Written for OLWG #50
Sam pushed the door into the smoky darkness of the bar. He stepped inside and paused to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. There were two pool tables to his right and a long dark-wood bar running the length of the room to his left. There were a lot of empty stools at the bar and two empty booths at the back, beyond the pool tables.
A heavyset man needing a shave, wearing a rumpled beige raincoat sat at the end of the bar with his back turned in Sam’s direction. He nursed a drink that might have been Gin and Tonic or it might have been Seltzer water. He glanced over his shoulder at the newcomer and then turned his attention back to his glass.
A brunette girl with long legs and a short skirt stood on the near pool table with her eyes closed. Her arms wrapped around her torso pushing her breasts upwards and creating an effect like one of those bras they sell on late night TV infomercials. Stiletto heels graced her feet and she swayed to a music that only she could hear.
Sam made his way inside and took a stool about halfway down the bar. He signaled the barman, who ambled down; in no hurry.
“What’ll it be, pal?” the barman asked as he approached.
“Boilermaker,” Sam answered, “no, no; better make it a double.”
The barman simply nodded, flicked the ash from his cigarette and turned back in the direction from whence he had come. He came back and put two shots of whisky on the bar then he pulled caramel coloured beer from the tap and set it down behind the whisky.
“Spose you want a tab?”
Sam nodded, “I want her phone number too.” He jerked his thumb towards the girl.
The barman curled his upper lip in a sneer, “Get in line, pal.” he said and walked back down to where his ash tray waited patiently.
Sam knocked back the first shot and a long draught of the beer; he reached for the photo from his jacket pocket and studied it for a while. He spun around on his bar stool and studied the girl dancing on the pool table then looked back at the photo he held in his hand. When he returned the photo to his jacket pocket he brought out a rumpled package of Lucky Strikes. The cigarette had to be straightened and a matchbook had to be pilfered from the bar. Sam tapped the end of his smoke on the bar and struck a match, with the flame at the tip of the fag he drew the smoke deep and watched the fire burn close to his fingers before he dropped it into the ash tray that sat on the bar.
There was no doubt about it. She was one of them. Sam had a piece tucked into the small of his back. He wasn’t sure about the bar tender or the big guy. He’d have to keep an eye on them when he took down the girl. Just in case, you know, just in case they got protective.
This week, the prompts were:
- She’s one of them
- your journey is your own
- Double jeopardy
Don’t think! Write!
You have 25 minutes but if it takes longer – just don’t tell anyone.