How To Make A Demon

No Means No

The following day dragged, I found myself with nothing better to do than practice and wait until my gig that evening. However, when the evening came and I made it to the speak-easy I regularly played at, I was greeted to an unfortunate circumstance.

Lee, the bar manager, he had just informed me that the club was double booked and the other musician had already arrived and set up. There was no work for me here tonight.

"Sorry, Rory. Stay for a drink though, on the house." He told me apologetically.

"Sure, sure. It's all good." I sighed.

I settled in at a small table with my cocktail and watched the other musician play on the piano. He was very good, I'd give him that, but this was my gig. I couldn't help feeling bitter as I watched him, wishing it was me up there. If only I'd arrived earlier.

All I could do now was wait. Alastor had promised he'd meet me here when he was done with his show. I hoped it wouldn't take too long.

It was around that time that a familiar, unwelcome presence intruded my space.

"Rory!" A loud and arrogant voice boomed, making me jump.

I grimaced and turned in the direction it had come from. "Hello, Carl," I said through gritted teeth. His massive frame towered over me, grinning widely and holding a half finished drink in one hand. It looked to be bourbon, and he was swaying slightly. Already drunk.

"Are you alone?" He asked, pulling out a chair and inviting himself to my table.

"Alastor will join me soon." I told him, an obvious warning.

"Ugh." He threw back the rest of his drink, not bothering to mask his distaste for my partner. He then clicked his fingers at Lee, gesturing for his drink to be replenished. My nose wrinkled at his rude entitlement.

"Where is Nichole?" I asked warily.

"She left me. Can you believe? First you and then that bimbo." He spat.

Actually, yes I could believe it. Good for her, I thought.

Carl threw back drinks, talking noisily about pointless, mundane things. As I stared at him, not getting a word in edgeways if I wanted to, all I could wonder about was what attracted me to him before. Back to when we first started dating. This grotesquely overmuscled and arrogant man was surely not who I wanted in a partner.

A short while and several drinks later, Carl was swaying and struggling to keep his balance. He almost fell from his chair multiple times and other patrons of the bar were starting to throw us concerned looks.

"Carl, I think it's time for you to leave now." I whispered.

"Hmm? Oh, okay. Let's go." He slurred his words but somehow managed to stand.

"No, I'm staying..." I started, but the way he looked at me as he rocked back and forth made me feel sorry for him. As awful as he was, I couldn't allow him to attempt the walk home. In this state, he wouldn't even make it down the street.

"I'll wait with you for a cab," I sighed, getting to my feet.

"I've called one already," Lee grumbled at us as he came to clear the empty glasses.

I nodded and threw him an apologetic glance. If Carl had cost me my regular work here, I would be more than pissed off.

It was a struggle to keep the massive man on his feet. Somehow, I got him back up the stairs, although it was a bit rocky at one point. This place was a basement bar too, which made it even more difficult to navigate the drunken oaf. Eventually we made it through the front door and we were welcomed by a cold street and dark skies. There was no moon tonight, too much cloud cover. I walked with him to the edge of the road, next to the club and in front of a dark alleyway. He kept swaying back and forth, gradually getting closer to the alleyway.