The Hair of the Dog that Bit You(open)

[Kenneth Byers]

Ken woke up with a start. It was already well into the afternoon. His head was pounding and his body ached. He seemed to remember drinking a good amount of cheap booze the night before, but that was every night. He rolled out of bed and dragged himself to his dresser and threw some clothes on, just a white button down shirt and some black slacks. He pulled a comb through his hair before staggering into the bathroom and vomiting. He groaned and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before flushing the toilet.

He washed his face and hands, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and exited his home. Son of a bitch, I need a drink... He though to himself as he slowly walked down the street. The bright sun hurt his eyes and he wanted to get to the bar as quickly as possible. He finally made it to the Cafe situated above the speakeasy. He flashed the pin that allowed access to the basement and the secret door opened. He shambled down the steps into the smoky room that smelled of cheap alcohol, cigarettes and sweat. His favorite smell in the world.

He grabbed a seat at the bar and lit a cigarette and deeply inhaled before blowing the grayish blue smoke back out. "Give me a shot of whiskey." He said to the bartender with his heavy New York accent. The barkeeper eyed him over and replied, "I think you had enough last night." Ken scowled and retorted harshly, "I didn't ask for any lip, I asked for a goddamn drink." The bartender shook his head but poured the brown liquid into a shot glass and slid it to Ken. He nodded and picked the glass up. "Hair of the dog..." he mumbled to himself and let the fiery liquid slide down his throat.

[Kenneth Byers]

Ken took another deep drag from his cigarette and sighed, smoke billowing out his mouth and nostrils. His hangover was beginning to subside, but he needed another drink to get rid of it entierly. He pointed to his empty glass and the bartender went to refill it. "Make it double." The bartender paused and put the shot glass below the counter with the rest of the dirty glasses and pulled out a whisky sniffer and poured two shots into the glass. Ken weakly thanked him and quickly downed his drink.

The alcohol burned all the way down and set a fire in his stomach that almost made him gag. He ran a hand through his hair and roughly shook his head before slamming the empty glass on the bar. He took a drag from his cigarette and crushed in out into an ashtray, the embers smoldering until they burned themselves out.

Ken felt like someone was looking at him. It was the strange feeling you got, the one where the back of your neck tingled and you were hit by a wave of paranoia. He slowly spun himself on the barstool and leaned on the bar with his elbows and scanned the room. There was no one, but then he saw her. There was a young girl, maybe nineteen at the most, standing alone across the room. She was pale and had long red hair, she looked like she could be Irish like he was. He didn't know but he didn't really care either, race wasn't a big factor for him. Not a bad looking dame... He thought to himself.

He stood up and walked over to her, "Are you ok, Miss?" He asked, she looked lost, and maybe even a little scared.

[Kenneth Byers]

Ken was a little surprised at her reaction. She seemed much more frightened than she needed to be. He chuckled a bit and smiled charmingly at her. He noticed that she was definitely not from around here. She didn't have the southern accent, she sounded like she was eastern european or something like that. It was good to see someone that wasn't from this part of the country, he always felt a little out of place with his New York accent.

Up close he noticed that she was prettier than she was from far away. She also had a look of innocence about her, something that hinted that she wasn't used to this kind of environment. That made him happy, that little bit of knowledge that everyone in the world wasn't as twisted and corrupt as he was.

"There's no need to be so afraid. We're all friends here." He said to her and waved a hand at the empty bar. By now his hangover was fully gone. He nodded towards a table. "Why don't you sit down and have a drink with me. I'm a little lonely and could use the company." He said with another charismatic smile. He called to the barkeeper, "Hey! Another double and a cocktail for the girl, nothing too strong." He went to the bar and took the drinks, his a deep brown liquid in a whisky sniffer and hers a light pink drink, he imagined rum based, in a martini glass. He sat them at a table and held a chair out for her,

"You're not from here are you?"

[Kenneth Byers]

Ken sipped at this drink, not taking it with the same speed he had downed the others. "Poland huh? Thats interesting." He commented over the rim of his glass. He took one final sip before setting on the counter. "Me, I'm from New York." He replied. So they were indeed both outsiders here. Not that he minded being from out of town, in fact he had needed to leave New York or face some dire consequences. But that was a conversation for another time.

Suddenly he realized he hadn't even introduced himself. "Where are my manners? I'm Kenneth Byers, at your service. And you are?" He smiled at her again and waited for a reply. She might tell him a fake name, but he didn't mind that, he just wanted to be able to call her something.

[Kenneth Byers]

Ken replied, "Glad to meet you." He picked his glass up and took a swig from it and decided to just kill. He emptied the glass and swallowed the mouthful of whisky and placed the empty glass on the bar, which was immediately picked up by the bartender who began to clean it. "Anything else?" He asked. Ken shook his head, "Nah, that's all for now."

His head was beginning to spin and he felt lighter, and more likely to fall. He felt talkative, which was unfortunate as Malina did not seem to be. "You alright? You seem nervous or something." He said to her as he sat back down.

[Kenneth Byers]

It wasn't that he didn't want to talk, he just didn't have much to say. He was used to drinking with people who liked to talk, but Malina was a quiet one.

