But the red taillights vanished into darkness.
His chest heaved, sweat dampening his palms. He stood there frozen for a long moment, then turned sharply and stormed back to the counter.
He asked one of the bartenders, “Who were those kids?” he demanded.
One of the bartenders shook his head. “I don’t know, sir. They only perform sometimes. The owner brings them. But…” his voice lowered, “the owner just left. You missed him.”
But, how could that answer satisfy David, he walked to the bartender who seemed like the head among them. He felt the man would know more.
“Who were those kids?”
The bartender paused in the act of wiping a glass. His smile came, practiced and calm. “I don’t know, sir. They only perform sometimes.”
David’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me.” His voice dropped into
