Audiobook Sample - "Requiem For An Old-Fashioned"
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EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
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Thursday, 11:45 p.m. The Night and Day lounge one glance and l fees Heart sank an hour ago, jokes and music filled the room. Now the empty space reeked of stale smoke. Slick grease hung in the air. Elf could taste it. Ashes and cigarette butts spilled from the orange. Plastic ashtrays and glasses, mostly empty, littered the tables, crumpled napkins and bits of paper nestled in soil. Tablecloths, drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet pounded a sink. The night and day lounge needed. Alfie Greenblatt and Alfie needed a job. Nights like tonight, he turned a few bucks into a week's pay alphabet. Ed Sullivan couldn't do any better. The smallish man idolized Ed Sullivan. Even looked a bit like him somewhere around the chins. Good thing this place made money and lots of it. Cheese. Would you look at this place? Time to close. Get a drink. Wait a second. Who is the blonde in the corner? While he guessed he could wait, he didn't need to close just yet. Not with this mess. Not with that blonde in the corner. He remembered her now raspy voice. Scarlet nails, old fashioned extra Cherries on the side, please. Would you look at this place? Tonight's crowd left early. They must be tired, tired of calling strange numbers that never picked up or worse, talking to a recording that promised to call back. But never did. Elf considered the trash, the drunks and the quick talkers ready to close up Samos. Him. He would this very minute, except for the blonde in the corner. Hey watched her for a while and still he didn't understand. She didn't touch the drink except a grip. The tumblr, the condensation slipping between her fingers. She wasn't a bad looking girl, even if she was a little on the chunky side. Nothing wrong with broad hips. He knew plenty of guys who like that in a woman. Same as those cheekbones. And don't forget that blond hair. That's what grabbed him every time Healthy Noticed that Alfie had to admit he never heard a woman order a drink like this lady. What did she say? Her name? Waas. Barbara. Call me Barbara, she said in a voice so soft he could barely hear it. She stared into his eyes with a steady gaze when she spoke and her moist lips quivered. I'd like an old fashioned extra Cherries or and orange slices to, if you don't mind. She tossed a tense half smile in his direction, and Justus quickly looked away into the shadows. This Barbara was a hummingbird on a high wire nervous type. He guessed this'd been, oh, a couple of hours ago now. Guys packed the joint. Plenty stopped at her table, yet none stayed. None snagged her interest. Alfie noticed that, too. All night, her red fingertips grip that Tumblr condensation dribbled on the scratch tabletop. Pay. Barbara, he said. You okay? Alfie wiped his hands on a striped dish towel. For a moment, he thought he had spotted a tear on her cheek with a slight glance over her broad shoulder. She rose. She snatched her purse, a dangling black leather piece she pressed to her body. Now she turned to leave the last one to go. Alfie, shuffle to the deserted table. One faded, old fashioned, coming right up. The red stem from the scarlet cherry floated in the glass, ragged at the end from a careless bite. The droplets from the tumbler glistened beneath the dim lights. Ah, Mr Barbara stood at the front door. The red exit sign glowed above her head. Yeah, Elfi considered the blonde her gloved hand poised on the grimy door knob. Look, Lady Barbara, is it? I like to go home sometime tonight. You know, Alfie knew he sounded impatient. He didn't mean to but Gees the type of people he got through here these days. Barbara extended her hand. Her long fingers clutched an obscure treasure. What is this? Elfi began to sweat. What does she want from me? I waited all night, but he never came. She murmured. Alfie squinted into the shadows. What did you say? If he comes, could you give him this? The John Dis light revealed a crinkled manila envelope sealed with tape. Look, lady, the blonde checked her watch. You seem like a nice man, Mr. I tried to give it to him myself, but I've got to go now. I should have been there half a hour ago. Barbara thrust the envelope in tow, Alfie's callused hands and pushed her way into the