The Metronome Club
There was always something magical about that time of year when you could look up at the sky and see nothing but a deep black blanket holding up the sporadic lights of a million stars. In the southern reaches of Sub-Saharan Africa, it was often so clear that you could make out planets with the eye on its own. Strangely the same could be said for the country that Harold now found himself in. Well in the rural areas at least. As for the city of Harper Rock, it was a little less visible due to the variety of light pollution that would wind its way up into the quiet night’s sky. As for the man that was staring up he felt as if he was about as alien to the country as an extra-terrestrial would be. Sure, he spoke the language and knew of the culture, but he still felt like a sore thumb in the place. For one thing, he felt safe as he strolled down the side streets from where his small hostel room has opened onto. There was plenty of working street lights even out in more rundown parts of town. Though he guessed, in the long run, it didn’t bother him all that much. The ex-police officer was used to feeling out of place within society. He had grown up as a black man in a white family as the apartheid movement swept across his homeland. He was outcast by both as a child, not that he had minded. He remembered enjoying his time alone whether studying or listening to music.
As he came to the main road Harold managed to get a cab to take him further on into the city. More specifically the Metronome Club. His plan was to try and meet some new people in town and according to one of the other guys within the Zombie Task Force this was the place to be.
The car ride was smooth, the traffic not a major issue and the cab driver polite enough to give him a quick run-down of places to go and more specifically where to avoid. Harry made sure to tip the man as he stepped out into the cool night's breeze once more. He stopped for a moment to wave as the man drove away before turning to take in the site of the bar. From the outside, it looked nice, nothing too fancy but a good feel about the place. He walked over to the door and made his way inside.
The lights were dimmed but by the looks of things mostly a mixture of gentle colored mood lighting and then the stage illumination. On said stage stood a fairly interesting group of individuals playing a selection of Jazz and keeping the environment of the whole bar relatively relaxed. Harold allowed himself a few more moments to take in the place before he sided up to the bar and waited for service. As we waited the tall African looked out across the other people within, most were well dressed. Smart casual was the de-facto by the looks of things. Luckily, he had taken that route when dressing for the night and found himself in a pair of dark jeans with a white and blue patterned shirt finished with his blue suit jacket.
Finally, the woman behind the bar made eye contact with him and took his order. Double scotch, on the rocks. He wasn’t a particularly high-class man, but he had developed a love for a few of the finer drinks. Harold slid a $10 note across to the woman and winked as took the glass and proceeded out to find a place to mingle.
