He sauntered on into the place. A little Irishman turned away from the bar and hissed at him as he passed.
"Watch it, Bucko."
Tesno nodded at the man, who looked vaguely familiar. So I walked into it, he thought. They set me up, and I walked into it. It would be a fight, he guessed. Otherwise the crowd wouldn't know, wouldn't be waiting for a show. Some hired tough had been bragging himself up to it, probably, mouthing off about some pretended grudge.
Men made a place for him at the bar, and he took it. Pinky Bronklin slid up and laid his pincerlike hand on the wood. He looked downright cheerful.
"Man named Warren asked me to meet him here," Tesno said. "You know him?"
Pinky shook his head. The white scar glistened on his flushed face. "You want a drink?"
"I'll have a cigar."
Pinky moved away. Tesno turned casually away from the bar. A huge blond man with a broken nose got up from a table and swaggered toward the bar. Tesno made room for him but still got an elbow in the ribs. The man was half a head taller than Tesno's six feet, outweighed him by forty pounds.
Silence clamped the room now. Even the piano had stopped. Pinky came up with a box of cigars. Tesno took five, laid a quarter on the bar.
"Beer," the big man said. He turned to Tesno, looked him over, grinned. There was a tooth missing from the grin.