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James arrived during that ethereal floating time, when a person tried to convince themselves tonight will be different, but they know it will be the same. The hotel’s bar was clean, recently re-done in a minimalist black and white with blue velvet accents. He smelled fresh paint. Instrumental jazz dripped from unseen speakers and softly pushed “The Girl from Ipanema”. The corners of his mouth turned up.

The spot was James’s most fruitful hunting ground. Every flight has a connection in Atlanta, and every lonely divorcee wanted a travel-fling—at least the ones that hung out at hotel bars near the airport.

James settled into a black and chrome stool. He brushed an errant grey ponytail strand behind a pierced ear and pointed a gold-and-emerald-ringed pinky finger at the stereo. 

“What’s this trash?”

The bartender, a bushy-bearded guy named Doug, sighed. “Music.” 

“Sounds like two dolphins fighting and a cat getting choked.”

Doug grimaced and tugged on his red suspenders. “It’s Tina Turner, What’s Love Got to Do with It,  her new song.”

James frowned. “I read about her piece of shit husband. He drugged and robbed and took advantage of people. You’d be smart to look out for types like that. Why are you supporting that trash?”

Doug looked down. “This isn’t Ike. This is Tina. Literally, one of the biggest stars in the world. I can’t believe you don’t know this.”

“I focus on things that matter.” James shrugged. “Not bullshit celebrity gossip.”

Doug wiped down a glass. “That working out for you?”

“I’m wearing a Rolex and driving a Mercedes.”

“A real Gordon Gekko.”

“Stop being a smart-ass.” James flashed a twenty. “How about you put on some Seger?”

Doug grinned. “You want to hear something else?”

“Yea…” James slid the cash across the lacquered wood.

Doug took the money. “Then go to a different bar.” He walked to the back.

James sighed. He used to run Atlanta, now some idiot kid smarted off without fear. Doug returned, carrying a case of beer. He squatted and started loading an unseen, humming, refrigerator.

James knocked on the bar top. “Fine, we can listen to your new stuff.”

Doug poked his head above the wood. “Thanks for your permission.”

“How about a shot of tequila?” 

“Coming right up.”

“Top shelf.”

“Only the best for you.” Doug’s sarcasm overflowed.

James didn’t care. He drank the shot and ordered another. He watched the wall-mounted TV, Larry Bird was playing, James’s favourite.

***

The first thing James noticed was the smell. It was crisp and clean and reminded him of cut grass and high school football. He looked right. She sat two stools down. Brunette with a deep tan. The small kind of woman who was the largest thing in the room.

James was careful not to let her know he’d noticed. It was how he played the game. Don’t show your cards too early. Plus, he wanted to make sure she wasn’t waiting for a man.

After three more songs, and two more shots, James turned and smiled. He stood, smoothed his white-linen pants, sauntered the short distance, and took the stool to her right.

He stuck out a hand. “James.”

She arched her left eyebrow. “Amie Dunn.”

“Nice to meet you. Amie Dunn, beautiful name.”

They shook. Her grip was hard, given how soft she appeared. He glanced her up and down. The dark blue dress was well-tailored, but not tight. Her shoes were deep red.

James smiled to himself. If he pulled this off, it would be the best night in a long time, and tonight would be different.

Amie smiled and flicked her head at the stereo. “I like Tina.”

“Me too.” James grinned, but not too much. He didn’t want to show the missing back-teeth. “You have a favourite song?”

“Not really. I love her whole vibe.”

“Same here.”

“You like that new girl, Madonna?”

“Huge fan.” James made a mental note to go figure out who the hell ‘Madonna’ was. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Amie smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.” She put a hand on his forearm, for an instant.

James felt voltage surge through his body.

***

They talked and laughed and drank. Time melted and flowed. James was impressed, she knew about rock n’ roll, football, and muscle cars. She could hold her booze. Amie was half his age, but an old soul. James felt the connection.

“Where’d you learn about all this… Man stuff? You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever talked to.”

“I guess you could say it’s my job.” Amie’s head dropped and her eyes got wet.

“What do you mean?”

She looked off, into the middle distance. “Dad died and mom was a drunk so I… did what I had to—to get by. There were a lot of sailors around, in port for a day… Talking is a huge part of that.” Her face turned deep red.

“Mom couldn’t work?”

“No… I had to earn the money.”

James looked down. He thought about his mother.

“I’m sorry,” James said. “That’s no kind of life.”

“It is what it is,” Amie said. “Either way, I learned, and started to like, all kinds of things other twenty-three-year-old women don’t care about.”

Twenty-three… half his age. Almost the same age as his daughter. James knew he should feel sleazy, but didn’t. There was something about Amie.

She looked up at him, crimson fading. “What about you? What’s your deal?”

“I’m a lawyer.” James grinned, there was no need to mention he had never passed the bar.

Amie beamed. “That’s a cool job. What kind of law do you practice?”

“I got tired of the lies and scams, so I moved into my own thing.”

“As if lies and scams were exclusive to the law.” She laughed. “What’s your own thing?” 

The sound of her voice stuck to his ears like cobwebs.

“I dealt with so many cops and criminals,” James said, “I fell into the world of pawn shops.” 

“You went from law to pawn?” She looked disappointed and her face went young. 

James thought of his daughter again… he hadn’t seen her in twenty years. 

“I know it sounds like an odd jump,” James said. “But it gave me more time to spend with my family, my little one.”

She grinned. “You have a kid?”

“Had. We lost touch.” James didn’t feel the need to talk about the bitter divorce, and the cheating, and the running off. Some memories are better left buried.

“Did you try to stay in the child’s life?”

“I did, but these things… There are so many factors, and the fucking courts… They hate fathers.”

Amie made eye contact. She squeezed his hand. “I understand.”

