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zookeeperAs one would expect in a town this size, there were a lot of local teen haunts that offered a variety of opportunities for the local population to get up to trouble without things ever turning serious. Parks, rec centers, movie theaters, plenty of open public spaces. Occasional a few traveling faires would pass through for a couple of weeks during the warmer months.
This place was not one of them.
It was in a part of town that used to be considered the nice part, but time had marched on and as the happier, shinier businesses had moved away, the place had become rougher, taking on a reputation of being less safe for the typical suburban family. Gone were the little mom’n’pop shops, the tailor’s and local corner grocers but the mechanic shops, the steel mill, a few warehouses and the dive bars had survived and even thrived in some cases. Add to it the proximity to the interstate and it saw all kinds just passing through for the night.
Lucky’s used to be a shoe repair shop, until that tanked. Then it was a coffee shop, until that also tanked. Finally someone had enough sense to strip the place down to the bare bones and turned it into what it should have always been, a dimly lit dive bar with brick walls and bare steel beams. Throw some random pictures of famous dead people on the walls with no rhyme or reason, maybe a few local street signs that may or may not have been stolen, a jukebox in the corner that hadn’t been updated in 20 years and a couple of pool tables in the back and that was basically the vibe of the joint. There were a few tables, a couple of booths for those that didn’t much care for company and an old wooden bar that had that ‘older than your grandpa but will outlive you’ feel to it. During the week, Lucky’s was pretty slow but come Friday night and the crowd got interesting. Not what someone would call a pleasant crowd or a well-to-do one but the kind that would be described as “having character” and “a rough charm”. Definitely the kind that parents warned their children about for fear that they might get mugged or worse, become one of them.
In other words, Lucky’s was the second stop in Yazoo’s typical Friday night, maybe a later one if he skipped class in the first half of his day, because there were usually a few new faces passing through that were good for a shake down. Dim lights and a fake ID meant that most people thought he was a few years older than he actually was but still young enough that they always thought he was an easy mark for a game or two of pool with a friendly side bet. Twenty bucks here, thirty there and a couple of fifty dollar rounds on a Friday night would set him up for a good take come Saturday and Sunday. And when he and his brothers combined their less than above board takings, it kept them fed and people from asking too many questions.
And it was always the out of towners at Lucky’s that he targeted. In most places for that matter. It didn’t pay to piss off the locals since they would warn people away from the table if they didn’t like you. Buying a ground of cheap beer for the bar did help though and he’d taken care of that shortly after he got there. Made sure the bartender had seen the large tip he’d dropped as well. That should have bought him some good graces for the night, let him work without anyone trying to steer away whomever walked in with a new face on them and his first two marks had been gracious enough about their losses. One had even laughed about it when he figured out he was being taken but this guy? This guy was taking it hard. Probably didn’t help that he still thought he could somehow turn this game around in his favour even as Yazoo’s last shot had curved the cue ball around the corner pocket to knock the one he wanted into a center pocket instead. That got him cursed at and a demand for double or nothing.
Who was he to refuse an easy payday? He let the brick of a man slap his cash down on the railing and stood back for the stranger to take his shot, only to watch him totally scratch it. “Maybe you should have stuck to darts, man.” He suggested as he tried not to smirk too noticeably but even with a blank face this guy was ready to go off. There was a promise of violence in his glare; the stalk you home and jump you at the door kind too. So Yazoo calculated the risks in his head; Would giving this clown his money back get rid of him? Or was he the kind of asshole that wasn’t happy even when he got his shit back?
Given the shade of red he was, the teen was betting on the latter so why give up the winnings if that was the case? Maybe if he snapped before that though, he’d get tossed out with a threat of the cops being called? Bigger risk to Yazoo but chances were good that a guy like this had a record and he’d piss off out of town instead of risking a run in with the local cop shop. Hell, maybe Loz was close by. He’d be street racing tonight, he’d probably be able to get here before this guy completely flipped his circuits. And Loz did love a good fist fight. He was only a text away too, in theory.
