‘From the man at the bar.’
She placed a short glass of whiskey careful to lean over his shoulder and give the message as privately as possible. To Han, it could mean two things. One, the man at the bar was familiar with his work and wanted to offer him a job. Two, which was more likely now, was that he was interested in sexual relations. Unfortunately for the stranger, Han was happily married to the owner of the establishment he now occupied. The Silver Tongue’s business was thriving as usual. Bringing all sorts of consumers through it’s front doors and partaking in the night’s oddities and thrills. Han’s place was at the front, watching out for Sofia’s girls and making sure the patrons were happy and at peace. His eyes shifted to the stout glass, the condensation trickling down in varying colors from the reflection in the room. This, although he hadn’t turned to greet the man’s eyes, felt oddly familiar. A sort of ominous shadow from a time far passed. As if fate wasn’t cruel enough, Han’s gaze locks with the man who was instantly recognizable. Conrad, Vincent’s very own right hand man, lifted his glass in a knowing gesture, his expression calm and inviting.
Han’s jaw clenched, his heart rate accelerating and he immediately felt surrounded. For years, he avoided any member of his former gang, letting them believe he died in the street where they left him that day. By all accounts he should have, Vincent carved him up enough. Deep breaths left him jagged and on edge. He grit his teeth and stood, shoulders stiff and braced for the confrontation that was about to take place. Con returned to face the bar, his chin lifted as he tilted his glass back and finished his round before asking for another.
“What are you doing here?” Han keep his voice low, but tense and he spoke through clenched teeth, begging for a reason to punch the man.
“I’m a patron. What does it look like I’m doing?” Con snapped back, his tone light and playful.
“Go? I paid for this and yours too. I assume you’re old enough to drink now and not a ghost haunting this club. Believe me, kid. When I saw you I was just as shocked as you are now. You’re pretty good at playing dead.”
Han’s hand slowly rolled into a fist, very quickly losing patience. “We don’t serve your kind here.”
Con scoffed, the skin where brows should have been lifted in a gesture of surprise. “My kind? Now that’s rich coming from you. Don’t you have any respect for your elders, kid?” He chuckled and took a gulp of his fresh gin.
“Respect is something you lost when you and everyone else helped split me open, you fuck.” Con glared at him and took another drink, pulling his lips back and exposing his teeth before sighing.
“I’m surprised, kid. After all these years of remembering that day very vividly and only now having one question on my mind. Why did he miss?”
Han’s brow furrowed, his gaze concentrated but his face read confusion. Conrad continued. “Vincent...is a butcher. He knows his way round a knife and he knows how to carve a pig when he sees one.” Han swallows. “So why did he miss?” He swivels his chair back and faces Han fully. The man had gained even more weight and muscle since the last he saw of him. Wrinkles lined the edges of his eyes and mouth, but for the most part he was unchanged. “Do you ever think about that, kid? I’ve had my doubts...But I think, Vincent left you alive on purpose.”
“I didn’t question him then. I thought...fuck, Vincent is twisted to carve him up so jagged. Less care then for the animals he guts. But no. He knew what he was doing right?” Han’s lip quivers. “But after a few years, I started to question it. I was curious. And here you are answering my question. Scratching my itch..” He lifts the glass again in a salute fashion before downing the rest in one gulp. Han’s eyes pricked with tears, the thundering of his heart loud against his ears; the air tensing along with his body. “Call it fate, God, karma or whatever bullshit you believe in. But Vinny-” Conrad shook a fat finger and squinted an eye as he spoke. “he ain’t done with you.” Han’s stomach dropped, catching his heart that squeezed at the chill that ran through him. “It’s been a few years, but that won’t change loyalty, huh? I mean after all...you were his favorite.”
“Fuck you.” Han spat he’s fist’s opening to hands ready to strike. Con just laughs and eggs him on.
“The prodigal son returns! Older, wiser-”
Han shoved Con’s body towards the bar and smashes his face into the wood surface, causing a scene. Conrad’s groan turned into a hearty chuckle. “I’m sorry, kid. Did I strike a chord? My mistake.” Han knew it was all for show and he could have easily twisted his way out and finished what Vincent started right here in the club. But he took Han’s abuse in stride. “If you want me to leave, Han Shin. All you had to do was ask.” The bouncer had rested his hands on Han’s bunched shoulders, politely removing him from Con. Han stepped back blinking back the tears that had all but spilled as Conrad moved towards the exit. “I’ll give him your best, shall I?”
