The Whiskey Files

ONE

"Last call was an hour ago, Salem. Am I calling a cab for you or what? We're closed?"

Salem roused to the sound of Benny Holt hollering from one end of the bar. The old familiar scent of stale cigarettes and whiskey brought him back to the real world inside of The Drunken Rose. The old bar was something of a dive, dimly lit and musky. Everything was wooden and shou sugi ban burned cherry wood from the bar to the floor to the round wooden tables that were scattered everywhere except for the small stretch of mock dance floor in front of the jukebox.

It was quiet, as the music had been turned off and all the patrons, except for Salem King had been kicked out for the night.

He had been having that dream again. The one where Susanna was smiling at him and saying his name so sweetly. It had been from that day that he had finally worked his charm and she had stopped being so brash with him; though he had loved it when she had been brash. He loved it more when she said his name, though.

"I was having a good dream." He complained, turning his head in the opposite direction like he could chase the dream and catch it.

Before he knew it, the glass his hand was holding was yanked out from him and it caused a thud of his head upon the bar-top. He sat up a bit, dazed and drunk, looking at the stoned features of the bar tender who seemed to be having none of it.

"Last call was an hour ago. You owe me $53 dollars, Sal. I'm not holding open tabs any more for you, remember? Close out. Am I calling you a cab or what?"

"No. I can walk."

Salem was fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. Looking through the cash there was within. Noting there wasn't much, barely enough to pay for his drinks for the night. What little he had always went to booze. Perhaps the reason why Benny not wanting to leave open the tabs anymore; he was having trouble closing out most nights.

He slapped the money onto the bar top and slid his way off of the stool. The very motion reminded him just how drunk he was as the room spun slightly as he made his way out of the bar.

"Goodnight, Benny! See you tomorrow!" He had called before his face fully hit the night's cool crisp air and the door closed behind him.

This was life since everything had gone to shit. Ever since Tulley and King just became King and there had barely been any cases that had come his way. Without Tulley there wasn't any advertising and without the advertising there weren't any men wanting their women to be taken out as cheaters. Which meant that there wasn't really any money coming in.

Not that Salem cared. After losing Susanna and losing the money on that case, he found it hard to woo women, as if he had lost his touch. He used to love his job but now it was more like a chore. It didn't help that he had found himself strictly down at the bottom of a whiskey bottle almost every night since she had told him she never wanted to see him again. He hadn't just lost her, but he had lost everything else in turn. Now where was he? Walking home drunk after a long hard day of doing nothing but drinking.

One would think in a big city like Chicago that there was plenty of work, which there was. There were plenty of cases and plenty of women to con and plenty of disgruntled men who wanted to pull one over on their wives. Salem just wasn't looking. Instead, next to burning his money in booze, he had sunken a lot of it into gambling and while sometimes it paid off, other times it didn't. Which meant he owed a lot of money. Money he didn't have because he wasn't looking for work. It was a vicious cycle, one that would catch up to him.

Because the kind of money he owed to the type of people he loaned and betted with , he knew, eventually, there would be some very bad people coming after him but until then, well, he just shoved his hands into his pockets and gritted his teeth against the cold chill of the wind that was pummeling down from the North. He'd continue living his vicious cycle of shit. It was the only thing going for him without Susanna. Let them come, he had nothing else.