Sasha's legacy 1. Written by: Sheri Murphy

Chapter forty five ©

Written by: Sheri Murphy © all rights reserved
Chapter forty five

At present time

Drake walked back to the railing. Gathered his things and walked over to the window of the bar. Made sure nobody was watching him. Even though Hope could make a positive identification if need be. He still would rather not have a whole bunch of people who could do that.

When Drake peered through the window he didn't see much. The bar was on the right side. The tables on the left. A few people sitting on stools in front of the television set. That was about it, besides the pool tables closer to the window. There was a sign above each door straight back on the wall. One said women and one said gents. And a man sitting at the end of the bar on a stool facing the window.

Drake checked the view through the window one more time. To make sure he wasn't missing anything. He didn't want to get cornered or not know where to go should he be recognized or something go wrong. He didn't know how well these people knew that Frank guy.

There was another door next to the guys John. But you couldn't see where it lead to. There also was an entranceway to the right after the bar. Could be where their stock was. Could be anything. He couldn't tell that either. He thought maybe it was a backdoor. That could be the situation now that he thought about it.

He looked to see if any of the people looked familiar to him. Not from this view they hadn't. Drake snuck around the side of the building. Sure enough it was a backdoor.

He pulled it and it came open slowly. It creaked once and he stopped. He didn't want or need a grand entrance. He'd rather sneak in without being noticed.

He got the door open without a whole lot of racket. Walked over and stood at the end of the bar.

The bartender was thin. Probably in his thirties. With dark brown hair and blue eyes. A thin mustache and a five o'clock shadow. His nose was a little crooked as if it had been busted a few times.

There was a snake tattoo on his forearm. He wore a long sleeve shirt but it had been rolled up to his elbows. He sported a leather vest as his heat source. Also had on blue jeans with a biker's wallet. The kind with the chain that went from the wallet to the belt loop.

He sauntered his way over to where Drake stood. Kind of in the corner in a shadow. He didn't need anymore exposure of himself.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah! Can I have a beer? I don't care what kind."

The bartender looked at him kind of strange. But reached over and grabbed a beer from within the small cooler.

"Here you go. Two fifty he said."

Drake reached into his pocket and grabbed the money. Threw it up on the bar and waited for the bartender to count it.

He took it off the counter walked over to the cash register and placed it in. Came back with two quarters and threw them on the bar in front of his beer. That's where Drake left them sit.

"Hey! You know a man named Frank who comes in here? He's got a noticeable scar about here." Drake said, as he pointed to the vicinity on his face.

The bartender put his finger into the air. As if to say, "hold on a second."
He walked over to the phone. Picked it up and spoke briefly. Hung up and walked back towards Drake.

"What do you need with Frank?" He asked, lighting a cigarette. Shaking the match to extinguish it. Then throwing it into the ashtray.

"Just have some business I need to discuss." Drake said, taking a swig of his beer. "Man! That's gross!" He thought. If anything ever reminded him that he wasn't a drinker. It was the taste of beer.