#boise.starter

[zanecarterr]

closing time ( downtown boise/record exchange ) || open to all 

At this point in his life, Zane knew this store like the back of his hand, seemingly just going through the motions as he walked the isles with a zoned off look in his eyes. It was a quiet night, middle of the week, and there were only a few people finishing up their purchases at the registers. Things had been pretty routine lately, after closing up tonight he planned on stopping by Red Feather Lounge to help out with bartending for a few hours. It seemed like the bills he had to help pay never disappeared, no matter how many hours he clocked, they just never went away. But that didn’t stop him from grinding every single day he could until things got better for his mother until the debts of his late father were paid, it was the least he could do. So these long shifts were just a part of his life now, walking through it without much fervor as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “Thank God.” He muttered under his breath, seeing that it was finally time to close, although he had to work for four more hours after this but...that was beside the point.

As soon as the last people by the register completed their purchases, he offered them a quick smile before thanking them, opening the door for them, and then promptly shutting it behind them to lock up. It was a swift turn of the keys in the doors, humming under his breath to whatever track the front clerk had chosen for the night as he turned to make his way towards the back isles to make sure things were in order. As he sharply turned the corner, however, he came into contact with someone and steadied himself, “Shit, you scared me.” Zane breathed out through a small, short laugh, ring clad fingers pushing his hair out of his face. “I thought I was the only one back here. Uh, it’s closing time.” It wasn’t rude coming off his tongue, it was a reminder as he raised a brow with a shrug, “I don’t really care if you linger around or whatever, just as long as you’re out the door when I am. Got a long night ahead of me.”

And that was the bitter truth he just had to remind himself of, every night was long, and every day was even longer. Next chance he had, he’s giving himself a break, he just had to find the time for it.

[southby]

Tuesdays didn’t mean a lot to a lot of people. But Tuesdays meant two things for Officer Oliver Southby. The first was that it was his day off. The horrendously starched khaki uniform could be left in the dirty clothes pile & he wouldn’t have to feel the weight of the badge until Wednesday morning when he’d don it right along with his hangover. Tuesdays also meant two dollar beers & four dollar wells at Red Feather. Naturally, that’s where Southby could be found any given Tuesday.  A good buzz came cheap & easy, motivating him, after a short while, to take himself outside if he was to last past two o’clock. It was a marathon -- not a sprint, he heard someone say in the back of his head as he pushed open the door & was greeted with the white hot light of the sun on his unadjusted eyes. Blinking & squinting, he lit a cigarette. “Oh shit.” Without a second thought, Southby dropped into a crouch, offering the back of his hand out to the golden pooch that had just trotted past the curb. “Say, is this your dog?” Southby called to the first person he saw, giving the retriever’s head a double pat as it wagged its tail. “You lost, bub?” Southby asked the dog, cocking his head. “You don’t wanna go in there. I promise.” The dog, nonplussed, continued wagging its tail, prodding Southby with his paw to earn more scratches on the head.