the laptop's gone

The Go-Gos “We Got the Beat” belted out of his phone. Damn. He’d forgotten that his ex had set that as his ringtone for when his boss called. It had been that long since he’d gotten a call from his boss. Even longer since she left him in Memphis without a penny to his name, just a couple of credit cards.

“Hello?” he answered. He’d thought about not answering it, but he would eventually need to get back to work and get a paycheck to pay off those credit cards.

“Yeah, Jimmy, this is Rodney.”

“How you doing, sir?” He hated calling him sir, and only did it when he knew he had to be professional. This was definitely one of those times.

“Jimmy,” he continued. “I know things have been hard for you, buddy, but damn it, you’ve got to get back to the office. We’re in deep shit here. The SEC is coming in to scope out whether or not we were on the right or wrong side of the whole Skittle problem.”

The Skittle problem. The code word they two of them had come up with for the donations to the local congressman. The donations that exceeded the federally allowed limits. The donations that were worth breaking the law so they could get the zoning changed in downtown. Well, changed for one block only. That allowed for a bar. Jimmy’s bar. Modeled completely after the bar Quentin Tarantino ran in the movie “Death Proof”. All the way down to the AMI Continental jukebox. Although the music was slightly different – made up completely of Jimmy’s collection. A collection he started with the express goal of stocking a jukebox in his bar one day. He was 44 years old and had finally got that jukebox stocked in a bar. And he was happy. Until three weeks ago.

That’s when she left him in Memphis. They’d had sex in the morning. Darn good sex. Not the greatest sex ever, but better than the average fuck. He’d gone to get breakfast. When he came back to the hotel room, she was gone. So was his car. So was his computer. With all the information about the bar, the congressman and the bar. He’d kept it on that computer. One that he never got on the internet with. One that he’d paid for with cash in a back alley in Durham. Now, it was gone. Just like her.

She’d seen him get nervous about the impending investigation. He’d started drinking heavily due to it. And she didn’t like it. She’d told him so, but he didn’t do anything about it. So, that night, after they’d driven all the way to Memphis to go see Graceland – she’d never seen Graceland – she was gone.

All he had left was an empty wallet – she took the debit card and the cash. Well, it had two credit cards and his driver’s license. But no car.

“Yeah, I checked out of the hotel at 5:30,” he told his boss.

“Then what the fuck are you still doing there?”

“I don’t have a car.”

“Fuck, Jimmy. You haven’t had a car in three weeks now. Go to fucking Alamo or Avis and get one! I need you here. Now!”

“I can’t do that right now, Rodney. I’ve got to find her.”

“She’s not there, man. She’s not there.”

“Bullshit. She wouldn’t leave me. We loved each other. Never even fought. I mean, I drank too much these last couple of months, but hell, we met while drinking to forget. Drinking to get away. Just because she is now a success and I’m, well, still me, that didn’t matter to her.”

“I know it didn’t matter,” Rodney said. “But I think the Feds got to her.”

“Fuck no, man. She’d never do that.”

“If it meant ruining her career? Are you so sure?”

“What the fuck, man? You’re just being an asshole. Trying to knock a wedge between me and her. You always hated that I got her.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I wanted to fuck your girlfriend too. And didn’t. You want to know why? Because you fell in love with her. That’s why.”

“Shit. You just want me to get mad, don’t you,” Jimmy said, trying not to throw his phone against the wall. It was the one thing he had that she could contact him on, so he had to keep his patience.

“Jimmy, just get on a plane, rent a car, fucking jump on a Greyhound and get back to Raleigh, man. We’ve got to fix this little problem we have.”

“Ok, man. I’ll rent a car. That’ll put me there in a few days.”

“Do it. Now.”

He hung up the phone. The thought hadn’t left his mind since Rodney mentioned it. “I think the Feds got to her.” It made no sense that she took his laptop. It was his place to write every morning. Why did she take it? He had wondered that more than why she left for the past three weeks.

Now, it appeared, he had that reason.

“Fuck,” he thought. “I’ve got to get a drink.”

He called a cab. It came 11 minutes later.

“Take me to the Buccaneer,” he said.

“No problem, man,” the cabbie said. “You’re starting early today, huh?”

“Never stopped.”

“I hear ya.”

The cab took off. Soon, he was at the bar. Staring at the old sign with the Pirate on it. A woman was sitting at a table out front. All alone. Two years ago, he would’ve joined her. But, he wasn’t that guy anymore.

He didn’t really know what he was anymore. A criminal? A lover? A deadbeat? All of them, apparently.

He went in an ordered a shot and a beer.

That’s when he felt it. A hand on his shoulder. He didn’t look into the mirror. He knew who it was.