It’s been said that there are two things that can save a man’s soul and two things that can just as easily condemn it; women and rock and roll can keep a man alive or bury him, but I don’t really believe in that kind of romantic horseshit. For me, there are only two things that’ll keep me out of the ground, and those are my right and left hands. Even then, it’s not a sure thing.
You have to quickly learn the rules of the yard. If you want to beat a bully, you can’t outsmart him. Unfortunately, there’s no clever way to stop the beatings. Sure, if your tongue has enough silver on it, you can chirp your way out of a few scrapes, but eventually, they’ll keep on coming. The only way to end getting your ass kicked is to step into him; beat him so hard, so mercilessly, and put fear into his heart. A good walloping isn’t enough. He’ll find you the next day and beat you harder than before, because all you managed to do was to make him angry. I call it the hornet’s nest theory.
How you handle a bully translates into the way you handle moments of violence for the rest of your life. In a fight, you really only have two options. You either out-box the man or you make him fear you. No matter the force with which you hit him, the impact is twice as hard if a man has fear in his heart. I’ve seen many fall because an opponent outfoxed him with his eyes. While it’s typically said of a woman, a man can just as readily send another man to ruin with just a glance.
Musings, that’s what I have when I drink. Most people drink to forget, to live in the moment. I drink so I can be alone with my thoughts and unscramble the eggs. I had been sitting at the bar in a place uptown, the name of which I couldn’t remember, drinking whiskey for hours and thinking. The barman has been good to me. You know the sort; he was generous with his pours and no bullshit “Hey, Pal” conversations.
I was to meet Fletcher Fielding. His name was right out of a book and he was Arnie’s contact on the outside. My job tonight was to give him a list of women that had been earmarked for importing, who were mostly Romanian from the look of things. Although Arnie hadn’t told me these details, I had looked for myself in the package of papers Arnie had given to me to carry. Knowing kept me on top of things.
I had never met Fletcher and today was the first time Arnie had mentioned his name. I felt pretty confident in Arnie’s trust for me with this job. More importantly, I was sitting in an uptown bar filled with people who slept in clean linen sheets, wore overpriced cologne, adorned their napes with fancy rocks and lived taxable lives. This meant only one of two things with regards to Fletcher; either he thought there was no better place to meet than away from the typical lower class elements associated with Arnie’s line of business, or more likely, Fletcher was a clean-sheet man himself. Not that I really cared; I was drinking Jack when it should have been fine bourbon but it was still on Arnie’s dime.
This particular upscale joint was busy. The noise was at a buzzing level so that conversations could be heard by the people engaged in them and yet still remain private. There were a few empty seats at the bar, but it had four sides and was large enough that the barman could have benefitted from two assistants on a night like this. I figured his pace would help keep me sober enough for my meeting. I had a gentleman sitting next to me who was drinking Limey Gimlets. He looked like a Brit too. His chin kept crashing against his sternum like an Australian wave during the stormy season, so I knew his ears had shut off. I kept the seat to my right free, telling the odd adventurer that I was meeting someone.
I watched the barman pour another drink for the Yorkie, who had inadvertently managed to muster enough coordination to tap the rim of his empty glass in the barman’s presence. I tried the same trick and tapped my empty glass as well, but he avoided my gesture and took an order from a group of Suits who had just set the colour of their money on the mahogany. Their colours were brighter than mine.
“You should do the same if you want Mike to notice you.”
The sound of a female voice addressing me was startling. I looked to my right and a woman in a red crepe sleeveless dress slid her firm beautiful body into the empty chair beside me. I stared at her legs long and hard, partly because she was beautiful but mostly because I had seen this pair of stems before. Then I noticed she was smiling at me.
“Now I know it’s you. You did the same thing two years ago,” she said. Her lips were parted in a way that led me to believe she was about to smile.
“Excuse me?” I responded. At least I think I said something like that.
“You don’t remember me. It was a long time ago, I guess.”
She crossed her legs and I looked directly at her.
“I remember you.”
“You do?” She became a little vulnerable. I remained stone-faced.
“Yeah I saw you on TV once. You’re an actress, right?”
She looked disappointed and started to get up to leave. I gently put my hand on her arm to stop her.
“How’s the car?”
She stared at me with a bewildered look. I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was because she looked disappointed. Maybe it was because I wanted to feel what it felt like to talk to someone like her or maybe it was because she was warm and was so damn beautiful. Maybe it was all of the reasons at once.
She sat back down and ordered a drink.
