The bar was dimly lit. Cigarette smoke was seen throughout the bar, ashes were seen in each ash tray as they sat plainly on the dark red tables. As he moved from the front of the bar to the back, he found his friend flirting with the bar's newest bartender. He grabbed a stool and set it down on the peanut shell covered floor. The conversation between his buddy and the bartender wrapped up, as she eyed him down. Don't bother, he thought.
"Nice girl. I still got that charm I guess. Looks like the harshness of New York crime hasn't gotten to me yet." The men let out a chuckle. One sipped a beer; the other pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his knuckle. He motioned his finger to the bartender, who slid him a beer from the other side of where they were sitting. He took a sip and set it back down. He pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear and lit it- the glow from the barely lit tip added a small amount of glisten in his eyes. "She still messin' with your brain?"
He ignored the question and tapped the smoked ashes into a close-by ash tray and set down his cigarette, taking another sip of his Samuel Adams. He turned to look at his friend and asked him a similar question. "Is she still messin' with yours?"
The other man smiled and tilted his eyebrows in a confused manner. "What the hell are you sayin'? You know I wouldn't do that to you. She's your girl. The moment you saw her you were into her. I wouldn't do that to a friend. Don't put that on me."
"You better stop lyin' to me now." He pulled out an off-white envelope from his leather jackets pocket and took out a neatly folded piece of stationary paper covered front and back in perfect print writing. "She wrote me this." He threw it at the other man. He slowly opened it, afraid of what he would read about himself.
"She was confused. I told her to talk to me if she needed anything." The man with the glasses said to his friend as he quietly read the note. "Then, I read this note and I find out she fucks my best friend." He looked at the other man straight in the eyes, his white fang-like teeth showing in his rage.
"Is that what you wanted to tell me? That I fucked your girl?" His blue eyes pierced the other man with regret and hurt, but at the same time superiority. "She came to me. I helped her out. I did what she wanted me to do. Sounds familiar, no?" He got up and walked to the door and left. Pushing up his glasses, the other ran after him and stopped him in the street.
"Aiden was different. She played both of us because that was who she was. Those nights were one night stands and you know it."
"Lindsay wasn't anything more to me, than Aiden was to you, a friend with goddamn benefits." He snapped at him, his voice rising, "And you're wrong about Aiden and me, she was my world, just like Lindsay is yours. The nights Aiden and I spent together meant something and you know it." They continued down the sidewalk. "You know, people think that since we're New York's finest we'd have some kind of decency level," He chuckles. "Messer, you and I are a couple of fuckin' ass-holes who sleep with our co-workers 'cause we can't seem to find that one girl." He turned to face Danny. Flack felt the coldness of a winter fist hit the side of his jaw, and he stumbled onto the side of the buildings wall.
"That's for sleepin' with Lindsay." He said stretching out his knuckles.
He shook his head and said with a hint of disappointment in his voice, "If it makes you feel better Danno, when I hit her spot, she was yellin' out your name."