James believed her. “Either way, leaving law and going out on my own was a blessing. The money is better, the stress is lower, and the freedom can’t be beat. I actually bought an entire building.” James beamed.

“Wow,” Amie said. “A whole building?”

His heart pounded. The moment had arrived.

“The first floor is my shop. The second floor is inventory. A designer re-did the third and fourth floors. Now there’s my condo. Chic, very “Miami Vice”. I’ve created my own little heaven.”

Amie kept her face down, but swept her eyes up. “I’d love to see it, sometime.”

His neck got hot. “I’d love to show it, anytime.” He knew it sounded cheesy, but it felt right.

The night continued in a fog of loud talk, strong drinks, and bad music. It wasn’t quite closing time when Amie stood.

She smiled. “Show me your place?”

Doubt exploded. Acid rushed into James’s throat. It was never this easy. “You told me about how you had to earn your way…”

She frowned. “I did.”

“You working me?”

She leaned in and whispered in his ear, her lips didn’t touch, but they almost did. “If I worked you, you’d never see it coming.”

“I guess…”

She stayed close. “This is just Amie. And Amie likes James.”

He turned to her. “Really?”

She grasped both his hands, leaned away, and made eye contact. “Really.”

James sensed it. He could trust her. “I feel the same way.”

“Anyway, I’m out of that life.” She laughed. “But, if I was still in, you couldn’t afford me.” 

James forced out a chuckle, but hated the thought. He paid the tab. “Let me get a taxi.”

She shook her head. “Let’s take your car. It’ll be more private.”

James frowned. “I’ve had a few…”

Amie smiled. “We’ll be fine.”

“Ok.”

James opened the door for her. They walked outside. All these years coming to the airport Hilton’s bar, finally things were breaking his way.

***

It was late when they arrived at his red brick building in Castleberry Hill. Amie made him a Gimlet, the citrus odour was strong. James put on a record—Lynyrd Skynyrd. He queued up “Simple Man”.

They talked and laughed and danced.

She flicked her chin at a black and white photo on the counter. “Who’s that?”

James looked. His throat caught. “My daughter.”

She picked it up. “She’s cute, anything more recent?”

James frowned. “No, just after that is when I left, I mean, when her mother forced me out. Haven’t seen her in two decades.”

Amie put the photo back and turned to James. She smiled 

He sipped the drink.

After ten minutes he felt groggy. After twenty, the universe’s edges blurred.

James melted into the black vinyl couch, immobile. His mind was vapour, “Free Bird” blared. He tried to focus on Amie, but couldn’t. 

He stared at the spinning ceiling. “What’s going on?”

Amie grabbed his face. She forced eye contact. 

“Dad.” She released his chin. His head rolled back. She slapped him. His head snapped right. He was too wasted to feel pain. Amie grabbed his left ear and pulled it to her lips. “It’s me. Your daughter. Thanks for everything I’m about to take. You owe me far more.”

She released the ear and his head fell. Confusion flooded his soul. His stomach filled with sadness. He passed out.

***

It was light outside when he woke, still on the couch. The hangover was biblical. The first thing he noticed was the pinky ring—removed. He looked around, she’d taken the counter-top photo. He stood, his balance was shaky.

James went downstairs. Every diamond, every piece of jewellery, gone. He sighed and went outside. She’d taken his car.

James sat on the curb. If only she’d given him a chance. He would’ve given his daughter anything. Tears fell onto the cracked asphalt.

***

Doug waited at the chop-shop, snapping the red-suspenders. The sun rose as she arrived in James’s car, parked, and stepped out.

Doug hugged her. “Any problems?”

“No,” she said. “I told him my name was Amie… at first.”

“At first?”

“After I spiked the drink,” Cintia said, “I messed with him.”

“Why?”

Cintia smiled. “Because he’s a selfish piece of shit.”

Doug frowned. “At first… what came second?”

Cintia shrugged. “I told him I was his long-lost daughter. Asshole said he hadn’t seen her in twenty years.”

“What happened with the kid?”

Cintia sighed and looked at Doug. “How the fuck would I know? He told me a sob story. But now he thinks I’m the long-lost offspring and this way he’s less likely to call the cops.”

Doug nodded. “Smart.”

She smiled. “I’m good at what I do.”

“What’d you score?”

“Jewelry, cash, watches.” She slapped the gold Mercedes’s roof. “And this”.

“No guns?”

Cintia sighed. “We don’t need that kind of heat… It’s not like we’re real criminals.”

“Good point.”

Doug loved Cintia, she always knew the right play.

***

Cintia and Doug arrived in Birmingham the next day. She got a good price for the gold. The gemstones didn’t do as well. She kept the timepieces, too easy to identify. Better to unload them to private buyers, far away.

They rented a spot at the Holiday Inn by the bus station. They arrived late, and the world was dark, and the sun glided to nothing, and existence felt endless. Cintia paid cash for three nights, smiled, and tipped the clerk far too much. They strolled to the room.

Cintia liked the hotel. It smelled old and the paint was faded green. 

There was no bar.

THE END


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J.B. Stevens lives in the Southeastern United States with his wife and daughter.

His short story collection A Therapeutic Death is being released in October 2021, his poetry chapbook All the Violent Memories is being released in March 2021—both from Close to The Bone publishing. He won Mystery Tribune’s inaugural micro-fiction contest, was nominated for the Pushcart Prize for poetry, and was a finalist for the Killer Nashville Claymore award for best unpublished crime novel. His writing has been featured in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Points in Case, Criminal Element, and numerous other publications.

He is a veteran of the Iraq war where he earned a Bronze Star. Prior to the war, he was an undefeated Mixed Martial Arts Fighter. J.B. graduated from The Citadel.

He can be found online at twitter.com/IamJBStevens and jb-stevens.com.


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