Written in response to February Writing Prompts on Putting My Feet In The Dirt no.27 a gambler and a thief
A gambler and a thief walk into a bar. Sounds like the start of a joke right? But there we were, not long before last orders, wandering in to not the most salubrious of establishments. But it suited our needs to a T.
I let Jack buy the drinks while I found a table that wasn’t too well-lit. He didn’t need to ask what I wanted. Sitting on the worn bench seat, I tried to ignore the sensation of a thousand angry springs jabbing into my rear. I kept my arms to myself, not wanting to have to peel them from the sticky surface of the table in a few minutes.
“Man, I can barely see you,” Jack grimaced as he put the drinks down. He gave the seat a quick brush before settling himself in. Jack was a man who liked to let people think he had standards. He was sat opposite me, impeccably dressed in a black suit, black tie and crisp white shirt- if not for the blood stain I could see just below his collar. His cufflinks were very sparkly, and very fake. His watch, massive- also fake. Jack liked to play with the big boys at the tables, but unfortunately he hadn’t really learned their rules yet which was why he was still only able to afford the fakes.
Me on the other hand, I had plenty of very real, very sparkly things. Only I couldn’t rightly show them off in public could I? Not if I valued my freedom. Not that sparkly really did much for me. It was more about the challenge.
Right now, Jack and I had our own challenges that very neatly crossed over. And unusally for a gambler and a thief, we trusted each other enough to work together again. His charm could come in useful and I could definitely help him out with a few of those debts. Now we just had to figure out a way of solving both our problems without getting ourselves killed. Or stuck in this sleazy bar.