So instead of worrying about not pissing the burly trucker off any further or giving up the small pile of cash at stake, Yazoo finished the game by sinking his last shot. It hadn’t been hard. The guy might have talked big but he wasn’t half as skilled as his ego made him think he was and when he made to grab the bills on the pool table, the young man proved to be more agile and quick there too as he snatched his prize up and right into the back of his jeans with one hand, cell phone out and in the other with an SOS ready to go. “Walk it off, Chuckles.” Probably not the smartest thing to say to a guy three times your size with a pool cue in his hands but Yazoo’s mouth sometimes had a mind of its own. He couldn’t afford to lose face here though so he was just going to have to duck and really damn hope that Loz was nearby when he got a chance to send that message. After all, it wasn’t like anyone else in this joint was going to risk their necks for someone else, friend or stranger alike.
This place was not one of them.
It was in a part of town that used to be considered the nice part, but time had marched on and as the happier, shinier businesses had moved away, the place had become rougher, taking on a reputation of being less safe for the typical suburban family. Gone were the little mom’n’pop shops, the tailor’s and local corner grocers but the mechanic shops, the steel mill, a few warehouses and the dive bars had survived and even thrived in some cases. Add to it the proximity to the interstate and it saw all kinds just passing through for the night.
Lucky’s used to be a shoe repair shop, until that tanked. Then it was a coffee shop, until that also tanked. Finally someone had enough sense to strip the place down to the bare bones and turned it into what it should have always been, a dimly lit dive bar with brick walls and bare steel beams. Throw some random pictures of famous dead people on the walls with no rhyme or reason, maybe a few local street signs that may or may not have been stolen, a jukebox in the corner that hadn’t been updated in 20 years and a couple of pool tables in the back and that was basically the vibe of the joint. There were a few tables, a couple of booths for those that didn’t much care for company and an old wooden bar that had that ‘older than your grandpa but will outlive you’ feel to it. During the week, Lucky’s was pretty slow but come Friday night and the crowd got interesting. Not what someone would call a pleasant crowd or a well-to-do one but the kind that would be described as “having character” and “a rough charm”. Definitely the kind that parents warned their children about for fear that they might get mugged or worse, become one of them.
In other words, Lucky’s was the second stop in Yazoo’s typical Friday night, maybe a later one if he skipped class in the first half of his day, because there were usually a few new faces passing through that were good for a shake down. Dim lights and a fake ID meant that most people thought he was a few years older than he actually was but still young enough that they always thought he was an easy mark for a game or two of pool with a friendly side bet. Twenty bucks here, thirty there and a couple of fifty dollar rounds on a Friday night would set him up for a good take come Saturday and Sunday. And when he and his brothers combined their less than above board takings, it kept them fed and people from asking too many questions.
And it was always the out of towners at Lucky’s that he targeted. In most places for that matter. It didn’t pay to piss off the locals since they would warn people away from the table if they didn’t like you. Buying a ground of cheap beer for the bar did help though and he’d taken care of that shortly after he got there. Made sure the bartender had seen the large tip he’d dropped as well. That should have bought him some good graces for the night, let him work without anyone trying to steer away whomever walked in with a new face on them and his first two marks had been gracious enough about their losses. One had even laughed about it when he figured out he was being taken but this guy? This guy was taking it hard. Probably didn’t help that he still thought he could somehow turn this game around in his favour even as Yazoo’s last shot had curved the cue ball around the corner pocket to knock the one he wanted into a center pocket instead. That got him cursed at and a demand for double or nothing.
Who was he to refuse an easy payday? He let the brick of a man slap his cash down on the railing and stood back for the stranger to take his shot, only to watch him totally scratch it. “Maybe you should have stuck to darts, man.” He suggested as he tried not to smirk too noticeably but even with a blank face this guy was ready to go off. There was a promise of violence in his glare; the stalk you home and jump you at the door kind too. So Yazoo calculated the risks in his head; Would giving this clown his money back get rid of him? Or was he the kind of asshole that wasn’t happy even when he got his shit back?
Given the shade of red he was, the teen was betting on the latter so why give up the winnings if that was the case? Maybe if he snapped before that though, he’d get tossed out with a threat of the cops being called? Bigger risk to Yazoo but chances were good that a guy like this had a record and he’d piss off out of town instead of risking a run in with the local cop shop. Hell, maybe Loz was close by. He’d be street racing tonight, he’d probably be able to get here before this guy completely flipped his circuits. And Loz did love a good fist fight. He was only a text away too, in theory.
