Answering for Donna

820 Words2 Pages

# Somewhat reluctant, Alex held out his right hand, in the back of mind trying to figure out what bothered him about what Bruce had said, but the whiskey had made his head feel fuzzy. He couldn’t remember—like a lot of things—when he’d last had a drink, and he hadn’t anticipated the quickness in which it would take effect, but that didn’t matter. He’d be okay. Even if Bruce tried running, skipping out on the payment, Alex, on his worst, drunkest day, could shoot the kid’s bony knees off at fifty yards—he’d nailed things smaller from further away. “These two crystals represent your past and future, okay? If you can—” Alex retracted. “What is this?” “As I was saying: if you can face this, face yourself, then you win the game. understand?” Bruce pushed the crystals forward, so that they rested a few inches from Alex’s hands. “But if you can’t, I walk out of here, and you can explain that to your boss.” “Let’s just get this over with,” Alex said, reaching for the crystal on the right, but before he could touch it, Bruce stopped his hand. “Would you like another drink?” Bruce stood and rounded the table, holding his empty beer glass. Ahead, the mirror sat unobstructed from Alex, giving a perfect view of his stubbly grey jowls and thinning salt and pepper hair. It seemed, like the old man, he too faced the inevitability of age—the promise of illness and death. But at least he—unlike Mr. Cochrane—would have the resources to make that end a comfortable one. “So…?” “Sure, make it another Jameson.” As Bruce walked away, Alex snatched the crystal on the right and immediately felt a jolt travel throughout his body, sending him to his feet, where, seconds later, he froze in place—unable to move. He continued staring into the mirror, pupils ... ... middle of paper ... ... bartender coming over the counter and Bruce, a slack expression on his face, chanting something that Alex didn’t have time to comprehend between pulling the trigger on his 380. Taurus and watching, across in the mirror, the left side of his head explode—all over Bruce. Kneeling, Bruce leaned forward, until his stale breath met Alex’s ear. “Consider the debt paid, Alex—every last fucking cent.” He then retrieved the crystals from where they had fallen and placed them in his pockets, their former white now a charcoal black. “What the hell just happened?” the bartender said, massive girth trembling, and retreated behind the counter. Bruce shrugged and smiled. “Nothing I’d worry about, man. But you’d better call the cops—before someone else does—and give me another drink while you’re at it. The night’s still young, and there’s no reason to waste it.”

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