Grievance

Our unnamed protagonist seeks out local crime aficionado for work

Grievance

"Prologue"

Entering the bar, I immediately noticed that familiar pungent odor of cigarettes and cheap booze that graced my nostrils whenever I found myself back in this place. I took quick note of my surroundings. Nothing new, same old folk that would usually hang around the bar at this late of an hour.  I shared a quick glance with the bartender, Lance Fisherman, a good fella’ with cheap taste in liquor and a spirit that would liven up just about any dampened soul who happened to wander off the streets and into his bar. He gave me a smile and a wink, like he always did when he saw my sorry a*s wander into his bar every now and then. My eyes met with another man at the back of the bar. His name was Tracy Gilligan. I didn’t know much about him other than a couple of rumors that happened to tickle my ear every now and then. Mostly heard of the trouble he’d usually stir up around town, whether it be mugging a man in a dark alley, or spookin’ the locals into thinking there was a bear in their trashcan. However, I didn’t care about any of that malarkey. I only cared about what he had in mind next. Now, I didn’t know much about it, but I heard somethin’ ‘bout a huge drug house that he’d been running himself for the past few years. Noticing the sparkle in my eye, Tracy motioned for me to come over. He wore a twisted grin on that scraggly face of his as I strode over to his table, like he knew exactly what I wanted. He motioned for me to take a seat. I sat down, reluctantly at first. His less than comforting voice bellowed in my direction, “So, you want in? Well, I gotta tell you it ain’t that easy, kid.” Sighing, I responded with my usual stuttery voice, “So.. How would you know that I wanted in? I haven’t even said a word to you yet.” Tracy guffawed before speaking with that guttural voice of his, “I could see it in yer eye, kid. You had the look of a man looking for something, unbeknownst to what you’re really after. But I have a feeling that I know exactly what you’re after.” I couldn’t help but scoff, passing off what he said as bullshit. There was no way this scraggly b*****d had any idea what I wanted. “Fine, let’s skip the chit-chat. How do I get in?” I started. Tracy looked me square in face, “Well first things first, how do I know you ain’t a cop? Can’t have a narc ruining the entire operation, you see?” Man, was he this stupid? Mentioning anything about an “operation” was sure to set off any alarms in an undercover cops head. It was amazing that he had kept this going for so long. But I knew I wasn’t a cop. I was looking for work, whether it was clean or not I didn’t care. I needed this job, and I would stop at nothing to get in.

Author's Note

This is just the prologue of a bit of crime fiction writing. Tell me what you think! If it gets enough feedback I'll post the rest for everyone to read.