Why Is It Always Thursday?

So there Miles sat, sitting on a luxury boat with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. And in that moment he wondered so many things like why was a beauty like her here on baltigo? what does she want with me? And most of all, how the fuck did it lead to him in a boiler room tied to a chair bloodied and almost beaten to death?

Previous Day - 8:00AM - Thursday's Bar & Bistro

The air was sweet and the atmosphere was calm as Miles played a sombre tune on the mahogany ballroom grand piano in the corner of Miles' makeshift home, Thursday's Bar & Bistro. It was an upmarket lounge club for baltigo, it was a fine establishment with a mix between a western and lumberjack aesthetic. Saloon doors with log walls and a large fireplace highlighted the bar's beauty through 3 large multi-paned windows that lined the front of the bar, allowing those on the street to peer in on its welcoming ambience. Despite popular belief, the founder of Thursday's wasn't actually named Thursday. It just happened to be the day he got married.

"You're a long way from home, you know that?" said a soft feminine voice from the kitchen.

"Ugh don't remind me..." Stuttered Miles, halting his fluttering on the keys.
The room fell into silence as he did, allowing him to ponder on his thoughts, it took him a long pause to think of the right wording of his next sentence. The lady behind that voice was named Michaela, a woman from the west blue just like Miles. She had shown empathy towards Miles' situation and had grown quite fond of him. Keeping him as her personal source of enjoyment in return for shelter and protection.
"Have I showed you uhh...this song that I...wrote? No.....composed, yes! Composed is the word I was looking for. "


"Did you say something?!"

"I SAID HAVE I SHOWED YOU THAT SONG I WROTE?!"


"NO I HAVENT! JUST PLAY IT THEN!"

As Miles began to play his new piece a group of 3 men dressed in purple pinstripe suits walked in, nothing out of the ordinary for a days work but unusual for the time of day. After a second or two of staring at the unusual sight Miles gave them a nod and went back to playing, as he lowered his head to look at the piano keys he felt a cold hard piece of metal being pressed against the top of his skull. "Keep playing" the pinstripe dressed man said as he pushed the barrel of his pistol harder on Miles' head, compliantly he did so.

"That's a nice melody there Milly, it would sound better if-"
At that very moment, Michaela walked out of the kitchen and into the common room to discover her little hostage being held at gunpoint, needless to say, she let out a scream that put sirens to shame. Miles slowly looked up at her and gave a half-baked smile with his upper lip quivering, whenever Miles got nervous he would always do something dangerous. Something dangerous was definitely about to go down. "It must be a Thursday huh? It always is."