Noir: A Sucker Born Every Decade

My head was still spinning but adrenaline was doing a good job acting like an endorphin.

Now or never Vincenzo.

I pushed open the kitchen door marked “OUT” and re-entered the fray. It was uncanny how her table was front and center. It was the worst table in the house, good old Fabrizio…

He was there, back to me, but scanning as well. I saw his profile, did not recognize him. That did not surprise me. Although I had met Maryanne years ago, even after marriage I had not scratched the surface of her past. We fought too much to engage in reminiscing our previous lives.

This guy could be anyone, but she was romantically poised in her chair. Chin forward, chest out, giggling, all her comforting, sensual habits on display for him, and me…

Focus Vincenzo!

The Topaz didn’t care one bit for this micro-drama at table 21. I had a club to run, Mr. D. would be here any minute. I had to clear my head for him. He was the dangerous one. He required my undivided attention.

Who was he though?!

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