Nick's

I’ve written about a place called “Nick’s” before in a story I wrote called “The Groupie From Hell” but, last night, I was talking to my old playing partner Tony and was reminded of how I came to play at "Nick’s" so….I figured I’d share the tale with ya’ll.

The Story Begins

I had just moved up here after going through a divorce and I didn’t know anybody but honestly, I was in a “hermit” mode at the time. I had gotten burned out on living in Columbia and, quite frankly, I decided to completely change my life. My brother had also just gone through HIS second divorce so; we just decided to chuck everything and quite literally…..head to the hills!

My brother already had a girlfriend who made the move with us so; I was left to my own devices in the night life department. I didn’t know a living soul up here and really had no idea where I was going when I left the house that night but I headed for Banner Elk just for the hell of it.

I had visited the area a few times in the past but, not being a skier, I had never hung out near the ski resorts. Banner Elk, in the winter, is definitely a skier’s hangout but this was autumn and the place was a ghost town.

As I got to the intersection at the top of the mountain, I noticed a sign announcing “Nick’s Restaurant and Pub”. Having no other plans, I figured I would just pop in to check the place out.

I walked in and was immediately impressed with the place. The main room featured a wrap around bar about 60 feet long. The décor was simple but nice. There were musical instruments hung all over the bar and the lighting was good. There were maybe a dozen people at the bar and another dozen or so seated at tables in the main dining area.

Taking a seat at the bar closest to the door, I ordered a beer from the attractive blonde bar tender and eavesdropped on the conversation taking place three barstools away to the left of me.

Three guys were sitting there joking back and forth. I came to know them very well after that night.

Let me introduce them.

George…the owner. George was a small good looking fiftyish little guy with longish black hair. He had a way of handling himself that implied that he could be your best friend or he could shoot you in the ass if you pissed him off. He loved to laugh and always reminded me (still does) of a mischievous leprechaun. Most women loved him and the majority of men liked him as well.

Scotty…the manager. Scotty was about the same size as George. He was also his cousin and in his early thirties. Scotty was quick with a joke, equally quick with his fists and one of the most sarcastic little shits I’ve ever known.

John C.... John is one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. At the time I first met him, was a career college student who had been tossed out of several schools over the years only to finish up his so-called education at our local diploma mill, Lees McRae College or, as the locals called it, "L.M.C" (last motherfuckin' chance).

John still lived in his parents basement. His Dad was well to do and, at the time, he financed John’s existence. Ole John was very intelligent but spoke with a hilariously over done, exaggerated mountain accent and a twinkle in his eye. He looked like a cross between Jack Black and Jon Lovitz. A true character if I’ve ever known one.

As I sat there eavesdropping, John was raising hell.

“Fuck yuns both!” he said loudly.

“John, watch your gotdamned mouth!” George said. “Keep it down…there’s decent people in here.”

John leaned in close and whispered.

“Well pardon the hell out of my volume but I still say….Fuck yuns!” he hissed.

“Ok John, you tell us….when’s the last time you got laid?” Scotty asked.

“Yuns swar yuns won’t tell nobody?” he asked.

They both swore.

“I’ll be askin’ yuns for yer handshake on that pledge.” He said as he offered his hand which they both shook.

He leaned in, looking around as if to make sure no one was listening

“Boys, I got laid just last naht and son, I felt the fuckin’ earth move!” he grinned.

“Yeah, sure you did John…..what’s her name?” George scoffed.

“You boys just shook her.” He roared. “I ain't washed her yet either!” He laughed while waving his hand in front of their faces.

George and Scotty both looked at their right hands, stood up and went to the restroom without saying a word.

John laughed and looked at me. He had obviously seen that I had been listening.

I was laughing too.

“I got them smart assed sumbitches didn’t I?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess you did at that.” I answered.

He stepped over and introduced himself.

“Ahm John....nice to meet yuns." He said, offering his hand to me.

“I’m Ron.” I laughed as I looked warily at his outstretched hand. “You can put that nasty sumbitch away! I ain't shakin' it."

He acted shocked.

“I would normally punch you in the mouth but, yuns appear to be a fella what’s not to be trifled with!” He said with a wry grin.

“Well, if that means we ain’t gonna fight then, you’re right…I’m a bad friggin’ dude!” I laughed.

“Yuns just visitin’?” he asked.

“No, actually I just moved here recently, I live on Seven Devils.” I explained.

“Oh really, what yuns do to pay the bills?” he drawled.

“I’m a musician.”

“Where yuns playin’?” he asked.

“Well, I’m not playing anywhere right now.” I told him.

He gave that some thought and then said.

“That don’t sound like it pays very good.” He said. “Ah well….like I always say… fuck a bunch of bills!”

I was still laughing when George and Scotty came back.

“Boys….I want yuns to meet Ron…he’s a musician who don’t actually play no fuckin’ music!” he said.

I shook their hands and grinned.

“Is this silly sumbitch for real?” I asked, nodding at John.

“Oh yeah, he’s real alright.” Scotty growled. “He’s a real fucking moron.”

“Damn Scotty, there you go runnin’ down them poor old morons again.” George said.

Scotty looked me over and with a smirk on his face asked me.

“You play in a band?”

“No, I think I’m just gonna do a solo thing for awhile.” I told him. “Accoustic guitar stuff.”

“Do you sing too?” he asked, again with a smirk.

“No, I can’t carry a friggin’ tune on a serving tray but I do card tricks while I’m playing.” I said sarcastically.

“You don’t look like a muscian….you look like a fuckin’ linebacker.” George laughed.

“I did play football for awhile till I discovered that music’s a hell of a lot less painful.”

Scott looked dubious.

