“Alright crew, gather ‘round!”
It sounded less like a business and more like a summer camp the way Doc spoke. Nothing new for the scruffy voiced proprietor, for he had always conducted his inspections like this. He had every regular tenant lounging in the booths, his sharp-eyed grownup son Jericho and wife Belle standing by.
“Just the usual thing,” the old street-racer smiled, fixing his spectacles. “Like the old-time health-n-safety guys with the nice white suit and clipboard. Whole pack’s here too right? Kimberly, Alcott, Peter, aaaaand Sue! There, perfect.”
They first started with Kim, the “last of the good-time gals.” He had seen plenty ladies of the night check in and out over the years. Son Jericho had been on him about “cleaning the joint up,” but much to the boy’s surprise, that seemed to sort itself naturally. Some, like the fair Sabina, found love. Some got bored and found other lines of work.
But not Kimberly.
