The Whiskey Detective Flash Fiction Collection |Reversed Couch Jul 17 Posted by DAMM I looked up at the long unpainted sign that said “The Golden Goddess – Lodging, Dining and Ambrosia” swing in the wind. It was one of those old wooden ones that hung on a swing hinge and it was above a set of a formerly expensive and ornate French doors. I was hoping to catch the owner of this dive before his reputed insight from his formidable drinking kicked in for the night. As a woman I also wanted out of there before the riff-raff showed up. But business is business and if it means getting the promotion Carrie is after than I will even come to this backwater hick town. Landau, Luckman and Dodds wanted this bar for some reason and as a property specialist there was nothing that wasn’t for sale if you explained it to them the way Mr. Dodds told you to. I smiled as I thought of my father. The most feared man in corporate business, Dirk Dodds was called the Great White Land Shark for a reason and whether he recognized me as such or not I was still his daughter after all. So I went in, to beat Carrie out of a promotion, make dad proud and get a pile of cash as well. I was confident; I AM after all a drop dead gorgeous woman of thirty one, big chest, long legs and small butt. It isn’t easy to hide the imperfections and believe me there are many ( just ask daddy) but to be a shark – a few sacrifices need to be made. The teeth are important. No one respects anything but power, and powerful women are intimidating. I figured if I couldn’t buy my way into owning this bar I could always seduce my way in. First though, I had to FIND Brendan Sigil, the owner and one time esteemed writer of literature, poems or some damn girlie man thing. In fact, if my research was right (and it was always impeccable) he got this bar as the only thing for his estate in a nasty divorce. I smiled. Damaged men are like putty in a pretty girls hands, because they always want to be loved. If he was the hopelessly romantic type then the answer was just a little more damage. Men. How did they ever take over the world to begin with? I liked my chances. As my eyes adjusted to the smoky darkness that awaited me inside the Goddess. I was noticed right away. This midtown Manhattan girl in a western Colorado small town bar is bound to do that. I thought I had dressed down but… not enough. I looked more like a Grand Ol’ Opry version of these hard living folks. I shuddered because I was a little afraid – and excited. The kind of excited when you know there is no physical danger but the unknown weighs like a mugger in an alley and you want to watch things fall apart. I slowly, deliberately and as casually as I could walked to the table nearest the bar. A two top with a dirty spoon and red and white checkered tablecloth that I found welcoming despite the hideous design. A forty something drink slinger came up and asked me what I wanted to drink. She was tall and had once been beautiful but you could tell she was stuck here not die to her ability but because of an emotional bag the size of Detroit. Her name tag read “Its Maggie not Sweetheart” and I knew instantly what her baggage was. She loved someone who wasn’t in love with her. She was hung up on hope. It was cute in the saddest possible way. “Hello, welcome to the Goddess. What can I get you?” She said this with a territorial tone and and a sizing up of the stranger in town look. She didn’t like me already. I always have this effect on women, especially those who haven’t applied themselves. The ones who wanted love and family instead of money and status. What? Do they think I was just handed all of this? But her resentment – while present – wasn’t what shocked me. She was genuinely concerned about something. No – someone. Probably the same sad sack she was wasting her life for in this dump. It was probably someone either unreachable or uninterested. As unattainable as possible I would bet is the only type of man good enough. Jeez, I thought I had daddy issues. When I answered I got all the information I needed. “Gin and tonic to drink, but I am here to see Brendan Sigil.” She blanched and fake smiled me. She subconsciously glanced at a table on a small riser in the back with one man and the biggest bottle of Wild Turkey I had ever seen occupying the space. Bar sized bottle and what was more it was immersed in a half- total darkness all I could see were the hands, the bottle, the drink sand the edge of the table. He was already watching me though I could feel it. Wow, this was going to be easier than I thought, I remember thinking to myself. It wasn’t the last time I was wrong that night. Not by a long shot. She pointed to the table shrouded in pain and bourbon and said, ” Mr Sigil is back there. He’s the owner. I’ll bring your drink to you back there.” Although I didn’t know it – those were the last words I heard before I was deconstructed to atoms and blown into the wind. No one told me there were men who ate sharks from the inside out.
Posted on: Wed, 17 Jul 2013 17:00:46 +0000
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