Chapter Text
The tassels on Demi’s leather jacket blew along in the wind as she ducked behind a corner and into an alleyway. A sign was spray-painted over a door in bright red that read ‘Bourbon’s Bar.’ The entrance to her bar was hidden from the public and only specific people who frequented the bar that she trusted were really given permission to enter the building. She always made a good amount of money from their unhealthy drinking habits.
As she scanned the symbol on her synthetic metal arm, the door beeped quietly to indicate being unlocked, and it opened for her. She tipped the dark brown cowboy hat down over her eyes as she entered the building and made her way behind the bar’s main area. Nobody sat at the stools up at the front yet, and the only other person who was there was cleaning up some of the tables with a dirty rag.
“Mornin’, Jose!” Demi called out to the man, who turned his head up to look at the woman and flashed her an excited grin.
“Welcome home, Demi! You openin’ this place up later?”
Jose Baden. A good friend that she made a while back when she first opened up her bar. He was the first person to frequent the place, and they both quickly became very close the more he visited. Not too long after, she hired him when she needed someone to help her out with the management. They’re almost like siblings at this point. Jose helps out and gets his pay, Demi makes the money she needs to keep the place open. It’s a win-win situation. And their popular drink, Dovlin, was most loved by their customers. Most of their revenue was made off of that.
“Damn right I am! You gotta clean up the back, too, mister,” she teased, having made her way over to him and flicking his head playfully.
Jose snorted at the flick and brushed his hair back with his metal hand and replied, “Already did before ya got here. We expectin’ miss Margaretha later?”
“As usual. Said she’d be busy dealin’ with Smiley’s issues if she comes in late, though. That girl never misses a drink.”
The two shared a laugh at Demi’s comments about Margaretha Zelle. She was a good friend of the woman’s as well. Little ol’ Margie used to work at one of the clubs that her husband owned before she divorced him. Now she drinks her heart out at Bourbon’s Bar whenever she gets the chance. Such a kind young lady that found comfort in Demi’s presence and made a few friends while drinking there.
“Oh, yeah,” Jose started, dropping the rag into the bucket of water that sat on the floor, “Miss Violetta dropped off somethin’ for ya. Might wanna take a look at it before we open up.”
Demi rolled her eyes and groaned, “For real? Hell does she want now? She knows I paid my damn rent for this area a week ago. That damn spider..”
She scowled beneath the hat, which shadowed most of her face, but Jose could tell that Demi was pissed. Any letter from the city’s council meant trouble, and neither of the two wanted to deal with that. Most of them were signed by Xie Bi’an and Fan Wujiu, but Violetta? Even if she wasn’t the most intimidating, the way she presented as a human spider with six prosthetic legs and two arms as pincers could be seen as disturbing. Of course, she knew it made people uncomfortable or even scared children, but she didn’t care. Violetta’s “The Human Spider” performances were popular in the downtown part of the city and enjoyed by a different audience.
Upon finding and reading the letter in front of Jose, Demi’s fingers bent and crumpled the paper slowly. She found that her metal hand was beginning to tear the paper with its claws, but she couldn’t hide her anger. What did Violetta mean by a “lease”? Demi already owned most of the area where her bar was located! She bought that land using the money she made and now the council wanted to take it away?
“Antoinette’s their secretary, yeah?” she asked stiffly, eyes shifting from the paper to Jose’s irritated face.
“Yeah. What, do ya want me to call in for a meeting?” he replied. He could see the anger in Demi’s eye, even the cyborg one glowed a brighter red than usual. The letter most certainly was bad news.
“A meeting at the council hall? Nah, call in and ask for someone to come here. I wanna talk to them about this damn letter. It makes no sense.”
This situation made Demi want to grind her teeth into powder. Not only would it add onto the stress of managing and cleaning the bar every morning and night, but if she lost everything she worked hard for… Maybe that wasn’t best to think about. It’ll only fuel her anger even more.
Demi took off her cowboy hat and placed it down at the bar, going behind the counter and grabbing a bottle of whiskey off of the shelf. She pulled out the cork and pressed her lips to the opening of the bottle, then took a long swig. It isn’t too ironic for a bartender to also be a drunk, is it?
“Damn it,” she hissed angrily, “this is such bullshit. Council’s always tryna get in my business when I don’t need ‘em.”
Jose cracked his knuckles as he stepped towards the bar and watched the woman drink away her anger. He knew how much Demi hated the council. Because the bar didn’t have many gadgets to appear more modern, less people preferred it. It was the old western style of the place that the council disliked. They’ve had many disagreements about the bar in the past about changing it up so they can get more customers, but Demi always said that she liked how it was. It’s been a challenge to keep the business up and running with the council trying to rip it away from them. Now the council was making up excuses to try and close the bar down if Demi refused to cooperate.
“Didn’t they say they wanted to build a teleport waypoint here?” Jose asked, leaning against the bar. Demi groaned and slammed the bottle on the floor and watched it shatter. Whiskey spread across the floor beneath her.
“Yeah. But they know that even if I let them build it, I don’t have the funds that they’d force me to pay for allowing them to use my property. Margie and Luca’s habits of coming here can’t feed our budgets, either. It’s barely enough to get by another month with this place. Hell, we’re lucky enough to have a damn living space upstairs. I can barely afford any of it. But we can’t just close down, can we?”
She sifted through the shelves beneath the bar and grabbed a rag to soak up the mess she made on the floor with her broken glass shards and spilled alcohol. It’s been a stress habit to break something if she was angry, and the council getting in her way was enough to set her off in mere seconds. The bar might look rather old, but that’s the aesthetic she likes. The rest of the businesses in the city even had cyborgs as waiting staff in restaurants or their receptionist was replaced by an AI to make processing go by faster. But Demi’s bar? It had none of that new technology. That’s what set her apart from all of the other businesses, but people still enjoyed drinking there for the Dovlin.
The red light in her cyborg eye flashed a few times before stopping. This quickly gave Demi a headache. Having just a few modifications to her body made her joints or head ache, but not much can be done if the council doesn’t care. That’s just how it works. If something malfunctions, you go to the Balsa Repairs shop five blocks from Bourbon’s Bar. Nothing is cheap, though. Fixing machinery and prosthetics is expensive because it can take hours or even days. At least Luca Balsa and Tracy Reznik know how to repair things. They always made a good team at the head of prosthetic repairs in the city and are given funds by the council to stay open and fix things for others. Picking favourites.
“So what’re we gonna do ‘bout the council? Persuade them to let us keep the bar as is?”
“Nah, nothin’ ‘bout that. If they won’t listen to our complaints, I’m calling them down here.”
Jose’s eyes widened at Demi’s confidence. How could she be so sure that any of the council members would be willing to go speak to them in person? Does she not realize what could happen? This can be dangerous and she’s already digging her grave! Maybe she should rethink her plan. But he was too stuck in his own anxiety to notice Demi pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing the council's secretary number.
The ringtone was what startled Jose out of it. But the phone up to Demi’s ear and waiting for someone to pick up terrified him. This was a bad idea, he could feel it. She’s making a terrible mistake without even thinking about it! He wished that she would put her phone back in her pocket, but she didn’t. The voice that perked up on the other side of the call made him flinch.
“Good morning! This is Grace. How can I be of assistance today?” spoke the woman on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, ‘bout that letter that Violetta sent me.. I wanna have a word with you. 83 Jack’s Berry Street in thirty minutes. Bourbon’s Bar. This is damn important and I expect you to take this seriously.”