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Mason Williams - Samba Beach |
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Jo wandered down the steps from apartment to bar, a cup of coffee giving off hazelnut scented steam in one hand, the other trailing down the rail to keep balance as she moved.
A battered heather grey sweatshirt, black drawstring pants and slide sandals over bare feet were not exactly bar clothes or even work clothes, but it was too early to be concerned with it.
Several paces off the landing of the stairs and she was behind the bar. She set her coffee on the counter and fished two quarters from the cash drawer. Another set of shuffling steps took her to the door, which she unlocked and stuck her head out before following with the rest of her body.
The door clicked shut behind her as she leaned down to plug the swiped quarters into the Las Vegas Daily News paper box they wanted to put in front of her business. As if any of the truckers or locals cared about what was going on in Sin City proper. She opened the door and took her copy out, the hatch slamming shut loudly in the still morning air.
The sun was just painting the horizon pink in the distance and she folded the paper in half between her hands with their freshly scraped knuckles. Newly bruised facial features ached a little in the brisk morning air as she turned her face to the north and watched thestillness of the town. She smiled a little, feeling peaceful despire the fighting she'd done the prior night. Or maybe because of it.
She turned away from the street and went back inside, locked the door behind herself and set her paper on the bar next to the coffee, which she then took a sip from. She set it back down and went to get the broom from the maintenance closet.
She turned on the stereo behind the bar, one of those thousand disc changers. It was connected to the same speakers as the jukebox, but had an entirely different selection of music in it. Manheim Steamroller came from the speakers, older stuff from the mid 80s and as it played, she went around the entire bar, wove her way between tables and chairs as she swept the floor to the rhythm of a track titled Dialogue With The Devil. She bumped the table that Rhiannon and Whistler had danced on the night before and sure enough, one leg wobbled and then gave out completely.
She made a face at it, set the leg on the table top since three legs were still holding it up, and finished up with the sweeping. Maybe she could get Emmy to loan her Aidan to repair it. Not that Nyx sucked or anything, but he was out of town and she really did not feel like doing it herself.
She replaced the broom where it'd been taken from and sat down on the stool in front of her coffee and paper as the track changed from Dialogue to Interlude I. The light inside the room was soft and hazy, only the bar backlights were on, displaying the liquor bottles. The sun was now streaming through the windows as it rose in all its glory. It always amazed her how very quickly it seemed to happen, without fail.
She shook open the paper to see what the day held, what had happened the previous day and most importantly, the comics! She sipped at the coffee again, savored the subtle nutty flavor of the syrup she'd added to it and watched it swirl in its ceramic confines. The deep brown of the coffee itself, the oils that gave it the best of the flavor floating on top because they hated to mix with the water that brewed it and the steam that still wafted off it, despite the cool of the air.
That was the hallmark of an excellent ceramic mug, it kept its contents hot no matter what. She took another slow sip and just for kicks, pushed her stool away from the counter and spun it in lazy circles. She smiled to herself, gathered the paper into a neat pile, took her mug and wandered back up the stairs to make a note to call Emmy later on.
The table leg lay on the table forgotten for the moment and the CD player played on for whoever came in to open. The dust in the air eventually settled as much as it would and the only signs anyone had been there were the paper, pushed out stool and a small pile of debris from her sweeping plus the music no one but her used.
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