Redhot Sugar by Connor Peterson

Author:Connor Peterson [Peterson, Connor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Casual Disaster Press

Garrett sat across from Clinton, lost in the sensation that somehow, it felt like he’d been there before. As much as he tried to cobble together when he might have been last, he couldn’t come up with any time he’d darkened the doorstep. Especially not since the basement had become a speakeasy hidden behind a moveable wall-panel.

Clinton brought them two glasses, one with gin and the other, whiskey. Sitting across from Garrett, who had already lit a cigarette, he slid the whiskey over and stared at him in silence for a moment. Whatever reason Clinton had for bringing them there, Garrett couldn’t help but wonder if this was a detour from the night’s intentions.

“Your girl came around recently and caused a stir in the club,” Clinton said, sitting sideways on the chair and crossing his legs. Resting one arm on the chair’s back, his other hand held the gin, but Clinton didn’t drink from the glass. The way he held Garrett hostage with his eyes made Garrett squirm inside. “You send her there looking for information?”

Garrett laughed, tapping ash from the end of his cigarette in the tray. “She had the idea to come there all on her own,” he said. “Trust me when I say that my way of keeping tabs on people isn’t to blurt out the fact that I’m there.”

Surrendering to a smirk, Clinton looked away. “It made a statement, though, let me tell you. Whatever she had going on in her head, she committed to it.” He finally sipped from his drink. “Had to respect that.” He drifted off, seeming to chew on a thought, and Garrett sat in silence to let him. When he looked at Garrett again, Clinton frowned. “I don’t know how much of a game I’m supposed to be playing here.”

As much as he hated hearing Alice’s voice in his head, Garrett found himself repeating her words. “There’s no game unless you try to make one,” Garrett said, “and even then, you’re only playing against yourself.” When Clinton furrowed his brow, Garrett sighed. “Long-winded way of saying we’re both playing poker and neither of us is fooling the other. There is a reason why Melody made the spectacle, even if I didn’t tell her to.”

Clinton nodded. He set down his drink and reached in his jacket for his cigarettes. “Want to tell me what that reason is?”

“We both lost a whole night and came home with marks on us.” Garrett pointed his cigarette at Clinton. “You’re the last thing I remember about that night. Won a fight. Had a pocket full of dough from it. And then, woke up back at the cathouse with Melody just as forgetful.”

“And you think I had something to do with it?”

“Yeah, I do.” Taking one last puff from the end, Garrett reached to extinguish the cigarette and Clinton lingered with his case still in hand. Most of Garrett’s whiskey disappeared in one swallow, as though he needed the courage to continue. “I mean you could tell me you didn’t,” Garrett said.

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