Big Bad Emiliano de la Renta
A man lies in wait to settle the score.
Sweat trickled down my lower back, the August night retaining the heat of the sun long after it set. The ceiling fans did little except to stir the thick air. With the red and orange neon casting bloody shadows, I may as well have been in hell.
I give my drink a swirl and listened to the refreshing tinkle of ice against the crystal. Lifting it to my mouth, I drained the last of the glass’s contents and allowed the remaining cubes rest against my upper lip until it started to burn.
I liked this bar.
Despite the lack of AC, Navaja was fancier than my usual watering hole.
But I had cash to spend and a score to settle.
I lowered the glass in time with the music’s beat. Tonight’s performance was good. The band was playing a cover of Juana la Cubana. I ran a tongue over my lips for a lingering taste of gin and waved down the bartender. He abandoned the other patrons rather quickly. I’d been tipping him big all evening.
Smiling, he leaned over the bartop, gold chain swinging forward from the collar of his guayabera. “Dígame.”
Somewhere behind me a group of people shouted a greeting to a newcomer. I turned my head slightly, just enough to fit him into my periphery.
Emiliano De la Renta. He was big, he was bad, and he knew it. He stood about six-foot-four and weighed a hefty 245. There was a swagger about De la Renta, 80% of it due to the fat ‘n nasty .357 Magnum in his pants.
I watched as he took a seat with a group of men smoking cigars. They weren’t as big as De la Renta but there were certainly more of them than me.
Not that I cared.
My mom always said I didn’t have the sense to match the brains God gave me.
I twisted the wedding band around my finger before placing my hands flat on the bar and turned to the bartender. “One more G&T.” I passed him a roll of cash, adding, “then close my account.”
“Sir.”
I stood, my stool scraping against the hardwood floors. Somehow, it sounded louder than the music. I reached for the glock tucked into the back of my jeans.
Yeah, Emiliano De la Renta was big and bad.
But tonight I planned to be worse.
Coming up:
Sit by the fire and let me spin a yarn for you, weary traveller.
Eldritch Tales from the Jungle - Part IV
Flowers from Exodus - Part II
Death of Ælfric, Brother of the King
Stoney Hollow - Episode Seven
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Wander not where there is no light.
Come rest your head from colouring greys, the shades of night.
Nice atmosphere!
Very nice!