Ken laughed. "Sir? Call me Ken." He smiled as she asked the time and reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, beat up pocket watch. It was the first one he ever stole. He pressed the button and it snapped open and he looked at the time. "It is quarter til five. Got a date?" He asked jokingly with another smile. He slid the watch back into his pocket.

He realized how long he had been passed out for, almost fourteen hours. And knowing him the same would happen tonight.

[Kenneth Byers]

"Ah, I see." Ken replied to her mentioning of the Sabbath. "I had a few jewish friends in New York when I was younger, we always hated that they had to be in by sundown on a friday." It was true, where he grew up it was a mix of everything, jews, catholics, blacks, hispanics, you name it he grew up with at least one of them. He supposed that it was a good thing, it kept him from being prejudiced against anyone.

"Dance? Well I suppose I could." He said with a smile as he stood up and walked to the area of the speakeasy that was made for such a thing. It was too early for any live music, that sort of thing didn't usually start until ten. "You mind putting something on the Victrola?" He called to the bartender who grunted and put a record onto the player. At first it was scratchy but then music began to come through clearly. It was an upbeat jazz tune and he smiled. He turned to Malina, "This music suit you?"

[Kenneth Byers]

Ken chuckled. "I wouldn't let your mother hear you say that." He replied with a smile. He agreed with her, true. He went to a Catholic church for the first ten years of his life and he hated every second of it. But he would never let his mother know, she might have him burned at the stake for such blasphemy.

"Well then I suppose that this is your kind of music." He said as he put his arms around Malina's waist and began to move with the music, leading her to move with him.

[Kenneth Byers]

((Lol, fiddler on the roof rules, and I can see the resemblance.))

Ken smiled. "Music tends to have that effect." He replied. He liked listening to Polish and Russian music just as much as he liked American jazz, because their music was filled with emotion and when you listened you took on the mood of their music, usually melancholy or sad.

They danced, moving their feet and bodies in time with the music without missing a beat, until the record scratched to an end. Ken let go of Malina, which almost made him sad for a reason he couldn't quite explain to himself, but he gave her a charming smile and bow grandly. When he stood upright again he chuckled.

He made his way back to the bar and quickly had another shot. That was the one that would put him over the edge from buzzed to tipsy, he would just be a little more charming (at least in his mind!) and a little less coordinated. He considered ordering her another but saw there was still some in her first glass. He pulled out his pocketwatch and glanced at it. It was only quarter after six, they still had some time before she needed to be home.

"Want to get something to eat with me? There's a good deli down the street." He asked and he pulled a cigarette out and struck a match. He light the paper and inhaled as the tobacco began to burn. "They sell kosher stuff." He added, smoke coming out of his mouth in puffs with each syllable.

[Kenneth Byers]

He put the glass on the counter. "Oh, well then perhaps some other time." He replied and took another drag on his cigarette. He turned away from her to exhale to avoid blowing it into her face. "Then shall I escort you home?" He asked charmingly.

Before she could answer he had put ten dollars onto the counter. Enough to pay for the drinks and give the bartender a large tip. He nodded at the bartender, took a final hit from the white stick in his hand and slammed it into the ashtray to put it out. He turned back to Malina and smiled and walked towards the staircase and motioned for her to come with him.

[Kenneth Byers]

Ken nodded, "I understand." He led her up the stairs and through the Cafe and followed her down the street towards her house. He really did understand, who would want their daughter hanging around with a guy like him. He was older than her, strike one. He was an alcoholic that hung around speakeasies all day, strike two. He had spent time in prison and made his living off of the illegal alcohol trade, strike three. He was out.

He sighed and rand a hand through his hair. He wondered if she even wanted to associate with him. It was almost likely that she didn't, she seemed a little to classy for a guy like him. He did his best not to look sad though. "So, what do you do? A student around here?" He asked trying to break the silence, but he immediately realized his mistake, she would answer then want to know what he did.

[Kenneth Byers]

((Its cool, it happens to the best of us.))

That was the question he was dreading. If he answered truthfully it would most likely mean that the two of them would have no further contact. She didn't seem like the type that wanted to know criminals. But if he lied she would eventually find out, which would hurt both of them more because they had time to get to know each other. He sighed and went with the truth.

"Me? I transport and sell alcohol." He said simply like everyone did that sort of thing. "I believe the layman's term is a 'bootlegger'". He smiled at her, and in his mind he imagined that it would be the last time he would.

[Kenneth Byers]

He wasn't surprised by her reaction, thats how most people reacted. He laughed at the idea of an office job, "That kind of work doesn't pay nearly as well as the business that I'm in." He quickly realized that this probably wasn't the explanation that she wanted to hear.

"I'm the son of poor immigrants. My mother died when I was ten, giving birth to my brother. My dad was a deadbeat," He almost shuddered with contempt at the mention of his father, "so I had to get a job to support me and my brother. When you're ten years old finding a job is hard work, so I fell in with the wrong people. They got me into crime and that's all I've ever known. So when prohibition rolled around and people got to thinking that just because it's illegal doesn't mean people won't drink, I hopped on that money train. Been doing it ever since." He finished his story of how he got into bootlegging and looked at her, waiting for a reaction.