Forever Never Ends
“In fact, he shouldn't have gone there at all. The blue jeans, cowboy hats, and flannel shirts should have tipped him off, plus the name of the place wasn't exactly a drawing card for the yuppie generation. And he could have taken a cue from the band that was playing at one end of the huge old barn. "Big Willie and the Half-Watts." Yee-haw.
But driving by, he'd seen that big-screen TV through the window, and March Madness was in full swing. He liked to watch the tournament even if the teams playing were Fleaspeck Valley State and Bumfield Tech.
The people had been nice enough at first. The bartender had taken his money without drawing back his hand from the contact. Not a single overt response to James’s skin. Probably a few remarks slithered from the corner booths, but midway through the second beer, the edges of his awareness had tunneled considerably, and about the only white eye that bothered him was Dick Vitale's glass one.
Then the girl had talked to him.
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