His eyes land on me for a brief second.
My posture stays loose against the chair.
He looks away.
Good.
Being overlooked is part of the job.
The man at the bar sighs like this whole situation is nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
“Look,” he says, turning back toward Wayne. “We’re trying to help you out here. Places like this run into accidents all the time. Broken windows. Fights. Health inspections. Things happen when people don’t have the right kind of protection.”
Wayne doesn’t answer.
The bartender does.
“You forgot something.”
The man glances back toward her.
“What’s that?”
She gestures casually around the room.
“The part where you walk out the door.”
For a moment nobody moves.
Then the man laughs again, though this one carries a sharper edge.
“You’ve got guts,” he says.
He pushes away from the counter and straightens his jacket.
“We’ll come back another night when you’re feeling more cooperative.”
She folds her arms across her chest.
“You should probably pick a different bar.”
The three men turn and head for the door.
Halfway there the one in front glances back over his shoulder.
“You might want to learn when to keep your mouth shut.”
She doesn’t hesitate.
“You might want to learn when you’re not welcome.”
The door shuts behind them.
The bar stays quiet for a few seconds before conversations slowly start again.
Wayne exhales heavily and rubs his face.
“You shouldn’t push them like that,” he mutters.
