Good morning. I hope everyone has dried out from yesterdays deluge, or is at least reviewing plans for their own Ark. The rains seem to have ended, but the weathermen are predicting doom is on the way. Which seems about right for Easter Weekend. All of my Easter dresses growing up were thin summer weight material. An I remember freezing half to death in them. I can’t remember a single Easter where I wasn’t shivering. So I suppose the weather is on course then. But we have a few days before good Friday (and possible snow hits here), so lets just move forward with the morning writing prompt shall we?
This one looks interesting. I think I’d have to figure out what the three men are hiding before I decided it I liked this story or not. I think it might be one I come back too and mine for bits rather than make a full story out of.
Wednesday, April 13th: Chris was becoming a liability.
Chris was becoming a liability. Mo looked across the room and watched him lift the glass to his lips. He downed the rest of his beer and reached for the pitcher. Drinking with his friends was one thing. He laughed and joked and the drunker he got, the louder he became, but he never revealed anything that could do anyone harm. It was only when he left the bar that problems arouse. If he went home alone, fine. He would fall into bed in that run down trailer he called home and sleep it off until the next day. Then he’d get up, and start a new day. The only variation being the date and the color of shirt he chose for the day.
At this point they all knew Chris had eight shirts, each a different color. He wore seven and then when he put on the eight he’d take them all down to the laundromat on the corner of fifth and Gardenia. They’d all get washed and when he put on the last clean one that process would be repeated. Today’s shirt was Blue and was showing sweat stains around the neck line, under the arms and at the base of his spine.
If Chris went home, all would be well. It was only if he took a girl back to his place that things would get iffy. The last girl Chris took home showed up at Roscoe’s two days later, full of information, information she could have only gotten from one of them. Mo knew he didn’t talk and as Roscoe had been out of town for a couple of weeks, returning only the morning the girl arrived, he knew Roscoe didn’t talk. Which only left Chris.
While Chris kept his mouth shut while with the boys, it seemed that in the night he’d become a bit more talkative, contemplating the hand life dealt him.
‘A hand that will be a lot harsher if he doesn’t learn to keep quiet,’ Mo thought. He quietly sipped his drink, Eyes only sliding past Roscoe every now and again so it didn’t look as though he was watching Chris. He and Roscoe went way back. They had hung out since they were teenagers and if anyone thought it strange that they were seen grabbing a beer together more often lately, no one remarked on it. They kept to themselves, paid their tabs and didn’t cause trouble. Since the same couldn’t be said for many of the clientele they were left alone.
Chris hadn’t yet realized he was being monitored. Truth was, he and Roscoe hadn’t yet decided what to do about Chris. They agreed he was problematic and rapidly becoming a liability, but for the moment they also needed him. He was, for the moment valuable.
Earlier that evening, his value took a bit of a nose dive, which was why he and Roscoe were reevaluating the situation. A replacement had been found for Chris.
‘Although calling Frank a replacement isn’t quite accurate,’ Mo thought. Frank’s skills were sharper and in a side by side comparison Frank would have come out on top. It left them in something of a quandary. Chris was no longer as valuable, but as soon as he learned a replacement had been found, he wasn’t likely to take it well.
Ten til Midnight 