“The usual, Darcy?” Tommy asked with his usual creepy leer as I pushed myself up onto a bar stool, my hand automatically going to massage my thigh as the muscles cramped.
“Yeah, please,” I said, sagging against the bar with a slightly weary sigh.
I’d spent my entire day chasing after Jack Booted Thugs who didn’t respect the words
and it was exhausting.
“Those feds still hanging around?” Tommy asked, pouring out my drink.
“That’s one way of putting it. Do you reckon I can sue them for harassment?” I asked curiously as I looked around the bar.
Across the bar a group of guys in suits were playing darts, their ties loosened, sleeves rolled up and jackets slung across the backs of chairs.
A woman was sitting alone in the corner, every few minutes her eyes would sweep across the room; her focus snapping to any sudden noise or movement.
I flinched slightly at the hand on mine, pulling it out of Tommy’s grip I reached for the drink he’d just sat down.
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