Alan chuckled to himself, shaking his head softly as he picked up the cash and counted it before putting it in the register. He knew that Jeremy charged more than he did, drinks were a great way to cover restaurant overheads. He imagined the girl trying to explain to old biker how to make an Alabama...

Alan crossed his arms and glared at Tiffani. He'd lost his mother to lung cancer and was unimpressed by the girl's attitude. Besides that, she was starting to look like the wrong end of tipsy, and he didn't feel like dealing with sloppy customers on a Thursday. "You can have your drinks just as soon...

"Put that shit out," the bartender interjected as Tiffani lit the cigarette. A quick glance around would show that there were no ashtrays anywhere in the bar.

ALAN REEDER

Now in his thirties, Alan purchased the Scratch Bar two years ago. The bar had been closed for several years, and Alan saw an opportunity to indulge his interest in mixology. He comes from a nearby town, part of the Maize school district, having attended the public school here.