Time Jacker by Aaron Crash (nonfiction book recommendations .TXT) 📕

was a conversation starter, and it was popular with the European tourist crowd. Upstairs. behind the mannequin rooms, Pinetree had a little apartment and a guest suite that his folks would stay in when they visited from Florida.

Pinetree would also sometimes rent out the room to drunks who he thought he could trust. Which meant he was always getting screwed over for rent.

Behind the bar was Pinetree, who started losing his hair at nineteen. He’d fought that battle with every bit of money, science, and magical potions he could find. Even still, he refused to go fully bald. So there was a light fringe just above his ears that showed when he wore a hat, a bandana, or a bad toupee.

Tonight was a baseball cap night, and his cap said, “Fuck!” on it in big, scrolly letters. Pinetree was always trying something new with his facial hair, and he’d gone with a trimmed 1990s goatee, which didn’t help his face much. He wore flannel over an old AC/DC For Those About to Rock T-shirt.

He was in his normal position, leaning on the bar, resting his weight on his palms. His regulars were there, as well as a couple of tables of European tourists. That was a new business for Pinetree. He’d managed to get himself into a European travel guide, so he had Germans, French, and Dutch travelers flocking in for his chicken tenders and onion ring combo. Pinetree couldn’t cook, but he did have a waitress that was fearless when it came to breading most anything and tossing whatever into the fryer.

Jack learned early that you didn’t order anything off the menu that wasn’t deep-fat fried.

Jack and Pinetree had gone to Plum Creek High School together. And after Andy died of cancer, Pinetree was the only brother Jack had left—not blood, but in some ways, friends who became brothers could be just as close or closer.

Pinetree straightened up right quick and in a hurry. “Hey, Jack, long time no see!” Though his eyes were on Jack, the bartender was fully aware of Gabby and Bailey. Everyone in the place was staring. Alone, each had a beauty that would stop people in their tracks. Together, they were a major event, and everyone was looking, including a table with a pair of older couples at a booth on the side. They were European and looked relatively wealthy—Jack could tell that their clothes weren’t American. The women were in their fifties but had fashionable haircuts. The men wore suit coats but odd shoes, a cross between dress shoes and sneakers.

“Pinetree, I’ll take an order of your best buffalo wings, extra spicy.” Jack then remembered the angel’s dietary restrictions. “And some onion rings. Gabby is a vegan.”

Pinetree adjusted his cap. “Vegan? Does that mean she eats vegetarians? Is that right?”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t ask.”

Bailey rapped her knuckles on the bar. “I want a fish and chips, and make the fish extra pussy. I mean, extra fishy. What’s that called? A Freudian slip?”

Pinetree smiled like he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or get horny. Probably both. “Sure thing, ma’am.”

Bailey wasn’t done. “And I want a shot and a beer and keep them coming.”

“Can I have a salad and some warm almond milk?” Gabby asked.

Pinetree winced. “Ma’am, you don’t want a salad here. And I have milk, but not almond milk. Can’t find the nipples.”

Gabby chuckled. “Nipples. I understand your joke. Mammals feed milk to their young using their mammary glands. It’s a play on words.”

Pinetree quirked an eyebrow but chuckled along with her.

“Feathers will have beer,” Bailey said loudly. “Come on, Feathers. Drink with me.”

“Beers,” Jack said.

Pinetree yelled to the back to get their food started and then started pouring beers. He threw Bailey two shots. Of course he did. Get that hot brunette coming back night after night and it would triple his business. Never underestimate the power of a pretty girl in a bar.

One of the waitresses, Libby, came out of the kitchen with a tray and started slinging food.

A drunk down the bar, some guy they called Harvey for some reason no one remembered, couldn’t stop staring.

Bailey loved the attention, but Gabby obviously didn’t. She glanced around nervously. She had nothing to be nervous about. Any sign of trouble she could summon her sword and horn and wipe out any threat.

Jack needed privacy. “Hey, Pinetree, is the roof open?”

The bartender shook his head. “Only on the weekends this time of year. Weeknights I lose money on the fuel for the heaters. Why? You don’t want to be social?”

Bailey slammed the shot and drank half the beer, then stuffed pretzels in her mouth. She talked while chewing. “No, Paul, we’re here to sell gold, and Jack here wanted privacy.”

Pinetree laughed nervously. “Jack? What’s going on? And who are your beautiful friends?”

Bailey went to answer, probably to scream she was a sex demon and that Gabby was an angel. Jack shut down that action fast. “This is Bailey to my right, Gabby to my left, and we’re just here to eat and have a few drinks.” He threw Pinetree a look to make sure the bartender knew that they needed to talk in private.

Pinetree had a very healthy skepticism of the law, and running a bar had given him a rather flexible morality. Still, they couldn’t very well discuss business in front of the drunks and the tourists.

“Show him what you can do, Jack,” Bailey urged.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Bailey,” Gabby said stiffly. She hadn’t taken a sip of her beer. She looked painfully uncomfortable. Bailey, on the other hand, would’ve fit in at a bar ten times dirtier.

Pinetree looked like he needed answers, and Jack wasn’t going to keep his talent hidden from his best friend. He turned to the sex demon. “Do you have enough juice to pull him out of the Tempus Influunt?”

Bailey rolled her eyes. “Of course. What we did with Ginger behind the Cupid’s Arrow was so hot.”

When Pinetree heard that,