“I have all your attentions,” Sam said confidently, rocking back
in his chair and enjoying his cigar. The smoke surrounded him like a
mystical aura, his charisma lingering in the humid summer night.
The sign outside Merle Early’s bar still read “OPEN” but there
was no usual business occurring inside on this particular late June night.
Sam Taylor reclined in an old wooden chair while Mr. Leonetti slept
across from him. Eddie Coyle sat at the bar with his head buried in his
folded arms. Joe DeNardo and Frank McIntyre drank straight from a
bottle of bourbon in an attempt to assuage their fears and concerns.
Merle was still presumably out cold in the kitchen; Virgil was sweep