Chapter 2

Frank had meet her a year earlier at a Casino. Sitting alone at a long bar overlooking the roulette tables. Both quietly enjoying their drinks. She a petite Latin American beauty, with long black hair. And Frank, well he looked like anyone else chasing the elusive dream of beating the house. Jotting down numbers in an attempt to see a ripple, a pattern, where others saw chaos. It was two steps forwards, one step back, one step forward, two steps back. Only to end up back to where he began.

The game kept him entertained. It kept him sane. After the torment of his ex-wife, he avoided women like the plague. It was safer that way. But that was before Marilyn. It was as if the universe had conspired against him this evening.

“What are you doing?” She had asked curiously beside him.

“Oh ... just taking numbers down.”

“What for?”

“It’s cheaper than playing ... it’s what we accountants do for fun ... so, what’s your name?” He asked making light conversation.

“Marilyn.” She replied, flashing hazel brown eyes.

Exchanging a smile that suggested there could be more to their meeting.

“That’s a nice name ...” he complemented her, “... I’m Frank.”

Further small talk revealed Marilyn was married.

With a husband still in Mexico, she waited tables at a Mexican restaurant, sending money back to her family in Tijuana. It was a relationship he had trouble understanding. But one which she had little trouble accepting. Within a month of casual meetings they had fallen into bed and became lovers. Breaking Frank’s sexual drought. And finding a peace he had long since forgotten. It was not long after she moved in, and their relationship began. A relationship of convenience. It could never be any more than that. Being Catholic, the writing was on the wall unless something happened to her husband. No doubt he had a mistress tending to his own carnal digressions, thought Frank.

It was better not to think about the entangled affairs. Knowing it could end at any time. She filled a hole in his life. As no doubt he filled one in hers. Worries of his ex-wife soon faded as he found himself falling in love with her. This time he had nothing to lose. The emotional bank was empty. Marilyn was the perfect lover. Sensual. Sensitive. Seductive. Everything he ever wanted in a woman. Everything his ex-wife was not.

Compared with Marilyn. There was no comparison.

Frank glimpses the mirror on the wall and sees the reflection of the man looking at him.

‘Who was he? IRS? Debt collector?’ Suspicious thoughts race through his mind.

Frank gulps a mouthful of bourbon before the ice had a chance to dilute the holy spirit. And turned about hoping to catch the man staring. Only find him reading the newspaper.

“Psst ... Tomo ...” Frank catches his attention.

Tomo moved closer polishing a glass in his hand.

“What’s up? You want another one already?”

“Nah ... I’m good ... What’s with the guy in the dark suit? Keeps looking at me.” Frank whispered trying to keep his voice down.

Tomo looks over to the man sitting quietly in the booth.

“Don’t know ... been here a few times now ... just sits there and reads the paper. Keeps to himself ... always looking about at people. Don’t take it personally ... unless he hits on you ... want me to have a word with him?”

“Nah. Nah. I’m good ... just get a feeling I’m going to be served with something.”

“What you been up to?” Grinned Tomo.

“Nothing I swear .... just a feeling.” A worried look comes over Frank.

“Well ... get that drink down you ... looks more like one of them secret agents if you ask me ... Maybe he thinks you’re looking at him.” Turning the tables on Frank’s paranoid thoughts.

“Yeah, maybe one more before I head off. Marilyn will be waiting.” Suggested Frank hoping to shake the suspicious thought.

“Okay ... but it’s your last one ... you have to drive. Though I doubt the cops will be out in this weather ...” Said Tomo pouring two fingers into the glass and a fresh cube of ice. “... hope that’s not your dinner.”

“Wish it was.” Frank relished the thought.

The day had passed like any other that week. Slow. Gloomy. Grey. And wet.

Checking his phone for emails and missed calls. Nothing. Thinking he would jump online later. Hit the employment sites, sending out his resume to all and sundry. Hoping someone would nibble and take the bait and see some worth in him. The market was saturated with unemployed accountants.

Younger, smarter, and cheaper.

“Damn Merchant Bankers ... if I had a gun ... I’d ...” Frank began wishful thinking.

“Careful what you wish for Frank.” Said Tomo overhearing him.

Rain smeared the windows as the lights of passing vehicles suggested it was late and he that would soon be joining them. Seeing the glass was empty, pushes it forward and releases it from his grip. Sliding off the bar stool which had held him captive for the past four hours, stood and steadied himself.