“Any sumbitch can say they’re a fuckin’ musician.” He snarled.

I laughed and looked at George.

“This little fucker’s a real charmer ain’t he?”

“Yeah, he’s a people person.” He laughed. "He fuckin' hates everybody!"

“Who you callin’ a little fucker?” Scotty demanded.

“You....unless of couse you're carryin' a gun.” I grinned.

“He ain’t carryin’ a gun dude but he IS a fuckin’ billion degree black belt in Karate.” George laughed.

Without missing a beat I said.

“You know….on second thought…you’re a lot bigger than you looked at first.” I laughed. "Yep....you're a Big sumbitch."

Scotty thought it over a second and smiled.

“I’m really not a black belt.” He said.

“Well, I’m not really a fighter……I’m allergic to pain.” I laughed.

After that, we sat there for an hour or so, talking shit and laughing. The recurring joke during that time was that I wasn’t really a musician. I laughed and shrugged off their barbs. Finally, George, who obviously had a buzz, spoke up.

“I don’t believe you can play a gotdamned radio much less a fuckin' guitar big boy!”

John jumped off his barstool and looked at me.

“Yuns has been called out!” he shouted dramatically. “Yuns has got to defend your honor 'new guy'….yuns gotta go get yuns guitar!”

These guys were nuts!

“He don’t even own a damned guitar!” Scotty prodded me.

I was still laughing when George, who I would later learn, would bet on ANYTHING, looked at me with a deadpan stare.

“I’ve got twenty bucks that says you can’t even play ‘Happy fuckin’ Birthday’ on a guitar.” He growled.

“I wouldn’t play ‘Happy Birthday’ for less than fifty bucks.” I joked.

He stood up, reached in his pocket and withdrew a fat wad of cash. He flipped through the bills for a second or two.

“Hell, all I’ve got is hundreds.” He proclaimed.

“I’ll take a hundred.” I said.

He thought about it for a second or two until John began making chicken sounds. After a few bars of ‘Bawk, Bawk, Bawk’ by John, Scotty joined the chorus. ''It sounded like a retarded chicken coop.

Finally, George had heard enough!

“Allright…let’s make it a hundred.” He snapped. “BUT…..these folks have gotta be the judge if you’re a fuckin’ real musician or not!” He swept his arm to encompass the sparse crowd.

“You’re on.” I said as I stood up and finished my beer.

Side Note: This was the time of year in the High Country when folks get BORED! The period between the summer influx and ski season is as dead as Abe Lincoln and George was just looking to liven things up. He could have cared less about listening to some dick head play music! Hell, I once saw him bet a guy a hundred bucks on which would walk through the front door next….a man or a woman.

I fished my keys out of my pocket and told him I’d be back in twenty minutes. Then I called to the bartender, Shelley, so I could pay my tab.

George laughed.

“See there!!!” he yelled. “We ain’t never gonna see this lyin' fucker again!”

“I’ll be back George…I don’t have any beer at home!” I laughed.

“Yuns better come back my man….yuns honor is at stake!” John proclaimed. "This here's a small town. Yuns ain't gonna be able to show yuns face if you back out now!"

I went home, got my guitar and was back in less than twenty minutes.

As I walked into the bar, John stood up and welcomed me.

“I KNEW you had a fuckin’ git-fiddle!” he shouted. “BUT…..ladies and gentleman…can he play that sumbitch?”

People were laughing at his antics as I put my guitar down on the bar and opened the case.

“I’m gonna play one of my favorite songs…ya’ll oughta really like this one.” I declared.

I pulled the guitar out and checked the tuning. Once I was sure that it was way out of tune, I started playing a deliberately horrible rendition of ‘Tequila Sunrise’ complete with butchered chords, bad timing and forgotten lyrics.

As I played, I could see that even though they were true smartasses, they were really way too nice to react unfavorably and embarrass me. I could see them exchanging looks between themselves which clearly implied that they wished I would shut the hell up and SOON! Hell, they were embarassed FOR me!

When I finished, believe or not, there was a smattering of polite applause from what had to be a group of tone deaf people but not from George and the boys. I could tell that no one wanted to say anything at all.

They just wanted me to stop playing.

I couldn’t resist.

“See, I told you I could play!” I grinned at George. “Where’s my money?”

George shifted on his barstool uncomfortably and just sat there with a blank look on his face. His jaw was damn near hitting the bar.

You could have heard a pin drop in the place.

I was laughing my ass off inside.

I looked at John for approval.

He buried his face in his hands not saying a word.

I looked expectantly at Scotty but, he just hung his head but said nothing.

It was hard to keep a straight face.

“Ok, Ok, I guess ya’ll want to hear some more.” I said eagerly.

I could tell they were panicking at the thought of hearing another train wreck but again, they couldn’t bring themselves to insult me. As I waited for someone to say something, I re-tuned the guitar.

Once done, I started playing “A Little Detour” by Leroy Parnell....this time for real.

One by one the three amigos heads came popping up and smiles crossed there faces. They began to realize that I had sandbagged them.

When I finished, the place broke into applause and George was grinning from ear to ear as he slapped the hundred bucks on the bar.

“You’re a sneaky mutherfucker ain’t you?” he laughed. “You got anymore?”

Just then, John walked over and draped his arm around my shoulders.

“Mah client has ast me to negotiate on his behalf.” He said. “This here feller is a friggin’ sensitve arteest, not a bidness man!”

“John, sit the fuck down and shut up.” George growled. “Unless of course, you would rather negotiate your past due bar tab?”

John looked at me and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

“Sorry dude, yuns is on your own.” He said. “A man’s gotta have his priorties straight and mah tab is woefully in arrears!”

To Be Continued Tomorrow.....