Bingo Dave – Week 3
Dave had been in charge of Wednesday Night Bingo for nearly five years, and was well-liked by all the regulars, men and women alike. The men admired his brief, but successful career on the MMA circuit down East and women liked him for his gentle and jovial manner. He knew most of the players by name, and they all knew him as Bingo Dave. He was not handsome by any measure, but not homely either. Dave’s light colored hair was always trimmed as close to the scalp as possible, a style carried over from his fighting days; he looked like a Mr. Clean devotee.
His smile could charm anyone, which was a good thing because the MMA battle scars on his face made him a bit scary looking. Dave was single, twenty-eight years old, never married, tall but no giant, trim and well-muscled, but no Schwarzenegger, and one heck of a nice guy, all attributes that made him a good catch. A few women in the hall that evening had hopes along those lines, but Dave had a strict no fraternizing with the players’ policy, so those hopes were just fantasies, and they knew it.
Pointing to the poster of a bingo card on the wall behind him to ensure everyone understood the winning pattern for this game, he said, “Okay ladies and gents, It’s time for the final game of the evening. The first one to make an X, which is also surrounded by marks at all four compass points, North (N1), South (N5), East (B3), and West (O3) wins the fifty/fifty jackpot of the evening, $625.00.”
A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd as soon as he finished his patter. Except for sounds of game cards being organized, markers set up, personal talisman and various other good luck charms being placed on the table, and chairs moved into optimum position for stamping game cards, the Bingo Hall went silent in anticipation of the possibility of a big win. When he sensed all were ready for the game to begin, Dave signaled the caller, Aimee Sweet, to activate the machine that blew 75 numbered Ping-Pong balls around inside a chamber. She read the numbers one by one as balls fell from the chute at the front of the machine.
As the cards began to fill with Bingo Stamper marks, Aimee asked, “How many of you need four or fewer numbers to complete the game pattern?” A few players raised their hands, and you could read the excitement on their faces. She called a few more numbers, then asked, “How many need only one or two numbers to complete the game?” Three hands went up. As Aimee continued to call numbers, all eyes in the room were on the three lucky players remaining in the game. When the number called was, “O-71,” two hands shot up simultaneously with shouts of “Bingo.”
“You two come on up and let’s check those cards,” said Dave, sounding a bit like the host of a game show. Grace Winston and Henrietta Van Loon approached Dave’s table with their cards. Aimee helped him check the marked squares against the numbers drawn, and declared, “We have a tie tonight, so Grace and Henrietta each take home $312.50, congratulations ladies. Let’s have a cheer for our big winners.” After the cheers had died down, he said, “Thanks for coming out this evening. The profits from tonight’s games are shared between the CSSS Jazz Band Parent Auxiliary and the Booth Home for Homeless Youth. Thanks again, see you next Wednesday.”
The room filled with the sounds of cleaning up spent game cards, stowing away those all-important good luck pieces, and chairs being moved around and pushed carefully under the long tables set parallel to Dave’s desk. Everyone said thanks and good night to Dave and Aimee on the way out, and the hall went quiet.
Aimee was twenty-six and a single mom. She used to be a player but liked the look of Dave and asked if she could volunteer as Caller so he could focus on the money end of things. What she didn’t say, but thought was, “Then I can focus on you.”
Dave thought, “She’s no looker, but she’s not a plain Jane either, and goodness knows, I’m not much of a prize.” He weighed the possibilities of a relationship with Aimee along with the benefits of having some help in the hall and accepted her offer, which had been one of his smarter choices in life.
Dave asked, “Would you like to go to The Roadhouse for a burger and a beer? Treat’s on me.”
Her pulse and breathing increased slightly in anticipation of dinner with him, and what might happen after dinner. Aimee agreed without much hesitation, explaining, “All I have to do is call the babysitter and let her know I will be a little late this evening.”
“Fantastic, let’s go.”
Dave and Aimee walked to The Roadhouse, entered the pub and sat at a small table near the back of the room. Dave went over to the bar, ordered two Grandville Island Nat Bailey’s and a couple of Roadhouse Cheeseburgers, carried the beers and an order number back to the table and got comfortable. Aimee and Dave held hands, clinked glasses, and toasted, “Here’s to us,” then smiled. However, their smiles evaporated quickly when they heard a bellow coming from across the room, “Whaddya knows if it isn’t that f—ing Bingo Dave and his bingo b—-.”
Dave turned around to see a very well lubricated Dalton Millen standing up from his chair at a table across the room and staggering over toward them. He knew what was coming next. Dalton was a decent guy when he wasn’t drunk, but not so nice when he was sauced, and tonight he was sauced up pretty good.
