Sinners

Night had covered Clarksdale with a dark and heavy sky.

Inside the juke joint, the atmosphere was completely different. Lights illuminated the room, people talked, laughed, and danced while the sound of the blues filled every corner.

Smoke Moore stood close to one of the walls, watching everything intently. Although he tried to relax, his years working for the mob had taught him to distrust anything that seemed too quiet.

Stack, on the other hand, was enjoying the evening.

"Look at this," he said, watching the people dance. "I told you this place was going to work."

Smoke let out a small laugh.

—Don't celebrate just yet.

—You always have to ruin the celebration.

Near the stage, Sammie played his guitar. The music made everyone seem to forget, for a moment, the problems outside.

People approached the stage to listen to him.

Sammie smiled as she continued playing.

Then someone opened the door.

The music gradually faded away.

A man appeared at the entrance.

It was Remmick.

He was elegantly dressed and had a calm expression, almost too calm. Behind him were several people who remained silent.

Remmick looked around the establishment.

He didn't go in.

He simply stood on the threshold.

Smoke immediately went on alert.

—Who is that?

Stack looked at the stranger.

-I have no idea.

Remmick raised a hand in greeting.

-Good night.

Some of those present responded.

Others simply looked at him.

Remmick smiled.

—We heard the music from outside. We wondered if we could join in the celebration.

Stack walked towards the entrance.

—The party is for our people.

Remmick didn't seem offended.

—I understand.

Smoke approached his brother.

-I don't like.

Annie, who was nearby, stared at Remmick.

His expression changed.

She seemed to recognize something that the others had not yet noticed.

—Smoke...

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