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[ chapter four ]
S2 E5: Simon Said
BEFORE I KNEW IT, it was morning again, the light filtering in through the crack in my curtains.
I get out of bed, changing into another pair of dark jeans and a baggy, oversized shirt, mentally preparing myself for another shift, and possibly, another encounter with an asshole. I pick up the latest case, the Philadelphia one, and take it with me.
Just as I walk into the main bar area, I hear Ellen call out to Jo.
"Jo! Go pull up another case of beer."
"Mom..."
"Now, please?" Jo huffs as she walks off to grab those beers. I head over to Ellen and slip her the case without any on-lookers noticing.
It's only then I notice that the Winchester boys are back for a visit. Unwillingly, my pulse picks up at the sight of them, my heart telling me to go over to them but my head telling me to stay put.
Obeying my head, I stay where I am, resting against the bar and watching Ellen herself walk over to the boys. She seems to be interrogating them, but from where I am resting, I can't hear what they are saying. It seems important though. Probably for the best that I don't get involved though. Winchester's equal trouble.
Jo comes back from grabbing the beers from the back and stands next to me.
"So, what are we looking at?" She asks, wiggling her eyebrows. "Sam's looking fine today, isn't he?" She nudges my shoulder with hers, nodding her head in the direction of the boys.
I huff with amusement, shaking my head slightly. "Nah, I'm just watching. Seems to be important."
She nods her head, her mother then addressing her.
"Jo, honey. You'd better break out the whiskey instead." She goes to get the whiskey, leaving me standing by myself.
The rest of the day passes by like usual, with customers coming and going, and quiet spells in between.
Well, it was quiet until Jo and Ellen begin to fight. Their monotonous back and forth straining my ears. It's been a long day at work anyway, without having to listen to all the shouting. I glance up at the clock hanging at the back of the bar, seeing it to be only 9:47 in the morning. I resist the urge to pull out all my hair while continuing to wipe down the glass in my hand, before placing it down a little too harshly onto the wooden countertop. The loud noise barely registering in either Harvelle's ears.
