waiting for her replacement windows. Friend of hers had gotten his store trashed so bad he was thinking of closing."
"So what happened?"
J. looked at me. "We stopped 'em."
"You stopped them?" I looked around. "Is this everyone?" I had counted six men dressed in black leather.
J. sipped his beer. "What punk kid's gonna go up against bikers? Not a smart one, I'll tell you that." He gestured to Teach again. "He stood in the doorway with his arms folded. Rest of us stood behind him. Told the kids to keep moving. This place was left untouched."
I was impressed. "They didn't fight you?"
"Didn't even try. Crash was ready to beat some asses." J. chuckled and took a long pull of his beer. "I think he was kinda disappointed."
I laughed out loud, and was shocked at myself. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be. Sons of Steel eat and drink free here ever since. Teach doesn't want us putting Rosie out of business though, so we only come here for special occasions."
"Like tonight?"
"Like tonight."
I was curious. Finals weren't over yet at the University of the Arts. This was early to have graduated already. "Where did you go?"
J. drained the last of his beer. "Some place upstate you never heard of."
"I'm from upstate. Carbon County. Maybe I've heard of it."
"Trust me you haven't. Let's shut up about me, whaddya say?" The emerald shards in his eyes glinted at me. "I want to know your story. How'd you end up here at Rosie's?"
I hesitated, groping for a plausible story. "Fighting with my roommate," I blurted.
J. nodded. "Living with other people is tough."
I looked at my hands. Lying usually came so easily to me, but his eyes made me want to tell the truth. I was suddenly ashamed of how quickly I could spin stories.
He watched me. "Hey there, sorry if I touched a nerve."
I realized I had
I was still blushing, but I hoped he couldn't tell in the dim light of the bar. "I'm okay," I realized. "He wasn't saying anything mean."
"He wasn't saying anything untrue, either."
I blushed again, but this time I was saved by the appearance of Rosie at the bar. "Hey there J. You still need me?" she asked in a broad South Philly accent.
J. swiveled in his chair. "Is the kitchen still open, Rosie?"
The bartender wiped her hands on her apron. "It is if you ask me nice."
"Ain't I always nice to you, gorgeous?" J. flashed his dimples again and I could see they had the same effect on the older woman as they did on me.
She grinned and leaned forward, treating us to perfect view of the deep valley of her cleavage. "Cheese fries sound good? I still have some bacon crumbles."
J. turned to me. "How's that sound Emmy? You said you were hungry."
I opened my mouth to protest. Cheese fries. All those carbs.
My mouth watered. "That sounds great, thanks Rosie."
She smiled at me, "No problem, doll. Anything for these guys." She headed back to the kitchen and I heard her bark something at the staff.
"What does she mean?" I turned to J. "Why will she do anything for you?"
"Heh," J. drummed the bar with his fingers. "You remember the flash mobs last summer?"
"Of course." It had been all over the news. My mother had praised God that I was home for the summer as we watched the breathless newscasters describing the packs of roaming teenagers who overran South Street. Muggings, random beatings and huge acts of vandalism were reported. I got an email from school about it, even though I was home for summer vacation.
"Those groups of kids who got together and just went wild. That was down here wasn't it?" I realized.
"Right down the middle of the street,' J. nodded. "There must have been fifty of them, maybe even a hundred. Well Teach," he gestured to an older black man sitting on a stool in the corner, "he saw them coming. The Sons of Steel, we were down here for another celebration, uh..." he paused for a second, "the uh, end of my semester, and Rosie was terrified. A smaller group of kids had come through the weekend before and she was still waiting for her replacement windows. Friend of hers had gotten his store trashed so bad he was thinking of closing."
"So what happened?"
J. looked at me. "We stopped 'em."
"You stopped them?" I looked around. "Is this everyone?" I had counted six men dressed in black leather.
J. sipped his beer. "What punk kid's gonna go up against bikers? Not a smart one, I'll tell you that." He gestured to Teach again. "He stood in the doorway with his arms folded. Rest of us stood behind him. Told the kids to keep moving. This place was left untouched."
I was impressed. "They didn't fight you?"
"Didn't even try. Crash was ready to beat some asses." J. chuckled and took a long pull of his beer. "I think he was kinda disappointed."
I laughed out loud, and was shocked at myself. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be. Sons of Steel eat and drink free here ever since. Teach doesn't want us putting Rosie out of business though, so we only come here for special occasions."
"Like tonight?"
"Like tonight."
I was curious. Finals weren't over yet at the University of the Arts. This was early to have graduated already. "Where did you go?"
J. drained the last of his beer. "Some place upstate you never heard of."
"I'm from upstate. Carbon County. Maybe I've heard of it."
"Trust me you haven't. Let's shut up about me, whaddya say?" The emerald shards in his eyes glinted at me. "I want to know your story. How'd you end up here at Rosie's?"
I hesitated, groping for a plausible story. "Fighting with my roommate," I blurted.
J. nodded. "Living with other people is tough."
I looked at my hands. Lying usually came so easily to me, but his eyes made me want to tell the truth. I was suddenly ashamed of how quickly I could spin stories.
He watched me. "Hey there, sorry if I touched a nerve."
I realized I had
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