sorta liked the new look. No one, not even his best friend, not that he ever had one, would recognize him.
After a week of hanging out at the beach for at least three hours a day, Anthony made several discoveries. First, he was getting bored just doing nothing. It wasn’t his style. Second, while he still had more than sixty-five hundred left of his stash, it wouldn’t last forever.
I need a job. Where can I work where I need no references? What am I qualified to do?
He had no clue.
It occurred to Anthony that although he had never been much of a stud, certainly not a ladies’ man, he had not had sex since the “incident,” the one that got him in all this trouble in the first place.
I need a girlfriend.
Anthony also realized he didn’t have a Florida driver’s license. He couldn’t even get a job as a pizza delivery boy if he wanted to.
Where can I get a job, any job, without proper identification? Social security and all that kinda crap. I’m screwed forever.
Anthony decided he needed a drink. Now.
It was only three in the afternoon.
***
The bar on Collins and 17 th was not much to look at. It was not what you would expect in Miami Beach but this was the older section. The much older section. What could be called seedy or rundown or at times downright unfriendly. That was where Anthony ended up. He knew damn well he wouldn’t be proofed. All he had to do was lay a twenty on the bar and he could drink beer all afternoon.
The place was virtually empty except for one older woman sitting at the other end nursing her beer and keeping to herself. Anthony thought she could have been attractive, at least presentable, say twenty-five, thirty years ago. He heard the bartender ask if she needed a refill.
“Another one, hon?”
“Maybe just one more. I’ve got to be home by six. Important phone call. You’ll never guess from whom?”
Anthony never heard the answer as he passed her going to the men’s room. He nodded and smiled as he quickly checked her out. I must be getting really horny , he thought.
She stuck out her chest and smiled back politely.
She’s old enough to be my mother. Maybe my grandmother.
When he came out a few minutes later, she was gone.
Anthony had one more and then headed back to his bungalow.
I’ll begin looking for a job in the morning.
Now all he wanted to do was get off his feet and lay down. He wasn’t used to drinking in the middle of the afternoon.
By the time he fell asleep, the woman at the bar was sitting in her own place, waiting for the phone to ring. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was getting anxious.
***
The relationship between Bob Sugarman and Judge Kolkolski had decidedly taken a turn for the worse. The judge was now assigned to strictly civil cases, probably for the rest of his judicial career.
I hate it. I God damn hate it.
Sugarman had not tried a civil case in the past twenty years. This was what he lived for. Getting a guilty man off through the powers of persuasion. Conning the judge and jury. It was the ultimate high.
Neither was now in a position to help each other, even if they wanted to.
Robert was sure his very lucrative criminal law practice was now deep in the crapper because of Judge K. Had he not granted that stupid motion, he would be trying high profile felony cases instead of plea bargaining simple misdemeanor matters. He was also spending time in traffic court, the armpit of the system. Not only was it humiliating, but his attitude was foul, his wife avoided him when he came home, and he was getting retainers for $500, not five to twenty-five thousand.
Whatever possessed me to make that damn motion for a directed verdict? Sugarman constantly asked himself.
How could I have been naïve enough to think I could get away with granting his stupid request? Judge K kept wondering.
It’s his fault I am where I am.
It’s his fault this is all happening to me.
Two separate minds, one common thought.
Wally now sat at
After a week of hanging out at the beach for at least three hours a day, Anthony made several discoveries. First, he was getting bored just doing nothing. It wasn’t his style. Second, while he still had more than sixty-five hundred left of his stash, it wouldn’t last forever.
I need a job. Where can I work where I need no references? What am I qualified to do?
He had no clue.
It occurred to Anthony that although he had never been much of a stud, certainly not a ladies’ man, he had not had sex since the “incident,” the one that got him in all this trouble in the first place.
I need a girlfriend.
Anthony also realized he didn’t have a Florida driver’s license. He couldn’t even get a job as a pizza delivery boy if he wanted to.
Where can I get a job, any job, without proper identification? Social security and all that kinda crap. I’m screwed forever.
Anthony decided he needed a drink. Now.
It was only three in the afternoon.
***
The bar on Collins and 17 th was not much to look at. It was not what you would expect in Miami Beach but this was the older section. The much older section. What could be called seedy or rundown or at times downright unfriendly. That was where Anthony ended up. He knew damn well he wouldn’t be proofed. All he had to do was lay a twenty on the bar and he could drink beer all afternoon.
The place was virtually empty except for one older woman sitting at the other end nursing her beer and keeping to herself. Anthony thought she could have been attractive, at least presentable, say twenty-five, thirty years ago. He heard the bartender ask if she needed a refill.
“Another one, hon?”
“Maybe just one more. I’ve got to be home by six. Important phone call. You’ll never guess from whom?”
Anthony never heard the answer as he passed her going to the men’s room. He nodded and smiled as he quickly checked her out. I must be getting really horny , he thought.
She stuck out her chest and smiled back politely.
She’s old enough to be my mother. Maybe my grandmother.
When he came out a few minutes later, she was gone.
Anthony had one more and then headed back to his bungalow.
I’ll begin looking for a job in the morning.
Now all he wanted to do was get off his feet and lay down. He wasn’t used to drinking in the middle of the afternoon.
By the time he fell asleep, the woman at the bar was sitting in her own place, waiting for the phone to ring. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was getting anxious.
***
The relationship between Bob Sugarman and Judge Kolkolski had decidedly taken a turn for the worse. The judge was now assigned to strictly civil cases, probably for the rest of his judicial career.
I hate it. I God damn hate it.
Sugarman had not tried a civil case in the past twenty years. This was what he lived for. Getting a guilty man off through the powers of persuasion. Conning the judge and jury. It was the ultimate high.
Neither was now in a position to help each other, even if they wanted to.
Robert was sure his very lucrative criminal law practice was now deep in the crapper because of Judge K. Had he not granted that stupid motion, he would be trying high profile felony cases instead of plea bargaining simple misdemeanor matters. He was also spending time in traffic court, the armpit of the system. Not only was it humiliating, but his attitude was foul, his wife avoided him when he came home, and he was getting retainers for $500, not five to twenty-five thousand.
Whatever possessed me to make that damn motion for a directed verdict? Sugarman constantly asked himself.
How could I have been naïve enough to think I could get away with granting his stupid request? Judge K kept wondering.
It’s his fault I am where I am.
It’s his fault this is all happening to me.
Two separate minds, one common thought.
Wally now sat at
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