Chapter 144: Bar Brawl
"If you go to hell and I go to heaven, that'll be tragic. We won't be able to drink together anymore," Eric joked.
"Get out of here. You'll be joining me in hell. No decent person ends up in heaven," Frank replied.
"Hey, I'm a decent person," Eric protested.
"Yeah, right. You look like the type of professor who sneaks peeks at female students during class," Frank teased.
"You're insulting my honor. I challenge you to a duel," Eric declared.
"A duel it is. Let me tell you a secret—I've seen demons, real ones. I even fought them and sent them back to hell. If demons couldn't beat me, what makes you think you can?" Frank boasted, his voice loud despite trying to whisper, his words slurred from the alcohol.
"Ha! You've seen demons? Well, I've met Thor," Eric mocked.
"I'm serious!" Frank insisted, frustrated by Eric's disbelief.
"Hey, you two drunks! If you're going to act crazy, take it outside!" Their noisy banter annoyed a nearby table, prompting a man in his thirties to stand up.
"We're just having a conversation, none of your business. This is a bar, not a café. Are you drinking beer or juice, kid?" Frank retorted, flipping him off.
Alcohol makes people bold, and in a bar, losing face leads to fights. Seeing Frank's provocation, the three men at the table stood up, creating a tense standoff.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" The bar crowd gathered around, clearing space for a potential fight.
"Hey, can you still throw a punch?" Frank asked Eric.
"I'm not that old. I never got beaten down in a bar in my youth," Eric said, wobbling to his feet.
Before Eric could finish, one of the men punched him, landing a blow on his face.
With a crash, Eric staggered back, knocking over tables and chairs, spilling drinks and breaking glasses, barely steadying himself against the bar.
"Sneak attack, huh? Didn't your dad teach you how to brawl in a bar?" Eric, showing his grit, tackled two of the men.
As the third man raised his foot to kick Eric, Frank delivered a swift kick to his groin from behind.
"Oof!" The man clutched his groin, collapsing in pain, drenched in sweat.
"Yoo~" The spectators, expecting a clean fight, jeered at Frank's low blow, thumbs down in disapproval.
Frank didn't care, targeting his opponents' weak spots, leaving the other two clutching their groins as well.
"You okay?" Frank asked, helping the bruised and battered Eric up.
"Spit! I'm fine. This is nothing," Eric said, spitting out blood.
"Drinks on us for the next round!" Frank declared victoriously.
"Ooh yeah!!!" The crowd cheered.
"Hey, are you really buying drinks for everyone?" Eric asked, concerned about the cost.
"Of course not. Let's get out of here," Frank said, supporting Eric as they slipped out of the bar in the commotion.
"Hahaha!" They burst into laughter once outside.
"This is the most fun I've had in months, Frank. You're a true friend—ugh!" Eric said, suddenly leaning against the wall to vomit.
"You can't handle your liquor, huh? We barely drank," Frank teased.
"I'm off my game today. Next time, I'll drink you under the table—ugh!" Eric said, vomiting again.
Frank waited as Eric finished, then helped him toward his car, planning to head home. But he fumbled with the key, unable to unlock the door.
"Hahaha, you're drunk too. That's a rock, not your car!" Eric laughed.
"Why don't you stay at my place tonight?" Eric suggested, leading Frank to where he lived.
After a couple of blocks, they reached a large RV.
"Open up, Jane!" Eric called out.
"Eric, what happened to your face?" A model-like blonde opened the door, shocked at Eric's appearance.
"Nothing much, made a new friend, got into a bar fight, took down three guys myself," Eric said as he and Frank helped each other into the RV.
"If it weren't for me, you'd be flat on your back," Frank argued as they lay on the bed, bickering until they fell asleep, the RV filled with the stench of alcohol.
Jane shook her head at the sight of the two, covering her nose as she left the RV to sleep at a nearby hotel with friends.
"Where am I?" Frank wondered upon waking up, staring at the RV's ceiling for a moment, trying to piece things together. He'd blacked out again.
"Damn, I promised just one drink," Frank regretted.
"Hey, who are you?" Frank felt a heavy weight on his chest and looked down to see a scruffy, drooling man sprawled over him.
Frank pushed Eric off, grimacing in disgust.
"The smell of vomit and drool," Frank muttered, using the bed's blanket to wipe himself off.
"You awake?" Frank stepped out of the RV and saw a makeshift canopy outside, where two girls sat—one reading a book, the other on a computer. They both looked up as Frank opened the door.
Frank glanced at Jane, the blonde, then at the other girl, whose presence captivated him.
Though not as pretty as Jane, the brunette had a stunning figure, especially her chest, which was natural, not enhanced, as Frank's experienced eye could tell.
"Sorry, I like muscular, handsome guys, not leering middle-aged men. I don't have a daddy complex," the brunette said, covering her chest and blocking her neckline.
"Uh, sorry," Frank apologized, realizing his impropriety.
The girl's age reminded him of his daughter, making his behavior all the more embarrassing.
But Frank couldn't help it; men are drawn to beauty—big lights, long legs, stockings. No matter the age, a few glances are inevitable.
"It's fine, I'm used to it. No one can resist their allure," the girl said, not offended, even puffing out her chest with a hint of pride.
(End of Chapter)