Bernie the plumber (6)

Bernie’s wife paced near the bar, two tables from where Bernie was playing. He was acting crazy, out of control – he’d bought five thousand dollars worth of chips, using his credit card. It was money they didn’t have, money they’d have trouble repaying, given the economy.

What really bothered her was the look on his face. She’d seen him look that way only once before. It was years ago, but she remembered it vividly, as if it were acid-etched in her brain.

Someone had backed into their car and not stopped. Bernie chased him down, cutting other cars off, even going up on a curb before finally cornering the driver at a light. Bernie jumped out and pounded on the windshield, screaming at the man, who stayed put until the police came.

Bernie was the one who was almost arrested.

She looked across the room at him now. He was going to play all night. He was going to lose all their money.

And more than that.

“Excuse me,” she said to the bartender. “Who’s in charge here? I mean, really in charge?”

(more to come)