Totawka Brewery

Totawka Brewery

The Totawka Brewery was a dark, noisy barn of a place, with sawdust covering the old wooden floorboards and the rich smells of hops, mesquite and whiskey mingling in the air. A vaguely country-western band was playing at a volume that made conversation nearly impossible.

A hopeful, anticipatory mood engulfed Scout as she looked around. This was the kind of place they used to try to sneak into with their fake ID’s when they were teenagers. In fact, she had the strangest feeling she might actually have gotten in here once or twice, back then. Only then of course, it wouldn’t have been a microbrewery.

"Well?" Marsha shouted in her ear. "What do you think?"

Scout beamed back at her approvingly, and sneaked a glance at Lucy. She too was looking around with an expression of grudging enjoyment on her face. Their gazes met, Lucy shrugged and rolled her eyes, but for once she wasn’t scowling.

"That’s better," Marsha shouted, approvingly. "C’mon, you two. Let’s get a table. I’m starving."

"Marsha, I don’t know why you wanted to drag us all the way out here," Lucy told her, when they were seated at a booth in the slightly quieter back room and the waitress had taken their drink order. "It’s a hell of a funny place for a vegetarian to pick, that’s all I can say."

"Are you both vegetarians, now?" Scout asked, a little nervously. She’d been thinking of ordering a steak, but she was already feeling wrung out from her unexpected meeting with Nick. If it meant taking more grief from Lucy, she’d be happy to take a pass on the beef.

"No," Lucy said shortly. "Just her."

"Order whatever you want, Scout," Marsha said reassuringly. "I don’t claim any sort of moral superiority. It’s just a personal choice."

"She’s been like this since her accident," Lucy said, sighing a little as she twirled her fork between her fingers. "I think she had some kinda hallucination about a cow or something while she was in her coma. Or maybe it was a chicken."

"Lucy. It wasn’t a cow or a chicken," Marsha replied with some asperity. "And it wasn’t an hallucination, either. It was a vision. A profound spiritual experience which brought me face to face with my personal guardian. My Power Animal. And as I’ve told you many times before, I have no intention of revealing exactly what form she took. So quit fishing."

"Ahh. A fish, huh? Was that it?"

Marsha smiled. "You’ll never know. Anyway, I like this place, you know? It’s got great energy. And for your information they make killer nachos."

"Well I’m going to have the whiskey-mesquite ribs and a side of fried green tomatoes. As usual," Lucy announced closing her menu emphatically. She hesitated a moment and then, rather reluctantly it seemed, she turned to Scout and inquired politely. "So, uh, what are you thinking of having, Scout?"

"I thought . . . maybe a steak?"

"Uh, huh. That sounds good. Sirloin or porterhouse?"

"The ten ounce sirloin with the burgundy onions," Scout told her. "And maybe some garlic fries."

Lucy nodded. "Oh, yeah, I love those. And, you know, the fried baby artichokes are very nice, too."

"Mmm. I haven’t had any of those in years. How are the salads here, by the way?"

Lucy appeared to consider the matter for several minutes. "Well, the Caesar is nice, but the Cobb salad is pretty boring, and I haven’t tried the spinach salad yet. Maybe Marsha could tell you."

"Christ," Marsha muttered. Their drinks had arrived and she took a long sip from her margarita. "I know I said you guys should be civil to each other, but you’re both being so damn sweet it’s making my teeth hurt. You’re also boring me to tears. Can’t you relax a little bit? We’re here to have fun, remember?"

"I don’t know Marsha," Scout said. "Having fun was your idea. I’m not sure Lucy and I are really up to having fun together yet."

"Yeah, if ever," Lucy chimed in. "This might be as good as it gets.

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