So instead of worrying about not pissing the burly trucker off any further or giving up the small pile of cash at stake, Yazoo finished the game by sinking his last shot. It hadn’t been hard. The guy might have talked big but he wasn’t half as skilled as his ego made him think he was and when he made to grab the bills on the pool table, the young man proved to be more agile and quick there too as he snatched his prize up and right into the back of his jeans with one hand, cell phone out and in the other with an SOS ready to go. “Walk it off, Chuckles.” Probably not the smartest thing to say to a guy three times your size with a pool cue in his hands but Yazoo’s mouth sometimes had a mind of its own. He couldn’t afford to lose face here though so he was just going to have to duck and really damn hope that Loz was nearby when he got a chance to send that message. After all, it wasn’t like anyone else in this joint was going to risk their necks for someone else, friend or stranger alike.
no subject
Date: 2024-03-12 01:59 am (UTC)He sipped at his beer as he studied the older man in front of him, his delinquent mind turning over what would be the most interesting or entertaining gamble to take as a slow smile crept across his lips. A wise men would recognize a look like that as a sign of nothing but trouble brewing.
"Alright. How about this, I'll bet you the rest of the night. You win and I'll be a good boy and do what you say. I win and it's your turn to be a good sport." Was the ambiguous phrasing provocative and intentional? Most definitely but it gave some wiggle room out if Cor thought he needed to tap out. Especially since Yazoo had no intentions of losing to his own game. Of course, if he did tap out, he was just handing ammunition over to the young man that would most definitely be used later one when the opportunity arose.
no subject
Date: 2024-03-12 02:06 am (UTC)Still, he wasn't expecting that kind of alternative, and it made his eyes widen to the full implications of what could mean. "...anything? Truly? I hope you realize the kind of fire you're playing with here with that kind of bet." He suspects that the lad does, for his blood is running much warmer at the thought of being able to make Yazoo do anything he asks of him to...
But there's also the risk of him losing to his own student, and that seems to only thrill him as much as it worries him. The challenge seems too good to just outright refuse. "Before I give my answer...I want to know that you're fully aware of what you want us to possibly get ourselves into."
no subject
Date: 2024-03-12 02:27 am (UTC)Fires were meant to burn after all, or what was even the point of them?
"I'm not the one that has to make the hard choice here. But if you're scare someone's going to tattle...I haven't yet, have I?" He replied with an easy shrug then added, "And no one is keeping us hostage here as far as I can tell. Unless you're expecting good company?" Implying that the young man was exactly what he was, bad company to keep.
no subject
Date: 2024-03-12 02:36 am (UTC)"...Hah. You can stop selling yourself short there on that last bit." Not entirely a lie to cover both of them, really. Cor finishes the rest of his beer bottle in one long pull. "Fine. I accept your challenge...but you'd better not be complaining too much if I win." Curse his endless desire for challenges mingling with this terrible-yet-enticing allure he's getting with the lad. But the man is making the mistake that he could best someone who's already a skilled pool hustler.
Blame it on the beer...even if Cor's heart (and groin) can't.
no subject
Date: 2024-03-12 02:56 am (UTC)"Two again." Yazoo said as he dropped a tenner into the tip jar while the bartender watched and had no reason at all to cut off that stream of cash. Was it a cheap tactic to use? Probably but it wasn't like Yazoo was worried he would lose either, it was more of a way to get Cor to relax a little more instead of getting a case of the Better Judgements ™.
He held out the new bottle as he passed by the larger man and headed for the pool table. "Are you saying you don't enjoy a little sound? Could have fooled me." He teased as he retrieved the dropped pool cue from the spot Chuckles had left it on his way out, "You seemed pretty damn determined to get something out of me before. Or is it just those words you really like to hear?"
He doesn't really wait for answer so much as just gives a little sass for Cor to stew upon while he racks the pool balls for their game. "Solids or stripes...Sir?" Yeah, get ready for those buttons to be pushed. There's a game to be won, after all.