22 August 2012
3 months later...
Welcome to...The Place! Yes, it was now mine. Couldn't really think that anything else would be right, except the only name I ever called it. Turns out that Lloyd had given his solicitor a letter, just after he fell in with his drug lord paymasters. Reckon he must have known how things would probably turn out because the letter instructed the solicitor to find me and just hand over the spare keys, in the hope I'd take it over. I was a little reluctant at first, but I'd been in there so many times and had worked with Lloyd on the legitimate side of the business, so I thought it would be a shame to let it go. So I took it on. I had enough cash put by to pay for the repairs the place needed after that night, so I thought, what the hell, let's close it for a while, lick of paint, a few new touches, and have a grand opening night! And that's how it went. Opening night was a real success. All the regular patrons came back, and they bought many more with them. And they all kept coming back! I didn't really want to run the place, so I employed all new staff and a new manager. And as it turned out, his name was...Lloyd. I know, I know, I couldn't believe it either! But he's Lloyd, and not Lloyd, if you know what I mean. I sometimes think of him, my mate. I've visited him once, but he couldn't even look me in the eye, so it didn't last long. And I didn't want to waste my time with rage or hate toward him. But I don't plan on going back. So, here we are. Ten o'clock, nice and steady in The Place. There's that couple who could be models, still together and laughing. Oh look, there's the spy! And Marianne? Mary Ann? I hadn't seen her. Not even professionally. I sometimes allow myself a little think back, but it's just a memory. Until tonight. One of the things I brought in to The Place was a new jukebox and someone was in the corner feeding it with a couple of pound coins. A new song was playing now, an old one, but I recognised it. It was a Beatles song, you know the one, something about the way she moves... Feeling a smile play on my lips, still singing the song to myself, I had a slow look around. There, beyond the non model couple, and past James Not Bond, was a girl with long dark hair, making her way to the door. She glided... I was rooted to the spot. I'd managed to get the red wine out of my shirt, and oddly enough, I was wearing it tonight. I didn't really believe in coincidences. I couldn't make her face out properly as she left The Place. It couldn't be her.
Could it?
The End...
she pt.11 • Opuss № I