The Older Guy

Prologue

The jingle of the small bell that hang over the door filled the pub; a signal that someone had walked in. Heavy, slow footsteps carried a man, clad in a white t-shirt and dark jeans, to a booth by the window. He pulled out a lighter, flicking it back and forth as he stared absent minded out the window.

Karrah's eyes shot up from the table she'd been wiping down and looked at the man. She looked over her shoulder at her co-worker, Samuel, mentally asking what to do. Samuel shrugged carrying a tray of dirty dishes to the kitchen in the back. Karrah sighed, throwing the t-towel over her shoulder. She approached the man who gave a quick glance and continued flicking his lighter.

"I'm sorry sir but you can't be in here. It's almost closing time."

The man looked up at Karrah, eyes shaded by long dark lashes, the corner of his mouth twitching into a lazy smirk. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it and placed it between his lips. Karrah watched as he took a long drag blowing a cloud of smoke towards her. Karrah fanned away the grey pollutant still waiting for the man to say something.

"You said almost closing time which means it isn't. Now tell me" he took a glance at the golden name tag sitting on the left of Karrah's chest "Karrah, are you going to turn away a paying customer? Or should I take my money somewhere else?"

He cocked a brow taking another drag. Karrah shook her head. Today had been a slow day and all money was good money, right?

"What would you like the?"

Drag; blow "Whisky on the rocks."

Karrah nodded and left to prepare the man's alcoholic drink.

"Now, I know your name" the man said when Karrah returned with his drink "Aren't you going to ask me mine?"

Karrah looked at the fit middle aged man surprised by his question. Ever since she started work at the pub none of the customers, except the perverted few, had tried to strike up conversation with her. The man, who she had guessed was Irish, looked decent enough. It wouldn't hurt because after all, she might not ever see him again.

"Okay then, what's your name?"

"Michael."

"I'm Karrah."

Karrah hit her forehead with the heel of her palm. He already knew her name. He had read it on her name tag. Michael let out a low, lazy laugh, snuffing out his cigarette on an ash tray.

"Sorry, that was stupid. You already knew that."

"No need for apologies." He took the short glass of whisky, downing it in a few gulps. He shook the glass, the ice clinking against its walls. "We all say stupid things."

Michael stood up offering a hand to Karrah "It was a pleasure meeting you, Karrah. Thanks for the drink."

Karrah hesitated but shook his hand. "The feeling is mutual."

Michael handed Karrah the money, his soldier style boots carrying him out of the pub, overhead bell jingling. Karrah returned to wiping down the tables when Samuel appeared by her side.

"That guy had dark and mysterious written on his forehead in neon lights. Who was he?"

Karrah looked at the booth that had been occupied just mere minutes ago and unknowingly smirked.

"That was Michael."