And I don't talk to cops," Sarah said, reciting the requirements she'd synthesized in her head. and I need the money. The man took a drag of his cigarette. "You got a name? " "Sarah.
" "I'm Frank. You know where you are, "Sarah. " "I know. " Frank stepped back, holding the door open. "Come in.
If you faint, you're fired. If you steal, you're dead. If you survive the night, we'll talk about pay. " Sarah stepped over the threshold. The door slammed shut behind her with the finality of a prison cell closing.
The interior of the Iron Piston was darker than the night outside. The only light came from pool table lamps and the red glow of neon beer signs. The air was thick, a physical weight of smoke, leather, and testosterone. Behind the bar, Frank grunted, pointing a thick finger toward a long slab of polished oak. Sarah marched behind the bar.
It was sticky. The smell of stale beer was overwhelming. There were about 20 men in the room. As she took her position, the low rumble of conversation died out. 20 pairs of eyes fixed on her.
It wasn't the leering gaze she was used to from the dive bars downtown. This was different. It was predatory, territorial. They were waiting for her to break. A man sitting at the bar nearest the taps swiveled his stool.
He was lean, wiry, with a shaved head and a scar running through his left eyebrow. His cut identified him as Snake. He had a erratic energy, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the wood. "Well, look at this," Snake said, his voice high and scratchy. Frankie brought in a stray.
Frank, who had moved to a table in the corner, didn't look up from his paperwork. "She's pouring. " Snake, "Shut up and drink. " Snake grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "Hey, Stray, give me a Jack and Coke.
Heavy on the Jack. Hold the Coke. " Sarah grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels. Her hand trembled just once. She caught it, steadied her wrist, and poured.
She slid the glass toward him. "50," she said. Snake laughed. "50 for a shot for the attitude. Sarah shot back.
Drink is 10. " The room went dead silent. A few pool cues stopped mid-stroke. Snake stared at her, his smile fading into a flat, dangerous line. He leaned over the bar, invading her space.
"You got a mouth on you," Snake whispered. "I got bills to pay," Sarah said, holding his gaze. She was terrified. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. But she remembered Gary.