Zebulon Zenith was glad to hear the whistle blow signaling an end to the workday, when he did, he and his crew headed for the gates without delay.
He
hung up his work hat, goggles and duster.
He
splashed some water on his face and washed his hands.
He
donned his bowler, grabbed his lunch box and thermos.
He
punched his timecard and left the flour mill off Main Street by the river.
He
walked up to Hennepin Avenue, on his way to the polka bar with the boys for a
pint.
It
was raining hard, so Zeb walked swiftly, but he didn’t run. The weather felt
good to him after a hard-hot and dusty day at the mill turning wheat into
flour.
As
he passed the old church, Our Lady of Lourdes, he stopped to put a penny in the
offering plate, it was his way of saying thanks for getting him safely through
another shift, with all his fingers and toes in the right place.
Zeb dipped his fingers in the marble basin
with the holy water in it, and crossed himself like a good Catholic boy.
He
waited in the front alcove for a minute while a hard bit of wind passed
through. He took a couple of puffs on a Chesterfield and watched a long black
car roll down the Avenue until it stopped next door to the polka bar, at the
polonaise.
He
watched a tall-thin and strange looking man get out of the driver’s seat, go
around the back of car to open the door for the two ladies who had been riding
in the back.
They were too much in a hurry to get inside to
wait for the valet.
The
two women who emerged from the sedan looked like movie stars when they into the
lights under the canopy at Nye’s. They wore clear plastic raincoats that
gathered beads of water along the surface, each one shining like a diamond;
they appeared to be wearing little else underneath.
Zeb
felt his heart pounding like a man in love.
He walked toward them like he had a date with
destiny; they were going to the same establishment, if not the same place, and
he was mesmerized by their luster.
Zeb
was headed to the polka bar for some suds and a song.
The starlets were going for fancy cocktails at
the polonaise lounge. They went in along the red carpet, turning heads as they
entered the rom.
Zeb went in through the smaller door down at
the foot of the hill, but they would all be inside together.
He
almost walked right into them, and would have walked right in with them if the
ostrich like man they were with had not blocked his path and pushed him off.
Zeb
was dazzled, but the glamour began to fade as soon as the two beauties entered
the building and left his sight. He took the measure of the awkward looking fop
who stood in his way, knowing that he could have turned the guy into a pretzel
if he had wanted to…which he did not.
Instead,
Zeb shook his head like he was shaking the water from his hat, got his wits
about him and had himself a good laugh.
He
could hear the band playing, and he knew there would be a glass of beer waiting
for him on the table; when he got inside he raised it to his friends and they
all shouted hurrah!
Zeb didn’t know what they were cheering for, but
he joined along.
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