She’s hot, thought Jankowski. News anchors are always hot, sure, but she was really hot. Clare her name was. I like Clare.

He wiped the bar as the anchor continued talking about the news of the day, the few locals in all turned to catch up on events. His belly now just about touched the wood as he leant to wipe the other side. Fat fuck, he thought to himself. He adjusted the plastic label on one of the pumps but it still hung loose. Piece of shit. He gave a look up to the photo of his father serving in Vietnam he had framed above him. Noticed a slight crack in it. Everything seems to be slightly broken these days. 

Another night in another bar in Roxbury. What a fucking dump, why Dad bought a bar here I will never know.

He looked up as the door opened. In walked a skinny, bookish kid whose eyes danced round all about him. It was only when he smiled did Jankowski see the longer teeth at either side. The others noticed too. The background chatter dimmed and there was the creaking of chairs where the patrons turned to check out the v. 

The kid walked over to the bar. He leant his hand on it, then his elbow, then decided better of it and just stood near it. Smooth, kid. Jankowski looked at him, waiting on his order.

“A vampire walks into a bar, right?” The kid was overselling the joke. No-one was buying, “The barman says ‘why the long teeth?’”

Jesus. You are not making this easy on yourself.

Kowalski decided to throw him a bone, “We don’t serve plas here.”

The kid’s face lit up, seemingly delighted to be spoken to when he had started the conversation, “Good. I was looking for a nice local ale. Like, maybe a nutty, foamy, ale?”

To describe the reactions in the bar as cold would be doing them a disservice. They were baltic.

“We got Bud.”

“No that’s. Yep. I’ll have one.”

Jankowski got to pouring as the locals slowly turned back to their news, the kid seemed to breathe in again.

As the beer was placed on the bar, the kid nodded his appreciation, “Hi, I’m Nik.”

Jankowski nodded. Ok.

He went to get change as Nik took his first sup as the voice of the hot chick on TV seemed to cut across the bar.

“And of course the ensigns around the vampigration debate have been heightened today by the letting attack in Strasbourg, Belgium.”

All eyes in the bar were on the screen, blood on the pavements, police cordons up, crowds laying wreaths and crying, the works.

Shitty timing kid.

Nik decided to break the silence.

“Can I have some peanuts as well?”

“Sure.”

Jankowski leant down to grab the snack and the anchor continued.

“A local politician was reportedly the target of the letting but the attack was foiled, not without injury to some members of the public and the death of the two vampires who undertook it.”

Jankowski slid the packet of nuts over the bar, took the kid’s money and went to get change. 

When he got back the kid was chomping away and took the change off him. “Thank you. It’s always nice to have another man’s peanuts in my mouth.”

Jankowski stared at him. That was pretty funny. He couldn't help but crack a smile. The kid smiled back. Maybe this guy won’t get killed here after all.

Again the anchor’s voice cut through, “The Belgian authorities are currently following up leads on who led the cell and possible links to The Coven.”

“Fucking v’s” It was hard to make out who he voice belonged to but the words cut Nik to the quick. Jankowski saw him slowly sink into his seat.

He grabbed the remote from under the bar and changed the TV to the football.

The locals bitched and moaned but Jankowski didn’t even look up, “I had enough of the news, too Goddamned depressing.”

Again they bitched and moaned but Jankowski just leaned on the bar, looking solidly over in their direction, “There are other bars, go watch it there you love it so much.”

The grumbling subsided and slowly, one by one, they began watching the football instead.

Jankowski went back to wiping the bar.

He made eye contact with Nik, now taking a long draft of his beer.

Nik nodded his thanks to the bar man. Jankowski nodded back at the v in his bar.

Just another Monday night in Roxbury.

----------

INSUFFICIENT FUNDS.

The ATM blinked at Connor.

“Fuck you”, he whispered as it returned it’s card to him, he hunched his shoulders up and pulled his collar closer to his neck. Another cold one.

He strode past the boarded up dry cleaners and an old phone accessory shop as a flash of neon caught his eye. 

Jankowski’s.

Shitty bar. Shitty night, but what the hell? 

He dug into his pocket as he crossed the road.

A couple of dollar bills and some change.

Not enough for a beer. Not here anyways.

He continued down the road, again cursing his misfortune in the financial stakes.

I’ll go to the liquor store instead. Fuck drinking in bars anyway. Who needs it? Fucking no-one.