“The car is in the shop, actually. Bad gasket or something like that. It will probably cost me upwards of five hundred dollars.”
“If it does, switch mechanics.”
“Okay, I will.” She looked down at her drink and smiled a little, playing with her glass and rotating it around in a circle. “I really thought I’d never see you again.”
I didn’t know what to say but found it impossible to conceal what I was feeling. She fidgeted in her chair a little. I didn’t say anything and took a drink. She kept looking at me and although I didn’t look back at her, I knew there was hurt and disappointment in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have intruded. I just wanted to come over and say hello.”
She got up and walked away. I took a drink and cursed under my breath, and told myself I was doing the right thing by letting her go. I did it once before and it was right then, but at this moment it really felt completely wrong. I left my drink, got up and went after her. I moved through the crowded room and put my hand on her back as I approached. She turned around to face me.
“I left you alone that night because I knew you were safe.”
“Really?”
“No. That’s not true. I left you because I had to. The circumstances were bad. I saw you, what you were wearing, the kind of car you were driving and I knew that I came from a different place than you.”
“You made a poor assumption about me, then. You are making another one now. I just wanted to come say hello because you had stopped those men and helped me.”
“That’s a crock of shit.”
“You’ve got no right to talk to me like that.” Her eyes were indignant but mine had a fierceness that took the light out of hers.
“Look lady, you don’t know a thing about me, where I come from, or the things I’ve done. If I walked away from you that night, I did so for reasons you could never understand.”
I was angry with her and her expectations. I started to walk away and turned back around for more.
“I can’t know you, I can’t! And I know you didn’t just come over to say hello.” I lost it a little bit. Women will do this to you, but I’m thankful that I’m a man, just so I can know this feeling all the same.
She stood there in shock at what I’d just said, and then suddenly I could see her body relax.
“Have a drink with me.”
“Can’t. I’m meeting someone.”
“I’ve got a table reserved. I’m meeting a friend and she’s running late. Have one drink with me.”
I halfheartedly followed her to her table and we sat down. She caught the server’s attention and placed an order for a whisky and a glass of red wine. The skirted table was rather small and cozy.
“My name’s Karen.” Once she said it, I realized it didn’t even matter. I felt the way I did about her and I didn’t even know a thing about this woman, let alone her name.
She gestured towards my face. “Can I ask what happened?”
“No.” What could I have said?
“Oh. Okay.”
There was a moment’s silence between us and then someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was the barman, Mike.
“There’s a man at the door who says he’s looking for you.”
“How’d you know he was looking for me?”
“He described you.” The barman allowed his irritation to show plainly.
I thanked him, and he walked away, mumbling under his breath.
“I’ve got to go.” I got up abruptly to leave. I didn’t want to be seen with her, although she didn’t know that.
“Okay.”
“I…” I trailed off, unsure of what else to say. I walked away, having regained my composure and focused on the task in front of me.
At the door, a man was clearly surveying the room. Fletcher was not what I had expected. He was a tall man, lanky but not uncoordinated. He had longer blonde hair with a scruffy five-day growth shadow on his face.
He also recognized me as the person he was looking for.
“Kendall, right? Let’s go outside.” We started out the door when Karen came around the corner.
“William! William, wait a second.”
I stopped. So did Fletcher, who had a suspicious look across his face.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is my address. If you’re in the area again, maybe you’ll stop by and say hello or something.”
I took the piece of paper from her hand and tried to smile, although it probably just looked like a scowl.
Once outside, Fletcher lit a cigarette, taking a deep long drag and letting the smoke out through his nose.
“Why’d she call you William?”
“Because that’s the name I gave the bird.”
“Who was she? Pretty little thing.” He looked back in through the window, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. I watched as his Form flickered to a black cougar for just a moment.
“Some broad who helped me pass the time while I waited for you. You’re over an hour late.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” He shifted nervously, knowing Arnie didn’t like it when people were late for appointments.
“Let’s start walking. I’m sick of this neighbourhood.”
He did as he was told. I took the piece of paper with Karen’s address written on it from my pocket, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into a garbage bin.
“Don’t you want to know where she lives? I want to know where she lives.” A sleazy grin stretched across Fletcher’s face.
“I’ve got plenty of women who I can have whenever I want. I don’t need any hassles from some uptight, uptown chick.”
“I wouldn’t let that one fly away.”
“Shut it!” I handed him the package Arnie intended for me to give to him and left him standing at the corner. I headed underground to catch the subway, letting the city evaporate above me.