Gusley's Error
Flash Fiction
A submission for Iron Age Media’s prompt: The Lounge
In the hollowed out halls of the senatorial office turned bar, the words of a local radio station frustrated the ears of the few occupants that were present.
“This just in from the office of CEO Gregory Tans, namesake company stock has seen a 15% decrease in the past two weeks, the disgruntled chief says he’ll take the company private after what he called quote ‘An ischemic attack on our company by proxy!’ end quote. Stay tuned for more breaking news, here on Stopple radio, pulling the cork out of all the important stories.”
A man seated at the edge of the bar groaned a bitter tune, his despondent vocals matching the arrival of the aptly titled “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” spilling out of the radio which elicited the aforementioned boredom couched in absinthe and cigarette smoke.
“What’s wrong? Green fairy mad at you again tonight?” asked the waitress in a plaid dress.
After not so much as looking at her, the woman delivered a few extra dishes of pumpkin pie to the booth just behind the man’s dungeon he had carved out for himself on the bar, and she lifted a heeled foot to knock the stool, forcing his attention, at least enough to prevent his own fall.
“Gus! You’re not sleepwalking again are you?” taunted the waitress.
“To you, it’ll always be Gusley. I never wanted to drink more than those times, when some poor soul calls me Gus like they’re my mother.”
Gus takes a hefty drag from a newly lit cigarette, the successor to three tonight, before further remarking: “The green fairy is just fine by the way. The only woman with class in this joint.”
The waitress’ face would boil with a furious heat, her beat-red expression threatening to blow, but she decided to take the high road and depart from the bar to calm down in the evening twilight instead.
“I’d feel bad for the girl, but she always asks the wrong questions.” said the elderly bartender who had resorted to cleaning a glass or two, his eyes glued to a newspaper Gusley had planted down next to his ashtray.
“I agree.” grumbled Gusley. “The question she should’ve asked me was ‘Did the last job meet your expectations. Particularly when it comes to getting paid.’ Right?” Gusley deadpanned.
Gusley’s amber eyes narrowed in on the bartender, his palm, pinky and silver-laden ring finger working together to lift up the newspaper in front of the bartender while his thumb and index finger remained glued to the glass of absinthe he nursed from.
“AUGUSTUS DAM DESTROYED,
MULTIPLE BUSINESSES IN TURMOIL,
INVESTORS SEEK LEGAL RECOURSE.” read the Newspaper.
“Wilson, you and I both know I wasn’t paid for all this collateral.”
The bartender: Wilson, let out a nervous guffaw as his hands recovered the newspaper and promptly put it under the bar, out of sight: out of mind. His aching jaw peeled open far enough to say
“You… were paid to depose the lead Engineer of the dam, who favored Gregory Tans and friends with surplus power. Who were we to know Gregory had a contingency plan if he lost a very friendly insider? It’s not every day that someone decides to blow up their own dam.” Wilson asked nonchalantly. And then the green fairy won her battle with Gusley’s rationality.
CRASH!
Gusley lost it: slamming the bar with his metal right hand and sundering the top layer in the process. He sat at the edge of bars and not in the center of them for a reason.
“That’s damn unprofessional Wilson, and you know it. Pick that newspaper back up and read the second line, to you it’s an unforeseen contingency, to Mr. Tans, it’s an easily recouped 15% via street bloodshed. Know what it is to me?! A lost arm, ‘career’ uncertainty, and a damned big headache if I happen to have family in the area.”
Wilson looked aghast for a split-second before grimacing. “You could’ve told us that she still lived down there. So how is she anyway? Your robber baron of a mother?” Wilson asked, in a vain attempt to smooth things over.
Gusley’s lips were firmly pressed against the tip of another cigarette, a nearby patron helped him light it, either out of courtesy or out of fear. Once smoke had rotated around him yet again like a halo, he calmed down enough to answer Wilson’s question. “She’s experimenting as per usual. Rumor is she found some science prodigy to help her goal of trying to revive some Gorgonopsian from the Permian age. Depending on how far along they were, you and your crew may have another war on your hands.” Gusley said, pulling free some delight from the thought.
Wilson took a deep breath, sitting down to relax his aching bones. “We can only hope it remains cold outside.”