“You okay to drive? ...” Asked Tomo with concern, “... I can call you a cab.”

“I’ve been called worse ...”, he joked, “... yeah-nah ... I’m good. Just a little stiff ...catch you tomorrow.” Pulling on a heavy jacket to face the howling weather outside.

Turning briefly he looks back over his shoulder to the man in the booth.

Now looking directly at him. Observing his departure. The man gave a subtle nod as if to wish him farewell and resumed his paper. Frank dismissed the gesture. Keen to get to his car and home in one piece.

‘Cops won’t be out in this.’ He thought as long as he did not hit anyone on the way.

Pulling up the collars of the overcoat, pulled open the bar door and was immediately struck in the face by a wall of cold air. He hurries outside, closing the door quickly behind him. He looks about to where he thought he had last parked his car.

A cherry red ‘56 Buick.

It was not hard to spot among the imports. His last prized possession. The one thing he had managed to retain from the train wreck of a marriage. Digging hands into pockets to find some comfort from the buffeting wind and to find the keys.

Just then a squad car cruises pass. He watches them cautiously to see if the officers have noticed him. Only to have the squad car drive on unaware of the popsicle on the sidewalk fumbling for his keys. Sliding onto the red leather bench seat quickly closes the door behind him to shut out the biting cold. Cocooned inside the beast’s belly he tries to focus. The key finds the ignition slot. A V8 rumbles to life first time. Purring softly as a sedated foot rocked the accelerator. A harmonic rumble massaged his body.

“Take me home Sweetie.” Frank beseeched his classic love.

Windshield wipers blinked back and forth in unison.

Smearing the rain drop tears, side to side. Lights flooded the immediate drenched road ahead. Sending tracker beams in search of the cat eyes. Frank joined the dots. Traffic crawled as heavy rain hindered their visibility. The sound of muffled rain pounded on the roof above.

The Buick knew the back roads back to his apartment better than Frank did.

Eyes strained to focused on the road ahead. Through the driving rain. Wondering if he had had one too many just as the Buick drifted into the adjacent lane. A car sounded a horn in protest. Startling him to correct at the last moment.

The other driver flips him a birdie and accelerates passed him.

“Fuck you too!” Frank cursed back.

Now was not to time to engage in social intercourse. The last thing he needed was a cop asking him to blow into a breathalyzer. Taking his foot off the peddle, distanced himself from the vehicle in front. Turning down a side street and the Buick parked itself outside a three-story apartment building. Frank looked up at the building, to his apartment.

The lights were on. Marilyn was home.

Killing the engine and lights. He took in the silence, recollected on the man at the bar. Intuition was telling him there was something more than just a stranger passing through town. The thought unsettled him.

“Hmm ...”, summing up everything he knew about the man. “...we’ll see if you’re there tomorrow.”

Assessing the weather outside the window and peels himself from the seat like a banana skin. Adjusting his jacket to prevent the bite of the wind and rain. And hurried inside the apartment building.

Climbing the flight of stairs to the first floor.

“Honey I’m home!’ He called out.

“In here bad man.” Marilyn called back.

Finding Marilyn in the kitchen over a pot, stirring gently.

“Hey sweetie ... how was your day?” Kissing the top of her head.

“Good ... yours?” Smelling the bourbon on his breath.

“Same as ever ...”, wrapping his arms around her, feeling the warmth of her body against his. “...it’s nasty out there.”

“You’re nasty ... and cold!” She protested attempting to shake herself free.

“I know ... and you’re warm and lovely.” Reluctant to let her go.

“Go wash up while I dish up.” She ordered him.

“You’re no fun.” He protested.

“Later bad man.” Shrugging him away.

“Okay, I’m holding you to it.”

“You always do.” Grinning.

Frank heads to the bathroom and splashes warm water on his numb face.

Hoping to awaken from the bourbon induced slumber. And looked at a reflection in the mirror.

“Who are you?” He asked the man staring back at him.

The answer never came. The Man in the Mirror knew as much as he did. Yet the Man in the Mirror was responsible for where Frank found himself.

“It’s on the table!” Marilyn called out from the kitchen.

“I’m coming! ...”, he called back, “... I’m coming ...”

The Man in the Mirror watches him leave ...