“ WILL YOU CHANGE THE DAMN SONG ? ” Arthur called back over the bar, the beer bottle balanced precariously between his forefinger and thumb. He swirled its contents lazily, eyes slow to follow the line of his body back to where Karen was slouched. She was apparently ignoring him on purpose, not bothering to glance up from her phone before grunting in disapproval. Most days at the clubhouse were like this, rather bland and unmotivated unless something was on the books. But it was Arthur’s turn to babysit and as much as he hated the lazy pace of those days, he would do so willingly.
He kept note of the patrons that came and went from the seedy, backwoods bar Dutch owned— a front lest they need it that only housed their like, a handful of equally questionable locals, and the accidental road-tripper who was only passing through. It was Arthur’s job on those days to keep tabs on anyone coming and going lest they make trouble for them down the line. They didn’t usually which made many of his fellows complain when it was their turn on the rotation, but the girls usually enjoyed the company. Karen, evidently, wasn’t in the mood for it today, but the silence had always suited Arthur just fine.
He took another lazy sip of beer, unsatisfied by the taste but committed to it all the same. The telltale squeak of the front door’s aged hinges piqued Arthur’s attention enough to listen. He knew his companions by gait, boots scuffing and scraping over oiled hardwood in Dutch’s haughty bounce or Hosea’s tired limp, so it was no surprise when the seat beside him wheezed under Sadie Adler’s weight. Without bothering to look, Arthur downed the end of his beer and set it definitively on the inside lip of the bar. “ Need a drink ? ”
starter for @hellbentwidow
