The door creaked open and the rays of light entered the floorboards, finding their way to the walled shadows that have been there since the night before. A silhouette formed among the shadows that walled it and stood there was a man. Neat and tall, he was; the stranger entered the establishment, feeling the unfamiliar eyes that followed him as he strode over to the bar. The bartender on the other side of the counter prepared the first shot of whiskey, but the man only waved him off and sat on one of the round chairs that surrounded the counter.

“What can I get you, sir?” asked the bartender, mustache, apron and all, his eyes droopy.

“A Mojito.”

Without a reply, the bartender left, leaving the stranger alone in peace. He fishes out his phone, checking if he missed any new messages. No new messages, it said across the screen. Placing the phone on the counter, he sighed. The stranger shifts in his seat, and brushed his hair with his free hand, then started tapping his foot. It was not all for the drink but something, someone else. Checking his watch, it was only half-past seven in the morning, but he was in the mood for a drink if only to calm his nerves from last night.

“Here you go sir?” said the bartender, placing the Mojito before the stranger and left.

The stranger shook his head at the quickness of the bartender, but with a smile, taking a sip of the drink before him he relaxed and the nerves started fading away. He stopped tapping his foot too if that was anything to go by. Checking his phone one last time with no updates; he places it back in his pocket.

Bored from staring at the different mixes of drinks on the shelf of the bar, the stranger shifted his attention to the people occupying the tables; they were scattered, and some inched for the corners while others slapped themselves in the center of the bar with not a care in the world. Cigarettes, it filled the air with smoke and the smell of late-night whiskey, but no one cared. That was the purpose of the establishment, and while he himself didn’t smoke, but he was glad there were places like this to just relax.

The man finished his drink, sipping uninterrupted by neither the smoke nor the murmurs of the patrons that slept in for the night before. Calling the bartender, he pays for his drink. Keep the change, he said and he went off into the morning heat that struck the patrons blind once more.

Closing the door behind him, he found himself struck by the warmth of the sun as if it stripped him naked of his clothes; the heat was all over him just as sweat trickled down on the nape of his neck. He takes out his handkerchief and wipes his neck with it. Desperately he searched for a nearby shade that would shield him from the sun and luckily a tree nearby with a log beneath it catches his eye. He approaches. He was not dressed for the heat he wagered as this part of the town was down below; it was still part of Harper’s End but this was where all the fishermen had made their mark. There were no carriages here, only boats and the stench of fish that stung him.

“Are you lost, mister?” sitting on the log, he heard a small voice; turning his attention to the speaker and taken aback there stood a squad of children before him; little boys and girls from around the ages of seven to ten. “Cause if you are, we can show you around the place.” He knew this mode of operation; kids gather around and try to show you around the area in return for money.

“It’s a little too hot for a morning tour.”

One child furrowed her brows as if the words were unfamiliar to her. They don’t take rejection very well; he thought but took out his own wallet and fished out ten dollars, giving it to the self-appointed leader of the children just so they could leave him alone.

“Thank you, mister!” the children said in unison and removed themselves from his presence. Muffled excitement followed the squad until he could hear no more.

It was only minutes later when he got up from the log and started for the inner part of the town where the stores were all stacked up side by side. There were even more stores here than there are people it looked, and the most crowded area was the fish market where all the fishermen had gathered all the fish they caught for the day. The smell of it stung his nose again. He wasn’t used to it.

“Hello stranger!” a woman greeted enthusiastically, tipping her oversized hat at him.

He nodded with a small smile, sighing as he loosened his tie.

The man soon found out that it was the only greeting he received during the day, as watchful eyes bore into him wherever he went. It didn’t help that he was more well-dressed than everyone else. More than anything, he wanted out of the town but this was the deal. Their deal, though she hasn’t shown up yet.

Everywhere he went he was met with suspicious eyes, and as tall as he was, it made him shrink in size. Checking his watch it was early still, not more than half an hour since when he left the bar then checked his phone to see if there were any new messages; none.

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“Watch out!” He heard someone cry as he saw an oncoming baseball in his direction; he stretched out an arm and catches the ball. Tossing it up in the air as he catches it again with his hand, two younger men no older than seventeen stopped before him, amazed at the older man’s prowess they just witnessed. “Great catch, mister!”

“Just be careful next time.” The man advised and started walking away.

“Wait, why don’t you teach us how to do that?” asked the second young man.

“I’m waiting for someone.” The man replied, pulling back and forth the urge to walk away that was tugging at him.

“We’ll wait with you.”

He wasn’t winning, but at least the boys were eager to learn and it was better than any greeting he had received as neither of them looked or stared at him suspiciously or watchfully as the rest had done since he’d gotten here.

He tosses the ball back to the younger man who had been eager to learn his ways, and the younger man catches it with the glove he’d had on. They did this for a while even though the flow of people had almost started traffic. There were onlookers, and they watched the older man toss the ball with ease while the younger man was too stiff in his catch.

“Relax a little.” Said the stranger who had everyone’s attention on him. Unwanted as it was, it was a lot better than earlier.

They do this a few times and the younger man started improving with his catch, graceful and relaxed, just as he had taught him. The second younger man wasn’t any different, but decided that batting was more in line with his skills.

“Had enough?” The man asked, as the younger man with brownish hair with a glove on his hand and a ball on the other stopped throwing. Out of breath, he approached the man once more.

The two young men said their goodbyes to him, but not before thanking him for his time and lessons.

Deep in thought, the man smiled and nodded in disbelief at his day, this time the watchful eyes were gone and he was left to his own business. He placed one foot forward and followed it with the other one doing the same but he knew nothing of the place where he was headed for.

The man looks up from his feet and sees a huge sign; EARL’S. Losing no time, he grabbed the handle of the door and entered the building. The patrons in sight were nearly all asleep, but the bar was running despite the heat scorching anything it could latch onto. Making his way to the bar, he walked over lazily, the counter catching him just as he nearly tripped over.

“A Mojito.” He said without being asked.

“Give me a minute.” The bartender said, cleaning a fresh glass.

He’d turned his attention to the other patrons, who were half-asleep. There were none he wanted to talk to, but he wasn’t there to talk. He placed an arm on the counter and tapped it, looking for anything to catch his attention. It’s too darn boring here, he thought as he started tapping his foot as well.

“Here you are.” The bartender said, placing the Mojitos before him, dripping with cold sweat from the ice.

The stranger takes a sip, a small one to take his time with the drink. Cool and minty, it was a mix of sour and sweet as well; it made the heat more bearable.

The door opened; its creak loud enough to wake the ones asleep and the rays of the sun blinded the patrons once again. He glanced up, covering his eyes with his free hand. There she stood; her eyes searching the bar for a familiar face that he knew was his.

He sees her approach him immediately, just as the door behind her closes. Jane. He thought. She paused on her tracks before him while he felt eyes watching them.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” She apologized, looking at the drink before him she sat on the seat next to him. “I see you’ve started without me.” Jane smiled, her eyes playfully glancing at him.

“My nerves were all over the place earlier,” he began, “and you can’t go wrong with Mojito.”

She was all smiles, and so was he. Early as it was, she sat and called for the bartender, ordering a glass of Bailey’s Irish Cream.

“Rich?” she started, turning her attention to him, her eyes settling on his. “You didn’t mind about earlier?”

“No,” he replied; bearing his eyes unto hers, drink in hand inching closer to his lips, “no, I didn’t mind.”