She hit him as hard as she could, putting every inch and every ounce of the pain and the rage and the sadness not ever really being able to help Jack ...moldered in her. She felt a momentary, savage joy when the young punk’s nose erupted a geyser of blood. She had never been able to do what she felt was enough to help Jack. No one in town really could. Jack’s mom didn’t abuse Jack. She was just guilty of not really taking care of him as good as she should have, could have. She fed him and clothed. “Do you want the regular?”“Yes please.”“OK, one Captain Morgan and Mr. Pibb coming up.”She turned, grabbed an icy pint glass out of the stand-up cooler and started making a tall drink.“Here you go, Paul. You pay for the single and I will cover the double! Should I start a tab?”“Yes, please and thank you very much.”I have always been a good tipper for good service. I also have been known to leave no tip at all for bad service. My first time in this bar, I had tipped almost 50% because I loved. More

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