It was close to midnight when Lee stepped into Leroy's diner. The fluorescent light bulbs did nothing to illuminate the dingy room that even the rats chose to avoid.
Everyone knew some higher force was responsible for the corruption of Ross County, but those in Knockemstiff blamed Leroy and his henchman Bobo. They'd given up trusting God a long time ago and began placing faith in the illustrious businessmen, eager to improve the poverty of their town. Once the conditions worsened, the most naive people claimed he was the devil. Now they steered clear of his establishments like they were plague houses. His whorehouse Tecumseh may be packed with desperate men every night, but no one dared to step foot in the diner: Leroy ate there every evening and stayed late into the night. Only those on his payroll would enter.
Lee strolled cautiously between the row of booths and the counter, anxiety bubbling in his throat. Surely Leroy wouldn't kill him with the waitress still working. No other customers were there, which reassured Lee slightly: at least no one would see his dealings with Leroy. Bobo was seated facing towards the door, for protection Lee deduced, whilst Leroy had his back exposed, an aura of arrogance filling the air around him. It would be an easy shot. No. Bobo would kill him before he even cocked his gun.
Before Lee even reached the booth, Leroy's patronising voice rang out.
"My boy, my boy," Leroy didn't even turn to look at Lee until he flipped one of the stacked bar stools and sat down at the end of their booth. "It's been a while."
"Yeah," Lee sighed, trying to calm the nerves calling for him to run out of the diner and drive as far away as possible from Leroy. The waitress soon came over, her youth reminding him of you, reminding him why he needed to appease the man in front of him.
"Whatcha having, honey?" she asked sweetly, her term of endearment falling on deaf ears.
"Coffee," Lee answered abruptly, "Ain't staying long."
He picked up the glass of water she had brought over, glancing over at the weapon Bobo was grasping in his arms.
"You got a new toy?" he took a sip of the cool liquid. Making conversation with Bobo always doused Leroy's anger. Only slightly. But slightly could mean the difference between life and death.
"It's an English firearm. It's really rare," Bobo sounded almost proud, "It's got special bullets. Untraceable."
"Untraceable," Lee repeated, a plan already forming in his mind. If he could kill them both before they killed him, he'd still be able to have a life with you - and you wouldn't need to know about any of his dirty dealings with Leroy.
A loud crash of cutlery from behind interrupted his train of thought.
"Sorry!" the waitress called out from the kitchen.
The disturbance had finally forced Leroy to turn his head and meet Lee's gaze. He went back to his meal but paused for a moment to speak.
"Word starts going around Sheriff's got his eye on the girls at Tecumseh," not a question but an accusation, "That's gonna cost me my money. Me losing money is gonna cost you your cut."
Fear glazed over his eyes. He needed that money as, call him old-fashioned, but he didn't want you to have to work. You'd expressed how much you hated working at the grocery store and he didn't want you to have to worry about your income. He wanted to be able to provide for you.
"It didn't have anything to do with you," he responded. Leroy put down his cutlery dismissively, pushing it towards Bobo.
"It does now," he sat up in an almost condescending way, "Bobo, you ever go and beat the shit outta someone I made my money off?"
