Very few people from out of town visited Diablerie. On occasion, a few tourists or a group from the university braved the ominous atmosphere. The bar catered to the regulars. This Friday night was an exception. Several businessmen from town came in after work, still wearing their fancy suits. Their smug looks never lessened as they claimed a table and approached the bar.“The name’s Dale, doll face. We’ll start a tab.” He handed me his fancy platinum card while his arrogant eyes scanned my body. “What are you doing hiding way out here, my beauty?”“What can I get you and your friends?”“Grey Goose dirty martini...”“For named brands, we have the five J’s: Jim, Jack, Jonnie, Jose, and Jägermeister—no fancy city glasses, just shot, highball, and beer.”“What do you recommend?”“For you? The Tunnel Bar in the City.”“Cute. Send a tray over. There are five of us.” I nodded, but Uncle Harris shot me a dirty look. He didn’t want me moving from behind the bar. I loaded my tray with five shot
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