The Whiskey Files

ONE

"Last call was an hour ago, Salem. Am I calling a cab for you or what? We're closed?"

Salem roused to the sound of Benny Holt hollering from one end of the bar. The old familiar scent of stale cigarettes and whiskey brought him back to the real world inside of The Drunken Rose. The old bar was something of a dive, dimly lit and musky. Everything was wooden and shou sugi ban burned cherry wood from the bar to the floor to the round wooden tables that were scattered everywhere except for the small stretch of mock dance floor in front of the jukebox.

It was quiet, as the music had been turned off and all the patrons, except for Salem King had been kicked out for the night.

He had been having that dream again. The one where Susanna was smiling at him and saying his name so sweetly. It had been from that day that he had finally worked his charm and she had stopped being so brash with him; though he had loved it when she had been brash. He loved it more when she said his name, though.

"I was having a good dream." He complained, turning his head in the opposite direction like he could chase the dream and catch it.

Before he knew it, the glass his hand was holding was yanked out from him and it caused a thud of his head upon the bar-top. He sat up a bit, dazed and drunk, looking at the stoned features of the bar tender who seemed to be having none of it.

"Last call was an hour ago. You owe me $53 dollars, Sal. I'm not holding open tabs any more for you, remember? Close out. Am I calling you a cab or what?"

"No. I can walk."

Salem was fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. Looking through the cash there was within. Noting there wasn't much, barely enough to pay for his drinks for the night. What little he had always went to booze. Perhaps the reason why Benny not wanting to leave open the tabs anymore; he was having trouble closing out most nights.

He slapped the money onto the bar top and slid his way off of the stool. The very motion reminded him just how drunk he was as the room spun slightly as he made his way out of the bar.

"Goodnight, Benny! See you tomorrow!" He had called before his face fully hit the night's cool crisp air and the door closed behind him.

This was life since everything had gone to s**t. Ever since Tulley and King just became King and there had barely been any cases that had come his way. Without Tulley there wasn't any advertising and without the advertising there weren't any men wanting their women to be taken out as cheaters. Which meant that there wasn't really any money coming in.

Not that Salem cared. After losing Susanna and losing the money on that case, he found it hard to woo women, as if he had lost his touch. He used to love his job but now it was more like a chore. It didn't help that he had found himself strictly down at the bottom of a whiskey bottle almost every night since she had told him she never wanted to see him again. He hadn't just lost her, but he had lost everything else in turn. Now where was he? Walking home drunk after a long hard day of doing nothing but drinking.

One would think in a big city like Chicago that there was plenty of work, which there was. There were plenty of cases and plenty of women to con and plenty of disgruntled men who wanted to pull one over on their wives. Salem just wasn't looking. Instead, next to burning his money in booze, he had sunken a lot of it into gambling and while sometimes it paid off, other times it didn't. Which meant he owed a lot of money. Money he didn't have because he wasn't looking for work. It was a vicious cycle, one that would catch up to him.

Because the kind of money he owed to the type of people he loaned and betted with , he knew, eventually, there would be some very bad people coming after him but until then, well, he just shoved his hands into his pockets and gritted his teeth against the cold chill of the wind that was pummeling down from the North. He'd continue living his vicious cycle of s**t. It was the only thing going for him without Susanna. Let them come, he had nothing else.

It was only a few short blocks from The Drunken Rose to the brick building that towered ten stories onto Chicago's South side. The office space was home to many different companies and offices, but the one particular 250 square foot space belonged to none other than Salem King and was located on the building's fourth floor.

Despite it being nearly five in the morning, some of the lights for the other offices were on. Most likely, the early risers were coming in and getting their work started, unlike Salem who had nowhere else to go and was only coming in because he slept here too. He made his way up the old elevator and onto the landing on the fourth floor. He staggered his way down the hallway till he came to the glass door with the name: Tulley and King written on it in bold black letters.

With his key, he unlocked the door and opened it into the small office space. The first initial room was a waiting room which didn't house much beyond a leather bound casting call style couch and a desk with a computer and phone for his secretary.

There was only one little plastic tree in the office, and one framed picture of a barn within an overgrown green field that hung on the wall. Otherwise, the canary yellow walls were at odds with the dark mauve blue carpeting, and though Salem disliked the color scheme, it had been Tulley who had picked out the space, stating that it would make those waiting cheerier when they came back to the office to see them.

