Brian Freeman - The Voice Inside

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Rudy said without removing his sunglasses or his hat. “Do you?”

“You look familiar, but you’re not a regular.”

“I guess I have that look,” Rudy said. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you a guy or a girl?”

The bartender didn’t look offended. “Depends. What are you into?”

“Girls.”

“I can pull that off, if you don’t mind some surplus parts.”

“Pass,” Rudy said. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay, your loss.” The bartender grabbed a towel and began wiping down the bar.

Rudy drank more of his gin and tonic. This one was strong. He looked around at the middling crowd in the bar again and decided that his plan needed some help. “Actually, I’m drowning my sorrows,” he told the bartender.

“Yeah? How so?”

“My girlfriend dumped me today.”

“Sorry about that.” His girlish eyes checked out Rudy’s face again. “I mean, you’re a decent looker and all. A rough type, but a lot of girls like that. You must have a couple bucks, too, if you’re ordering Bombay. You ask me, you should just forget about her and move on.”

Rudy slid a hand inside the pocket of his leather jacket and put two concert tickets on the bar. “Yeah, I’m not crying about it, but I’ve got two tickets for the Fillmore tonight. I don’t really want to go on my own.”

“Who’s playing?”

“Japandroids. I could sell the tickets, but I’d like to hear them play.”

“No kidding? You ready for decibels like that? You don’t look like the ‘Evil’s Sway’ type.”

Rudy cocked his head. “What?”

The bartender laughed, as if Rudy were speaking a different language. “Um, duh? That’s one of their songs?”

“Oh. Sure.” Rudy laughed, too, but he seethed inwardly at his mistake. That was what happened when he didn’t have the time to anticipate every detail. “Anyway, I’m looking for a girl who wants to go with me. I figure somebody must want a free show, right? Plus, it’ll just kill my girlfriend.”

“Revenge. Nice.”

Rudy reached into his jacket again and found a fifty-dollar bill that he slid across the bar. “I was hoping you might be able to help me hook up. It’s always a little easier when you’ve got somebody to break the ice, know what I mean?”

The cash disappeared into the bartender’s pocket. “An icebreaker, sure. I’ve been known to do that. What kind of companionship are we talking about? If you want the paid kind, I have to make some calls.”

“Not paid,” Rudy said, “but let’s say open-minded about what happens after the concert.”

“Alcohol has been known to open many a closed mind,” the bartender told him.

Rudy slid another fifty across the bar. “Well, work your magic.”

The bartender pursed his lips to blow him a kiss, and he disappeared. Rudy stopped trolling the bar and decided to let his wingman do the talking. He nursed his drink. Somewhere in the bar, he heard the noise of bad karaoke, but he didn’t recognize the song. That was the price of four years away from the music scene.

His volcano roll came. It was an artistic blend of spicy tuna, cucumber, avocado, and shrimp tempura. The sauce had kick. He alternated between the fiery sushi and the cold cocktail. He stared straight ahead, ignoring the other people in the bar, but his senses were alert. Conversations drifted in and out of his head. Every few minutes, he examined his hand again, his killing hand, as if it belonged to someone else. His fingers were still steady as a rock.

Half an hour passed.

Then, behind him, he heard the tap of feminine heels. Perfume broke over him like the opening of a candy shop door. Lips brushed his ear, along with a voice that had trouble putting together words. “So what’s your name?”

He turned as a thirty-something brunette poured herself onto the stool next to him. She wore a black dress down to her knees. Half a martini was in her hand.

“Rudy. What’s yours?”

“Magnolia,” she said, drawing out the first syllable with her mouth slightly open.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“It’s the name of a tree. I am a tree. A magnolia tree.” She drew it out again as Maggggggggnolia .

“Well, magnolia trees have lovely flowers,” he said.

“That’s a sweet thing to say. You’re sweet.” Her tongue licked the wet rim of her martini glass, and she took a swallow of her drink, which was pink with a layer of white foam.

“Do you come to this place a lot?” he asked.

“First time.”

“Me, too. What brings you here, Magnolia?”

“I never leave my apartment. I work all the time, and I’m sick of it. Tonight, I promised myself I would go out and have fun.”

“What do you do?”

“I code. I’m a programmer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You know, so my fingers are really, really nimble.”

Magnolia blinked seductively, but she had some trouble focusing. He suspected the bartender had concocted strong drinks for her. Her big eyes were blue, and she wore matching eyeshadow that was a little too dark and applied a little too thickly. In the scarlet glow of the bar, she was pretty, but her lips kept squeezing into an embarrassed smile. She tossed her long hair nervously out of her face.

“So whatcha eating, Rudy?”

He had two pieces of sushi left. “A volcano roll. Want some?”

“Okay.”

He picked up a piece of sushi, dipped it into a bowl of soy sauce mixed with wasabi, and slid it into her open mouth. She smiled and chewed at the same time in a failed attempt at sexiness. When she swallowed, he leaned over with his napkin and wiped away a little drop of soy sauce that had dribbled from her lip.

“Mmm. Spicy.”

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Sure. Spicy is good.”

He smiled and watched her stare intently at him as she drained the last of her martini. Her eyes squinted, as if she’d begun to realize he looked like someone she’d seen before. This was the delicate moment, wondering whether she would put two and two together. The face on the news. The face in the bar, hiding behind sunglasses. Sometimes people could recognize a photograph come to life, and sometimes they couldn’t.

She didn’t make the connection.

“I hear you have tickets to Japandroids at the Fillmore,” Magnolia said.

“I do.”

“I love them.”

“Well, maybe you’d like to go to the concert with me.”

“Well, maybe I would.” She squirmed on the chair; she wasn’t good at this. “You got dumped, huh? That’s what the bartender said.”

“Yeah.”

“Getting dumped sucks. I got dumped last month.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t really like him. Screw both of them, right? We don’t need them.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Do you smoke?” Magnolia asked.

“No.”

“Good. I don’t like smokers. They stink. Smoking will kill you, you know.”

“I’ve heard that,” Rudy said.

“When’s the concert?”

“Pretty soon.”

“Guess we should go,” she said.

“I guess.”

He climbed off the bar stool, and he held out an elbow for her. She giggled, stumbled a bit as she disentangled herself from the chair, and held on tightly as he pointed her toward the stairs. She had trouble climbing back to the street, and she grabbed the railing in a death grip for support. Outside, it was a little wet, and he took the fedora he was wearing and dropped it on her head.

She grabbed the brim with both hands and smoothed it. She tilted the hat far forward on her face. “Cool. Bet I look cool with this.”

“You do.” Rudy patted the pockets of his jacket. “Hey, I forgot something at the bar. Wait right here, okay? I won’t be thirty seconds.”