Short Story: The Devil’s Adversary Part One

WARNING: MATURE LANGUAGE, IDEAS, CONCEPTS, WHATEVER ELSE YOU CAN THINK OF THAT IS MATURE AND NEEDS A WARNING AND DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE

The Bar

“It’s like I never left,” Ricky said. “Yeah… well some things never change, but it’s all new to me,” Violina replied. The bar was packed tight. A deafening mix of voices and TV clouded judgment almost as much as the Manhattan or Bloody Mary the couple drank as the fleeting sunlight shined on them through a window. “Ya’ know I’ve always hated this place,” Ricky said. “That’s an odd emotion to display toward a place… Ya’ know,” Violina replied sarcastically. “Is it odd to love a place?” Ricky asked.

“No.”

“Then why would it be odd to hate a place?”

“I suppose it’s misplaced.”

“Its hate baby, it’s always misplaced.”

“These are from the guy in the plaid shirt at the end of the bar,” the waitress, Tiffany said placing two shots in front of Ricky and Violina. “Thank you,” Violina said smiling. The two observed the man at the bar who was eagerly staring back with a shot in his hand. “A friend of yours?”

“This motherfucker.”

“Jaaaaake!” the man yelled as the couple approached him. “What’s good my man?” Ricky replied. “Jake?” Violina…