Page 7 of Crow
CHAPTER2
Snowflakes swirledabout in the air, landing on tree branches and covering the rooftops in a bright white blanket. Passersby slipped and slid on the frosty pavement as headlights snaked through the traffic on Main Street.
“It’s really starting to come down,” said a man seated at the bar, his shoulders hunched, as he gazed out to the road.
Crow put a fresh glass of whiskey in front of the customer. “Yeah. Do you want anything else?” he asked.
The man shook his headno,then picked up the tumbler and drained it. “I better go before it gets worse. How much do I owe you?”
“Fifteen bucks.”
The man took out a worn leather wallet and handed Crow a twenty. “Keep the change,” he said before stepping down from the barstool.
The cash register drawer popped open, and Crow pulled out a five and slipped it into his pocket. “Thanks, man. Get home safe.”
The older man nodded and headed for the front door. Cold air rushed into the pool hall as soon as he opened it. He turned up his collar, shoved his hands into his coat pockets, and walked out.
“Close the fuckin’ door,” Bud said as he glanced over at Crow. The regular had a pool cue in one hand, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips, and a deep frown etched across his forehead.
“Chill, dude. I’m on it.” Crow strode over to the door and pushed it shut.
Muerto slammed a large box on the bar, then walked over to Crow. He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “I didn’t know it was gonna snow. Shit—I rode my bike.”
Crow laughed. “Where the hell have you been? That’s all the damn TV stations have been talking about for the last week, and newsfeeds on my damn phone have been blowing up with a shitload of storm weather warnings.”
“I didn’t see shit about it.”
“Raven didn’t tell you not to ride into work today?”
“She was at the art center when I left. How much snow are we supposed to get?”
“More than we should. I was hoping to go on a long ride tomorrow. My day off, and I’ll be shoveling snow with the other brothers instead. Fuck,” Crow said as he turned away from the door and walked back to the bar. “Is this the tequila and vodka?” he asked, pointing to the box.
“Yeah,” Muerto replied, still staring out the window. “Did you ride in?”
“Nah. If it gets too bad, bring your bike into the storeroom, and I’ll take you home.”
“I may have to do that.” Muerto sauntered over to the bar flap. “We’ve become real pussies, dude.”
Crow chuckled. “Speak for yourself.”
“No, I’m serious. Back in the day, I wouldn’t give a shit about the weather. I’d be on my Harley no matter what.” He lifted the countertop and went behind the bar. “When the fuck did we get so damn old?”
“We?”
“You didn’t take your bike because of the snowstorm, so, yeah,we.”
Crow shook his head. “I took the SUV because I have shit to pick up at the supplier.”
Muerto snorted. “Bullshit, dude.”
“You got old when you hitched up with Raven. Chicks make you all kinds of messed up, you know?”
One corner of his mouth lifted up in a bemused grin. “Messed up in a good way.”
“Not always,” Crow said. “You up for a meatball sub?”
“At Bella Vita’s Deli?”
