30 Days Writing challenge - Day 14: I will always remember his eyes

I will always remember his eyes, the brown flecks and the red veins woven across the whites. He was tired and drunk and his car had broken down off the road, too far for a mechanic but close enough for him to get a beer and stare at the table top.

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He looked like one of those executive types coming from the city from time to time, to get away from the noise, with those little girls with so much colour in their hair like lost butterflies and skimpy skirts. He had not come with a girl though. His shoes were scuffed and I doubt he could afford a room in the Hold Em Motel, the cheapest motel in town. I keep a clean establishment though. At least that's what Mary from the hospitality department of the ministry of health says anytime she came around with her shapely behind and that wolf hound of hers she calls a pet.

The man soon started drooling on the bar top and the grizzly one,Fagin, who never spoke was staring at him in open animosity. My clientele were often from the fringes of the society and anything sometimes happened at the bar. I didn't want to find this sorrowful man with his throat slit and his pockets rifled, so I tapped him on the back to wake up, pay up and leave.

He raised his head, opened his eyes and on seeing me, he smiled

"I need to dispose of a body? Can you help? I'd pay," he said.

"How much," I asked. That's how the world works. Someone's demise is another's meal ticket.

"Twenty thousand," he said.

"Make it one hundred and fifty and I would stop Old Fagin from stabbing your spine while you are trying to direct your piss into the urinal," I reply.

He blinked, then he smiled. It was a sad smile.

"You know how to get what you want. I like that. Mr Fagin, join us, let's get to," he said, climbing down from his stool.

Old man Fagin jumped down and his short legs buckled beneath him. I cursed under my breath, feeling the atmosphere of menace fading away. The man smiled and helped Fagin up; the blasted old meat!

We walked out of the bar into the late afternoon sun. I had Tracy tend the bar and watch out for Johnneh and his slick fingers. We followed the man as he wandered down the road, away from town. Soon we were on the outskirts and it was hot and I was sweaty and Fagin was huffing behind.

"Where is this body, mister," I asked.

"Soon, soon. Don't be impatient," he replied.

I swear I heard amusement in his voice. I turned to Fagin but the fool was sitting on the asphalt, staring at his shoe. The shoe's sole had peeled open and the whole of his feet was on the hot tar. He looked at me with his drunken eyes, as confused as the first day he had wandered into town looking for the Church of The Holy Crust, whatever that meant.

"Get up fool," I whispered.

He struggled to his feet and I turned to find that the man was nowhere to be found. I spied a yellow truck sticking out from the undergrowth. I dragged Fagin there and behold it was an accident. The front was wrapped around a tree and the back, the bed of the truck, hung high from the ground. At the driver's seat, a man sat, his head resting on the steering wheel. I rushed to the truck, stuck my hand throw the window to feel his pulse and I found that he was still alive, although barely.

"Fagin! Fagin! You little shit, rush back to town, get the doctor at the hospital close to Cloisters, the brothel down Church Road. He owes me a few favours. Tell him to hurry here with his ambulance. Hurry now," I said.

Fagin fled away and I turned to the man at the steering wheel. I raised the head and saw that it was the man that brought me there. His eyes winked at me, he smiled and as I watched, life left him.