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"You?" she said. "I would have thought that you would be the one to break hearts." Now, I laughed. "Well, thank you for that," I said. "The lift to my ego is well appreciated." She tendered me a quizzical smile, nodded, and headed off down the bar to do her duty. Over the next two weeks I got to know Marty. Not well enough to call us friends, but we did seem to get along well enough; and, I thought she was making an effort to serve me a trifle better than most customers, though really that could have been wishful thinking on my part. I'd learned she was thirty-five years old, had a string of failed relationships, never married, was rot gut poor, had two kids, had aborted a third, did part time bar work at three different places to make ends meet, and was desperately looking to hook up with some guy with money who was willing to overlook her baggage. Clearly my kind of woman, so I asked her out, so she said yes. "Well, mister, tonight is my last shift here. Red's gonna be back in. My cracked ribs were tightly encased in what made me look like a practice mummy or something, where the lesson of the day was "Cover the torso and wait for the instructor to check your work." I was three hundred bucks in the red, and it was only that much because I drove myself to the hospital, instead of taking an ambulance. The emergency room doctor had wanted to call the police, but I told him not to."It was just a little misunderstanding," I'd told him. "I went to a bat fight without a bat, that's all."I wouldn't find out until much later that the doc had a sense of humor. When the tape finally came off I would find that, in indelible marker, he'd carefully put a big black X right over the crack. Above that was the word "Louisville." It took a month to wear off.I couldn't do much of anything until my ribs quit screaming at me every time I took a breath. I didn't call Ronnie either. I was much too embarrassed by what had happened. I wasn't all that worried about the cops. Even if.
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