Mark felt the warmth of the whisky in his hand and took another sip. It was strong enough to warm him out of the cold night, but he didn't mind that. A lot of other bottles in the pocket were just as potent, he knew. He thought that the man with the bottle of whiskey stood behind the cash register in the speakeasy [pg 1] waiting for him to scoop out the money. "I'll take it," the older man said, holding out a roll of bills.
"You know it's illegal to buy liquor, don't you?" Mark asked sarcastically, shaking his head, his thumb and forefinger holding a handful of bills out. As much as he had been in a good mood, he couldn't resist taking a shot at people who were just as bad as he was.
"I was told."
"Well, you have your orders from the boss," Mark grinned. "You should know that."
"I don't like the boss," the man said without a hint of humor in his voice. "Do you like your work?" the man asked. "Wouldn't you like to quit?" he said.
"It won't happen," Mark said. "You know it won't. Of course, things can change. But right now, I'm a happy man."
"Is that so?" the man asked.
"Oh, yes," Mark said. "I get money, I get to see a good looking lady every night, and I have my little store where I sell a little bootleg bottle of not-too-gross-but-not-too-good Canadian whiskey and other alcohol products — including hard liquor. I get to run my little store, shut up my brain, and just unwind. I have great customers, some I like, some I don't. There are none I can't say no to, you know that. I have the necessary supplies and raw materials to make it happen, if I wanted to try. I don't like a lot of things about this life, but I love what I have right now."
"I have heard the same things," the man said. "I have been in your position."
"Why else would you be here?"
"To see you," the man said. "By the way, I'm curious… Do you think I need some kind of protection?"
"Protection? What do you mean?"
"I mean, I'm not good with a gun, and I have a few friends who would like to have a talk with me — a little conversation."
Mark took a quick look around. It was late, there were very few customers in the speakeasy, and even fewer that he needed to watch out for. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be careful. "Why don't you answer some questions?" he asked.
"I'm listening," the man said.
"I don't know what you're in for, but do you think that your problems are going to be an issue for me?"
"I hope not," the man said. "In a week, I'm leaving for another life in another business; I'm going to be selling things to people entirely different than those who buy what I'm selling now. It's not a game. I'm not a boss either; I'm not like you."
"I see," Mark said, taking a sip of the drink.
"Do you really think someone will try to bust in here and hurt me?"
"I think that it is unlikely," Mark said, putting the drink on the counter and looking into the man's face. "But if anyone does, he'll regret it. Just don't do anything to start a fight around here. If someone does try to hurt you, take out your wallet and give him your money and card. That's what I'd do for you, anyway."
Mark saw a flicker of fear in the man's eyes. "Well, thanks for the warning," the man said. "I forgot to ask who you are."
"Mark," he said, extending a handshake. "My name is Mark."
"Nice to meet you, Mark," the man said, shaking his hand. "It's good to know that there are some who have your welfare in mind. Right now, I'm wondering when I can pay you back for the safety you offer."
"I don't need it all the time," Mark said, moving to the other end of the bar. "But I can give you this bottle. And I'm sure that someone will bring some money by tomorrow. I'd like for you to take that instead of giving away more of your cash."
"That's fine, I'll take it," the man said, and Mark walked over to the corner where the bottles were kept. The man picked up the bottle and carefully took out the cap. "You sure you don't want it?" he asked.
"I'm sure," Mark said. "But I can drink another one of these," he said and put the bottle in his pocket. "I'm not missing a chance to drink."
"I understand," the man said. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night."
"Good night," Mark said.
The next morning, the stress and nerves that had been keeping Mark up all night finally settled, and he woke with a headache, a splitting headache. He walked to the table and poured himself a glass of water and then sighed, walking to his bedroom. He took off his clothes and pulled on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. He sat at the table and drank the glass of water and refreshed himself as he took his breakfast.
The door opened, and he looked over. Another man was walking in, a man he knew well, the man who was waiting behind the bar the day before. He walked over the bar and put money on the counter. "Mark," he said.
"You're alive! I was worried I'd killed you," Mark said as a joke.
"That was a rough night. It messed my brain up a little," the man said, looking at Mark. "I'm here to pay you back for any trouble I may have caused you." Mark looked at him curiously.
"What happened? Did someone come here and make scene?"
"No, nothing like that."
"Then what was all that about?"
"I don't have to say much," the man said. "I'm paying as a gesture that I appreciate your gesture. It's best not to dwell."
"Of course," Mark said. "No need to say anything else. Take this money and put it some good use."
"I will," the man said, as he walked of the bar.
