I get back to the bar. Winnie makes an obvious glance towards my bulge and gives me a big toothy grin. Like a ninja, I swiftly and quietly move back to my bar stool, like I was never missing. Some ridiculously pompous blue suit is sitting in the seat right next to Lily, on the opposite side of Stain.

He speaks in a loud and garish manner as those people sometimes do. “So you’re like a model?”

Before she can get a breath in, he continues. “I’ve never had drinks with a hot, redheaded model before. How much do you gals get paid?”

“I don’t really like to talk about money, and I’m not a model.”

“Yeah, right, but you do have red hair right? I mean, the fucking carpet matches the damn drapes, yah?”

Lily is very uncomfortable with this line of questioning. She’s finished her drink and hasn’t asked for another. Her shoulders are tight, almost up to her ears, and she keeps looking away from the suit, never directly at him.

Blue suit picks up his ringing cell, and begins talking even louder than before, as you often see from those people. “Hey Charlie, how the fuck are you, you ole piece of shit. What am I doin? I’m at a bar getting drunk with a hot redheaded model.”

He looks towards the wall, as his brain is clearly not capable of focusing on anything more than a basic conversation. Lily uses this as her chance to escape. On the way out, she puts her hand on Stain’s shoulder. “It was nice meeting you. I wish we had a chance to speak more, but I’m tired and need sleep now.”

Stain looks very disappointed. “It was my pleasure. I’ll see you again sometime.”

Lily gives me a passing nod. “Goodbye.”

“Bye Lily.”

Blue suit finally hangs up the phone, looks around and sees a complete absence of Lily. “Where’s the red bushed model gone?”

Stain is getting very angry – this isn’t good. He grabs knives when he’s angry. “Her name is Lily.”

Blue suit laughs. “I don’t give a flying fuck if her name is Henry, as long as she puts that beautiful mouth on my cock.”

. . . and now, it’s time for me to stop a situation from happening. I grab Stain’s shoulder and look over at Blue suit, while placing my credit card on the bar. “We have to get going.”

Winnie pushes the card back toward me. “It’s on me, as long as you come see me again.”

I lean way over the bar and kiss her on the lips, slowly, unapologetically; I take my time. “I’ll see you again. We have some unfinished business.”

Blue suit’s eyes are bulging out of his sockets, like he’s never seen two people kiss before. “Wow, how do I get in on this free beer? Do I have to make out with the bar wench too?”

Stain looks at me with his “can I kill this guy now” face, but I simply shake my head no.

I gesture to the suit. “Before I go, I was just out in the parking lot, and I think something might have happened to your car. You were driving the BMW, right?”

“No! Do you think I would be caught dead in that piece of shit? Fuck no! I drive a Jag, bitch!”

“Well, I’m not a car guy. I don’t know. Was it gold or tan or something?”

“Who the fuck do you think I am? Do I look 50 to you? A gold car, as fucking if.”

“It was dark – I guess it could have been grey or silver, and maybe it was just the light.”

He furls his brow and pinches his index finger together with his thumb, gesturing the pinch back and forth, toward and away from his face, sharply. “Silver, really? My car is Azurite Blue. Do I look like I bring fucking orange slices to the soccer team?”

“I suppose not. Good day to you?”

Stain and I walk outside and quickly begin looking for a blue Jag. We see it parked outside a row of rooms, and Stain is ready to take out every last bit of aggression on it, but he stops himself. “I don’t know if a superhero would do this type of thing.”

“Stain, man, real superheros don’t just fight crime, they make the world a better place. This is a bad person. You can tell that because he wears a blue suit.”

“That’s true, but don’t bad people need an example of kindness to be good?”

Stain has an excellent point. I nod. “I wasn’t going to hurt the car anyway. I just figured you deserved a go at him, and you know I don’t like physical violence. Maybe being a superhero is just always doing the right thing, even when you want to smash the car in.”

Stain has a look of admission on his face. “Yeah, or maybe being a superhero is recognizing the car is backed into the space, and it’s only taking up one space, but it’s not parked very straight.”


“With arrogance like that and bragging like he did about his car, he would park it perfectly straight in two spots, so people knew he did it on purpose, and he wouldn’t back it in. People who back in usually prepare for the future. He’s not that guy. We got played.”

“No way. He’s too stupid for that.”

We look at each other, speaking at the same time. “Bosses car.”

I look at the car one last time and start to walk away. “But we could leave a nasty note about the employee,” I suggest.

“No, let’s take the high road. Let’s be superheros.”

Son of Sappho Stain and Sappho , , ,

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