#budwesier

Esculpido por incertezas rotineiras.

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Best Buds

The Budweiser bottle busted onto the cold, tile floor. Elise looked up in shock as shards of glass ran onto the floor. She wasn’t stunned by a bottle crashing onto the floor. There were two men busting through the steel doorway into the smoke-filled room. Clean cut with suits means they clearly did not belong. She slid a double shot of Jim Beam to the regular at the end of the bar. “Ma’am, we’re looking for this individual.” Elise studied the black and white photo from behind the bar. More of a professional portrait than a mugshot, the latter what she expected. “Doesn’t look too familiar. We see a lot of long haired types in here, though.” She could count six spread across the mahogany glossy bar top. “Can you take another look? We’re certain he’s made his way down this stretch of North Dakota.” Her eye twitched subconsciously. “Never seen him, gentleman. I’m certain of that. Need another Jack on the rocks, Fred?” Her time was running short with this clearly unwelcome suits. The locals began to grow restless. Another beer bottle broke. One of the suits, the smaller of the two, crumbled to the floor in a heap. The more muscular fellow quickly turned to defend his partner. He was met with three regulars’ pistols pointed straight at his large forehead. Sweat poured from the same area. “It’s best you leave out those some doors you came through.” The smell of whiskey followed his command. “Wouldn’t want to have to file a missing persons report on you.” The man on the far left with his Desert Eagle stood tall. Before the classy lad could make his way to the door, Elise stopped him dead in his tracks. “What do you want to know about my son?” His shiny black shoes made a quick pirouette as if he had taken years of ballet lessons. She recognized the move from growing up in front of the wall mirror and wooden bar herself. “Did I hear you right, ma’am?” “I don’t know. Did you?” Just then her phone rang. 

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