When he opened the door, Mark saw Ruth walking towards the bar, almost skidding on the windows. She looked priceless and beautiful as ever. She walked in, looked at Mark and smiled. "Ready for more, my dear?" she asked.
Mark smiled. "I am, if you are," he said.
"I'm always ready for more," Ruth smiled, sitting down and leaning on the counter. "My night has been so full."
"That's good," Mark said. "You're not tired? Let me get you a drink and something to eat."
"I'm always awake for more," Ruth teased. She winked at Mark as he walked away, knowing that he was going to get the ingredients for the breakfast cocktail. He walked through the store, pulled the stool out, took a drink glass and the ingredients for the breakfast cocktail and went back to the bar.
Mark set up the ingredients and added the drink ingredients, stirring it up until it was all mixed up, taking out the glass and two shots of the drink and putting it on the bar. Ruth saw him doing it, and he smiled as he looked at her.
"Here's your brand new breakfast shot, one for you and one for me," he said, pouring it out. Ruth picked up hers, and he did too. "A toast," Mark said. "To another good day and another good drink."
Ruth grinned. "To new friends," she said. They drank up, and Mark saw the way Ruth looked at him. He wasn't sure if it was something more than friendliness but didn't read too much into it.
"Everything all right?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm fine. It's just that I'm thinking." She looked away from him and then looked back at him. "It occurred to me how much I like you. I know it's impossible for us to get together. I was wondering how you all feel about that."
"It's complicated and causing tension but doesn't make sense for him to come to me about it. I'm my own boss, and he knows that. But let's not talk about it anymore, there is no way we can be together. I know that better than anyone else."
"Maybe it is just a lot of pressure on you. Now that I'm thinking about it, it's not in your character to do something like what he is implying. I'm sure that looking at it with a clear mind, you understand how just having a casual connection with you is good enough for all of us."
Mark smiled. "Thanks for the good thoughts."
"I'm always here to listen," she said. "I'm here for you and your friends. You can always talk to me about everything. Don't forget about that."
"I won't," Mark said. "Let's have some more food at the table. I can start a new pot of coffee if you like."
"Oh, that sounds good!" Ruth said. "I would love to have some more specially if it's something warm and delicious. Tell me more about yourself, Mark. I want to know more about you."
"To the table," Mark said.
He walked to the stove, put it on and got started on the pot of coffee. He poured the hot water in and waited, rummaging through the food and getting his plate ready. Back in the bar, he saw Ruth sitting and waiting for him to come over. He walked over and put his plate on the table and poured himself a cup of coffee. "It's warming up and it will be ready shortly," he said.
Ruth smiled. "You are a gentleman, a real gentleman," she teased. "Yes, I had a very good night, there is nothing wrong with it. There is so much to share with you. For the rest of the time, I'll be your location for relaxation, the place where you can have those chats with your friends, your place to have fun and enjoy yourself, your nice cozy place to be."
Mark walked over to her, looking at her. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked. "A fun place, a lovely place to have drinks, a place where you can have an interesting conversation with a friendly face."
"It's not exactly all of it," she said. "It's a little more than that, but I don't want to spoil anything at this point. I want to know the fact that I can trust you. No matter what happens behind the wooden doors, there is something special in you that keeps me coming back."
"I feel the same way, but it's not exactly the same as with you. It's different, but I will say it's wonderful to spend more time with you, and I'm looking forward to the next time we get to spend it together.
Mark looked at his plate and saw the breakfast cocktail he had made for him and Ruth. He reached for his, poured it in the mug and drank it. He put the mug down, and the whole room began spinning out of control. Mark felt rooted to the spot, unable to move his body in any way.
"There goes your pretty little head," Ruth said. "Fall down and rest in peace, dear Mark."
Mark fell on the floor, and his tombstone looked a very pretty white per race. He didn't move, there was nothing else he could do. Then he saw a shadow looking over him and recognized the voice.
"I said that I didn't have to say much, but he wanted to say something to me. It's time to do something about it, but I don't have time." Effington said.
Mark opened his eyes and struggled to see clearly. He looked up and saw someone's shadow, someone he recognized from a distance. "Where am I?" he said.
"Don't move you'll break something, and I don't want you too," the voice said. "It's much easier for me just to be where I am, rather than to leave my chair, no matter how good you look from down here."
"Who are you? Who am I talking to?" Mark asked.
"Keep your voice down, it's me, Effington. Now go to sleep before something bad happens," Effington said.
"Thanks for the concern, but you forgot to tell me something," Mark said.
"What is it?" Mark asked.
"Oh yes, you be right, my good man. Don't worry this is only temporary."
Mark paused. He felt his mind go blank, and he felt like closing his eyes. He did it and went to the trench and completely black.