The Crossroads

There were advantages to working at The Crossroads. For one thing, life was never dull – and when you were staring down the gun barrel of eternity, a little excitement never did you any harm.

Not that anything could, really.

There were drawbacks, of course. Not least of which was the fact that, despite the club being a check-your-issues-at-the-door kind of place, there was still the occasional lunkhead that thought they could start trouble.

Case in point: the guy across the bar.

Setting down the glass she’d been polishing, she fixed the guy with her best don’t-fuck-with-me stare.

“Look buddy,” arms crossed, eyes narrowed, “this has gone far enough, wouldn’tja say? Now, either you quiet down or I’mma gonna call security and have you thrown out. Your choice. ”

They stared one another down for a long moment before he finally caved, eyes sliding down to the counter of the bar.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

(154 words)