“Let’s do it,” he said as he opened the door.
Garland’s had a long oval-shaped bar that bisected the club right down the middle. Tables and booths filled the club on the left side of the bar. On the right were blue and red velvet love seats and beanbags. Up and down the exposed redbrick walls black-and-white pictures of Judy Garland in full Wizard of Oz regalia competed with color photos of Judy Garland in early twentieth-century garb from Meet Me in St. Louis. A large flat-screen television above the bar was playing Judy Garland singing “Over the Rainbow” on top of a techno beat. A few men were sitting at the bar. When Ike and Buddy Lee came in, two Black men sitting at the bottom of the oval snapped their heads up, appraised them, then quickly lowered their heads again. To their right, three women—two Black, one white—were squeezed into one of the love seats. Ike and Buddy Lee plopped down on a couple of stools at the end of the bar.
Ike took a quick look over each shoulder and scanned the bar. A group of clean-cut older white men sat in one of the booths with a tray of shot glasses in front of them. They raised their glasses and one of the men yelled out a toast.
“Cheers, queers!” the man said as he and his companions downed their shots. They collapsed against each other amid a chorus of laughs. Ike put his head on a swivel. Two more young white men were holding hands at one of the tables behind him. The three women in the love seat were running their hands through each other’s hair.
Ike gripped the edge of the bar.
“I think this is a gay bar,” he whispered.
“What?” Buddy Lee asked. He was squinting at the shelf of liquor bottles like a penitent who had just glimpsed heaven. Ike leaned over and put his mouth near Buddy Lee’s ear.
“I think this is a gay bar,” Ike said.
Buddy Lee spun around on his barstool. After one complete revolution he stopped and leaned toward Ike.
“Well, shit, I guess that makes sense. I ain’t never been in a gay bar before. But it looks like they serve bourbon, so I guess it’ll be alright,” Buddy Lee said.
“Let’s just ask the bartender if he knows Tangerine or the boys,” Ike said. His breath was coming in short harsh bursts.
“Alright. You okay? You breathing like you running uphill backward,” Buddy Lee said.
“I’m fine. Let’s just do it,” Ike said. Buddy Lee held up two fingers and waved at the bartender. After dropping off a pair of martinis to the two brothers at the end of the bar, he came over to Ike and Buddy Lee. He was a short Asian man with long coal-black hair that spilled over his well-defined shoulders. Ike thought his white T-shirt was three sizes too small.
“Hey, gents, what can I do ya for?” the bartender asked.
“I’ll have a Coors and a shot of Jack Daniel’s,” Buddy Lee said.
“I just want a water,” Ike said.
“Gotcha. You guys need any menus?”
“No,” Ike said before Buddy Lee could respond. A few minutes later, the bartender, who told them his name was Tex, brought them their drinks.
“Anything else for you guys?” Tex asked with a smile. Buddy Lee gave Ike a curt nod as he downed his whiskey.
“Yeah. Let me ask you something. Did you know some guys named Isiah and Derek? I think they might’ve hung out here from time to time,” Ike said. Tex’s smile faltered a bit.
“Yeah, I knew them. They were good guys. They used to come out for our Blacklight Night. Derek used to make us pierogies for our monthly Paint Night. Isiah wrote an article about us for his website. They were really good guys. I can’t believe what happened to them. It’s bullshit, man,” Tex said. Ike felt a lump rise in his throat like a whale breaching.
“Yeah, it was bullshit,” Ike said.
“Were you guys friends of theirs or something?” Tex asked.
“They was our sons,” Buddy Lee said. He took a long swig off of his beer.
“Aw, man. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, dudes.”
“Thanks,” Ike said.
Tex pulled a white rag out of his pocket and wiped the bar down in front of Ike and Buddy Lee. One of the three women from the love seat squealed with pleasure or surprise. Or both.
“I gotta ask, what are you guys doing here? Isiah used to say…” Tex cut himself off.
“What did Isiah used to say?” Ike said, knowing full well what his son probably said.
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I just was wondering why you guys were here, that’s all.”
“We trying to find somebody who might know something about what happened to them,” Buddy Lee said. He killed his beer.