The office itself, just on the other side of a wooden door, was what made up most of the space. It was more of a muted color that Salem liked. The walls were black cherry wood paneling and the carpeting was that same mauve blue. Though Tulley was no longer in business, his desk was still poised just on the other side of Salem's. Both heavy oak desks sat back to back so that the two men could sit facing one another.

Tulley's desk was empty, now proving to be more of an extent of Salem's, which held just a simple laptop and a few old case files that were scattered onto Tulley's side. His office phone and an empty glass.

The rest of the office was just like many other offices. Some chairs for guests to sit on, along with a bookshelf with mainly legal books for Tulley that Salem had no interest in ever reading. There was a folded up cot with an old futon mattress and a few blankets stacked off to the side and a little coat closet that Salem now had a dresser shoved into and his clothes arranged within.

As he walked in, he found his seat at his desk, not even bothering to turn on the little lamp there as he fished out the bottle of whiskey from inside one of the drawers. He popped the top and poured himself a double into the glass before he downed it.

Another glass. Another full gulp of burning amber liquor would go down the hatch. Smooth like fire.

- - -

Case: 005 Nikki Hall

The music in the club was loud enough that he could feel it resetting the rhythm to his heartbeat. It wasn't his style of music, the pumping EDM with the flashing lights and the swarm of bodies all moving along together on a dance floor. They all bumped and ground along together in unison, fists in the air as the music swelled. The smell of s*x, sweat and booze was strong throughout the dance floor.

This was where they knew they could find her.

It hadn't taken long to get beneath the skirt of Nikki Hall. The moment he had found her on the floor and started dancing with her was the moment she had given it up. Her body was right up against his, her backside grinding against his pelvis to the beat as his arms wrapped around her and down to the hem of her golden sequin cami styled mini-dress.

He barely had to pull it up her hips to find she wasn't even wearing panties. The minute his fingers came down between her thighs, she parted them in an eager fashion and he found her wet with sweat and juicy want.

She was a beautiful woman. Blonde and voluptuous. Just how the doctor had made her to be. Full of false lashes, salon bleach, and fake sun-kissed glow. Despite the environment, she smelled of Chanel and he knew her dress was Ramy Brook. None of this stopped her from reaching behind her and undoing the zipper of his jeans or fishing him out of his pants.

She wasn't his type but that didn't mean he wasn't ready and rearing to go. The very excitement of what he was doing was enough. He didn't even have to do anything, Nikki was guiding him straight away to where she wanted him and the second his head was pressing into that slick opening, he was pressing every inch deep inside of her with a groan of pleasure.

Boy did he love his job.

He had f****d her right there on the dance floor with the sea of people around them. Nothing sensual, just raw s*x with him grinding up into her from the back with the rhythm of the music. Her moans were washed away by the loud pumping music and her body worked with his to the beat.

Tulley had been off not too far from them recording them the entire time. He made sure none of it was too secretive. Every thrust, every action was obvious to everyone around them that he was plowing her hard and rough. Though no one else there seemed to care much or if they did, they moved away, it wasn't the other patrons he cared about knowing who he was f*****g.

Not that it surprised anyone, Nikki Hall was a woman who was as loose as she was rich. Anyone who was anyone could get a pass at her if she thought they were cute enough and it seemed Salem had passed the test. She didn't last long. Soon her legs were shaking and she was going limp legged to the point he had to hold her up around her waist.

That didn't stop him either, as he continued. Her husband had specifically wanted to know how far she would go with anyone and so he gave her husband exactly what he wanted. A full money shot. Salem went with full onslaught, ploughing himself straight to an orgasm that left a mess dripping down from between her thighs onto the dance floor below as he pulled out of her.

Then he walked away. All the evidence he needed. The easiest case he had ever done. Tulley clicked the record button off on his new pair of video-recording glasses and as Nikki looked around the dance floor to find Salem, he was long gone, he had slunk through the floor of dancers. Shoving himself back into his pants and to head to the bathroom to clean himself up. He was gone before she even knew what had really happened; not that she could have guessed. Not until she was being served with divorce papers and the evidence was being played out for her.

He would never see Nikki Hall again, but the money he had gotten from her husband for the evidence of her whorish ways had set them up in the building and paid for much of the very furniture and paint that adorned the office space. Their first truly big case and no one really forgot their first.