your wife about you making time with Lefty’s sister last year. Get it?”
“Got it.”
I hear a motor, the motor I now know is the motor of the guy who shot at me. I shudder, but I breathe. He’s gone now, but he knows I’m in the Keys. I can’t let my guard down.
I stand, and the bartender shoves a damp-looking microwaved burger at me. “That’ll be five hundred dollars, please.”
What about the code of the bartender? “I’ll give you six. Three now, three when I check out tomorrow morning, unharmed. Deal?”
The bartender nods. He breaks off a crumb of the bun before handing the burger to me. The crumb, he holds up to the cage over the bar. The bird! “The nice man wants to share with you, baby.”
“What kind of bird is that?” I ask. Now that I can look at the bird, and my teeth aren’t chattering, I see it’s not a canary, like I thought. Rather, it’s this freaky-looking thing, sort of a miniature phoenix, more gold than yellow, with long tail feathers and a plume on its head.
“It’s my bird. That’s what kind.”
I take a bite of burger and chew it for a long time while the bartender glares at me. “It’s good,” I say, though it isn’t. “Do you know where the desk clerk is? I want to check in.”
“I happen to also be the desk clerk.” The bartender turns to his one conscious customer. “Keep an eye on my bird.”
He takes me to the front, where I check in using Ryan’s name and no I.D. I pay cash for the room, another two hundred, which it’s totally not worth. The bartender hands me the key to room 203. “If you go out, leave the key at the desk.”
So the motorcycle guy can get in my room and kill me? But I say, “I’m not going out. And can you send up some food when you start making fresh stuff?” At the look on his face, I add, “Or six o’clock, whichever comes first.”
“Will do. Pleasure doing business with you.”
I’ll bet. He’s already gotten $520 from me, with the promise of more, for the simple act of keeping his trap shut. But I head up the creaky, dusty stairs to a room where my key sticks in the rusty lock. I have to wiggle it several times, but finally, it opens. I relock it from the inside, then add the chain. It still doesn’t feel safe, so I shove the bed against the door too. Then, sit on it. The room is dim gray, and I am alone with nothing to do. I slept most of the day yesterday. Now I’m wide-awake. I don’t dare turn on the television or radio. I want to hear whoever might approach. I take out a notebook and start to sketch a new shoe design, but all I can see is the leather-clad biker, the bartender, the fox, and the bird I’m supposed to steal.
By three, my eyelids start to collapse under their own weight. Three hours before dinner. Guess it won’t hurt to sleep, prepare for tonight. I sprawl on the bed, my feet touching the locked door.
I wake to knocking.
“I’ve got your dinner.” It’s a woman’s voice, Southern accent.
“Can you just leave it there?” I ask.
“Sorry, no. Sam says you have to pay.”
Pay. Like the money I’ve given him isn’t enough to cover another bar burger. But my stomach says I need to pay it. “Hold on. I have to get dressed.”
“I can vait,” she says.
“What?”
“I said I’ll wait.” Southern accent. I’m cracking up and hearing things.
I take out a Yankees cap someone once left at Meg’s shop and cover my hair. Between that and the three-day growth on my cheeks, I look different from usual. “What’d he send me to eat?”
“Uh, I think it’s chicken. Chicken, fries, and slaw.” Nothing to worry about. I pull the bed away from the door so I can open it.
I take a step back. The girl on the other side could be Victoriana’s American sister, a beautiful, slender blonde with startling blue eyes. “Hi,” she says in the same soft accent as before. “Can I put this down somewhere?”
I want to grab it from her hand. But now, that seems paranoid, cowardly,
“Got it.”
I hear a motor, the motor I now know is the motor of the guy who shot at me. I shudder, but I breathe. He’s gone now, but he knows I’m in the Keys. I can’t let my guard down.
I stand, and the bartender shoves a damp-looking microwaved burger at me. “That’ll be five hundred dollars, please.”
What about the code of the bartender? “I’ll give you six. Three now, three when I check out tomorrow morning, unharmed. Deal?”
The bartender nods. He breaks off a crumb of the bun before handing the burger to me. The crumb, he holds up to the cage over the bar. The bird! “The nice man wants to share with you, baby.”
“What kind of bird is that?” I ask. Now that I can look at the bird, and my teeth aren’t chattering, I see it’s not a canary, like I thought. Rather, it’s this freaky-looking thing, sort of a miniature phoenix, more gold than yellow, with long tail feathers and a plume on its head.
“It’s my bird. That’s what kind.”
I take a bite of burger and chew it for a long time while the bartender glares at me. “It’s good,” I say, though it isn’t. “Do you know where the desk clerk is? I want to check in.”
“I happen to also be the desk clerk.” The bartender turns to his one conscious customer. “Keep an eye on my bird.”
He takes me to the front, where I check in using Ryan’s name and no I.D. I pay cash for the room, another two hundred, which it’s totally not worth. The bartender hands me the key to room 203. “If you go out, leave the key at the desk.”
So the motorcycle guy can get in my room and kill me? But I say, “I’m not going out. And can you send up some food when you start making fresh stuff?” At the look on his face, I add, “Or six o’clock, whichever comes first.”
“Will do. Pleasure doing business with you.”
I’ll bet. He’s already gotten $520 from me, with the promise of more, for the simple act of keeping his trap shut. But I head up the creaky, dusty stairs to a room where my key sticks in the rusty lock. I have to wiggle it several times, but finally, it opens. I relock it from the inside, then add the chain. It still doesn’t feel safe, so I shove the bed against the door too. Then, sit on it. The room is dim gray, and I am alone with nothing to do. I slept most of the day yesterday. Now I’m wide-awake. I don’t dare turn on the television or radio. I want to hear whoever might approach. I take out a notebook and start to sketch a new shoe design, but all I can see is the leather-clad biker, the bartender, the fox, and the bird I’m supposed to steal.
By three, my eyelids start to collapse under their own weight. Three hours before dinner. Guess it won’t hurt to sleep, prepare for tonight. I sprawl on the bed, my feet touching the locked door.
I wake to knocking.
“I’ve got your dinner.” It’s a woman’s voice, Southern accent.
“Can you just leave it there?” I ask.
“Sorry, no. Sam says you have to pay.”
Pay. Like the money I’ve given him isn’t enough to cover another bar burger. But my stomach says I need to pay it. “Hold on. I have to get dressed.”
“I can vait,” she says.
“What?”
“I said I’ll wait.” Southern accent. I’m cracking up and hearing things.
I take out a Yankees cap someone once left at Meg’s shop and cover my hair. Between that and the three-day growth on my cheeks, I look different from usual. “What’d he send me to eat?”
“Uh, I think it’s chicken. Chicken, fries, and slaw.” Nothing to worry about. I pull the bed away from the door so I can open it.
I take a step back. The girl on the other side could be Victoriana’s American sister, a beautiful, slender blonde with startling blue eyes. “Hi,” she says in the same soft accent as before. “Can I put this down somewhere?”
I want to grab it from her hand. But now, that seems paranoid, cowardly,
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