Dalton and Dave had known each other since high school, and even chummed around a bit, but Dalton was jealous of him, and their friendship ended during a high school Christmas Dance in their senior year after a senseless brawl that hadn’t ended well for either of them. They fought because a girl that Dalton was after liked Dave more. It wasn’t the first time they argued over a girl since Dalton always seemed to be attracted to the same girls that were attracted to Dave
The arguments had always been shouting matches before that night, but Dalton just couldn’t take it anymore, so he decided to make it physical. The girl who was the focus of their argument was so disgusted with both boys, she turned and left the fight scene in a fury, and the teachers supervising the dance stopped the fight. Although the boys were athletes, and physically strong, Dave’s wrestling skills easily overcame Dalton’s soccer prowess. Dave and Dalton were sent home, each of them receiving a two-day suspension for fighting at a school event. They laughed the whole thing off when they saw each other at school later in the week.
The fight was years ago, but Dalton often got fired up over past issues whenever he had too much to drink. This was one of those nights, and Dave was the target. As Dalton approached, Dave said, “Come on man, you don’t want to do anything silly, do you.” Not in the condition to listen to anyone, let alone the object of his anger, Dalton kept advancing slowly, already unsteady on his feet. Dave stood to his full height of five feet eleven inches, a shade shorter than Dalton when he was sober and standing erect.
“Bingo Dave, what a fag name that is. Bingo Dave is such a fag and still gets all the girls. Who’s the little honey pot with you tonight, Dave? Oh s—, if it isn’t that single mom, Aimee Sweet. You couldn’t hold on to a husband, Aimee, so you go after this fag. You must be desperate for some loven babe. I’m better than that fag will ever be. Why doncha come home with me for some real fun, Sweet.”
Aimee shrank back in fear and withdrew to the corner behind her chair as Dave placed himself directly in Dalton’s path.
Dave knew that Dalton hadn’t been the same since his parents were killed in a freak automobile accident a few years back. There was even talk that the car’s brakes had been sabotaged, but that was just a rumor.
He could see what was coming, so he prepared to place Dalton in a submission hold if he attacked. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the guy, and Dave definitely did not want to give him another grudge to add to his collection. He even felt sorry for him in a way. It couldn’t have been easy, being an older brother, and taking on the role of father and mother for his brother and sister when he was only nineteen.
Dave quietly said, “Dalton, why don’t you just calm down and go back to your table. You frightened Aimee and said some very rude things,” but he just kept on coming toward them. Calum Millen ran over and tried to restrain his older brother, but he swatted him away. Dalton tried to side step Dave, but the ex-MMA fighter just danced over into his path again. Dave didn’t make a move, his strict moral code was to never strike a civilian first and wait for the attack.
“Dalton, come on man, you and I both know what is about to happen if you try anything, so why don’t you just stop right there before anything happens.” Dalton wasn’t capable of listening or reasoning in his current state and attempted to push Dave out of the way. That was all Dave needed to take action, and before Dalton knew what happened, he was in a painful submission hold, arm twisted, and wrist bent with just enough pressure to make things very unpleasant. His response to the situation surprised Dave, and everyone watching.
Dalton just broke down and cried. He melted to the floor, a pathetic crying drunk. He was trying to say something, but nothing could penetrate what can only be described as blubbering. Dave eased up on his hold and helped Dalton to his feet. Calum had recovered from his stumble after being pushed, and he helped Dave get his brother out of the Roadhouse and loading a sobbing, drunk Dalton into the back of the Millen’s car. Calum hopped into the driver’s seat, started the car, rolled down the window, and thanked Dave as he drove off.
By the time Dave returned to their table, Aimee was back in her seat, nursing her beer, and clearly a bit upset by the incident.
“Are you okay Aimee?”
“Yes, but it was frightening. Dalton’s language was rude and very threatening. I felt like he wanted to hurt me if he could.”
“Look, Aimee, he was drunk. Dalton didn’t mean anything by it. He’s just haunted by the ghosts of his past, and sometimes they get the better of him. His parents were killed in an accident, but worse than that, the car caught fire, and their bodies were burnt beyond recognition. I heard he had to identify the car and try to identify the bodies. I think poor old Dalton suffers from PTSD that comes out when he drinks. Fortunately, I can handle him, but someone else might have really hurt him. Calum, his brother, should keep a tighter leash on him if he can. One of these days, he’s going to go after the wrong kind of person and get badly hurt.”
“Dave, you were so careful not to hurt him, then you helped him to stand, and helped his brother take him out of the pub. You probably helped to load him in the car too. You are one special guy Dave Beaton.”
Dave was smiling again and sat back listening to her talk. Their burgers arrived, he asked for ketchup and some malt vinegar, and the two went on talking about the night at the Bingo Hall, her kids, and what she thought the kids would think of him now that they were in a relationship. After a few minutes, the incident with Dalton Millen was nothing more than just a small bump in the road. Aimee went back to thinking about what might happen when Dave took her home after dinner. She was hopeful.
