“Son,” he said to Virgil, “I need you to come with me.”
Virgil looked at Sam with doe-eyed innocence.
“What? Where, sir?” Virgil asked puzzled.
“Just outside for a minute,” Sam said, putting his arm around
Virgil and leading him to the door.
Joe rushed to the door, his pain seemingly having disappeared,
aided by Frank and an uncommitted, uncertain Eddie.
“You can’t do this!” Frank yelled at Sam.
Virgil shuffled along with Sam as he exchanged concerned looks
with the yelling men.
“Where are we going?” he asked Sam.
“Not far,” Sam replied.
Joe blocked the door, but Sam shoved him to the floor.
“We have to go,” Sam declared.
He and Virgil stepped out the door, which closed shut after a few
long seconds.
Joe began to weep while lying on the recently swept floor. Frank
raised his hands to his face and walked to the bar in disbelief. Eddie
looked into the mirror hanging on the wall next to the pyramid of
bottles. His eyes were red and weary.
It was two minutes after midnight when Virgil came walking
back into the bar with a prominent stride in his step. He took off his
apron and tossed it behind the counter. Only Eddie saw him return, as
Joe had passed out on the floor and Frank had fallen asleep on the bar.
A surprised and baffled Eddie leered at Virgil in suspicion; he must be a
ghost now, too.
“Where did you go, kid?” Eddie asked Virgil.
Virgil collected a few dollars from under the counter and made
his way around the bar.
“That Taylor fella is a nice guy!” Virgil exclaimed to Eddie. “He
gave me some real good advice!”
Eddie stopped Virgil from leaving again and implored him for
more answers.
“What do you mean, kid? Don’t you know who he is?” Eddie
asked.
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