Page 17 of The Thief

“I want the Wild Rabbit,” Virgil demanded while racking the balls.

When I turned around, I smacked into Bear. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you standing there.”

The apples of his cheeks flushed when he smiled. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before. I’m hard to miss.”

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Do y’all sell Shifter ale?”

“Uh, no, but I’m hoping we will soon. We have a stout that’s popular. Can I pour you a glass?”

He brushed his hand over his beard. “Sounds mighty good. Do they give you a break around here?”

Come to think of it, I hadn’t taken a break since I walked in the door.

“You wanna sit with me?” he asked, gesturing to a table.

My tummy did a little somersault when I smelled his cologne. What in the world has come over me? “Let me get your drinks first. Back in a jiff.”

Over by the jukebox, Montana and Calvin were plugging in the machine and pushing buttons. When the lights came on and nothing happened, Calvin sputtered a curse.

“Are you good?” I asked Amy, who had finished her peanuts. “I’m taking my break, but holler if you need a refill.”

She mumbled her thanks, preoccupied with the messages on her phone.

Technology had changed people, and not always for the better. In her case, a phone helped with her job. But for others, it was a compulsive addiction. I’d been in human restaurants where people were sitting together but not talking because they were on their devices. It wasn’t as prevalent among Breed since most of us avoided social media accounts.

After pouring a Wild Rabbit and a whiskey neat, I headed over to the pool table.

Virgil angrily dropped his stick on the felt top. “Come on, Archer! I wanna play.”

“Fuck off, Taz,” Archer replied from the dartboards in the back. “I already said no.”

“I don’t care about winning,” he went on. “Just one game.”

Archer was highly capable, but I had my doubts that he was the most-skilled pool player. I felt bad that he couldn’t get involved in every activity, so after setting Virgil’s drink next to his hat, I sashayed to the end of the room with Archer’s whiskey.

“I’m on my break, so nurse that until I’m done. If you’re hungry, I’ll bring you a bowl of peanuts in a bit.”

Archer aimed, and when he threw the dart, it landed in the bullseye.

“Lucky shot!” I cheered, putting his glass on a standing table.

He threw another dart, and it hit the bullseye.

My jaw slackened.

Archer sauntered over and coolly lifted his drink. “I’ve always had good aim.”

The rueful way he said it left me wondering about the remark while I moseyed over to serve Bear his glass of beer. After retrieving a bottle of cold water for myself, I located him at a center table. Before I reached him, the main door opened.

“Welcome to the Rabbit Lounge,” I called out, realizing I couldn’t let a new customer go without service.

A man wearing a long black coat and gloves flipped back his shoulder-length grey hair.

I hastily set our drinks in front of Bear. “Let me take care of this customer real quick. I’ll be right back.”

Bear’s eyes locked on the man, who glided up to the bar with a regal stride.

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