brisk night air. Where you going, lady? Who's the lucky guy anyways? Without a word, she trotted along the cracked sidewalk. Neon signs glistened in her platinum hair like jewels in a Tierra. The glow of a winter moon peeked through the clouds of the night. The narrow street looked lonely. For a moment. Alfie stood in the frigid night air and watched her vanish into the darkness. He retreated to the warm bar. His thick fingers clutched the envelope. What should he do with it? Well, whatever it was, couldn't be very important. Person didn't just trust a strange with valuable stuff. He wouldn't. Elfi strode to the cash register and open the drawer for a second. He wanted to open the envelope but decided against it. What do you care, anyway? He shoved it into the cold cash register and locked the drawer. He felt too exhausted to care its owner would either show up or not. He snatched his coat from the cramped back room and slammed the door behind him. Then he heard it. Chris Pop of a gunshot. If that wasn't a bullet, he wasn't Alfie Greenblatt. His heart pounded like a jackhammer hiss. Pace quickened, heaving. He strode in the opposite direction. He knew he should have brought the car tonight. But just yesterday the doctor told him, Alfie, you've got to get more exercise. The muscles in his legs cramped, his breath wafted in puffs and the icy air forced him to cough. He reached the pitted door to his apartment. Yeah, finally, his throat constricted. He tried to swallow, but he couldn't breathe. Was he choking or getting sick again? Oh, no, not again. He couldn't afford that. No, he was just upset. Yeah, that was it. For some dumb reason. He felt nervous. Him healthy. Greenblatt Nervous over what? Elfi couldn't put his finger on it. A silly note. Some weepy woman. Ah, Bullet? Yeah, most probably The boat. He jammed the key into the old lock and turned. It was a good night to stay home. Yeah, some day, Miss, I get you Saturday 4:10 p.m. The night and day lounge behind the bar. Alfie sprayed the counter with disinfectant and wipe down the Formica. He preferred to begin the evening with a clean slate, so to speak. Especially a big party. Besides cleaning the joint relaxed him. He turned up the radio and a hum to the oldies. Alfie loved oldies. This was his favorite time of the day or night, depending on how a person looked at things. So the person that slipped in through the back door did not seem unusual. Alfie had left it unlocked for the bakery guy to deliver the giant decorated cake. The single reason Elfi looked up at that moment was the blast of frigid air caused by the slamming door. He found himself peering into the darkened hallway in the rear of the bar at the shadowy outline of a man. A little wave of surprise descended upon him. Not exactly fear, but he'd never seen this guy before. And besides, he should have used the front door. If he was a customer, that is. Maybe he was here to deliver the cake. Yeah, that was it. I was expecting you, Alfie, said Cohen in Alfie Greenblatt's The Name. I guess you already knew that part. The guy just stood there again. Elfi peered into the dimness to him. The guy looked dirty, dirty, as in needed. A bath wasn't even wearing a real shirt, just another sure. Paired with some worn jeans with holes in the knees, the frayed edges skimmed the tops of his scuffed black boots. That brown shoulder length hair, probably hadn't seen a comb for at least a few days, and what was with the gold earring couldn't make out the guy's face. He'd have to get closer to see any of it. He dropped the rag that reeked of disinfectant and wiped his hands on his apron before advancing into the short, dark hallway. Still, the guy didn't move. Listen, Alfie said, it might be easier for you to come in the other door. With that delivery, he scanned the cramps space that surrounded the stranger. So where is it? The man stepped towards him, You know, Alfie felt confused. Is it outside? You tell me. His voice sounded gruff and throaty. The voice of an impatient chain smoker wasn't pal. I'm trying to get ready for a big party here. I don't have time for games, you know. With that, the man stepped out of the gloom and grab the collar of Alfie's flannel shirt with his left arm. He squeezed Alfie's neck until he spluttered and coughed. Alfie's eyes bulged while the man pressed the cold steel of a blade on the pudgy man's throat. You think I have a lot of time, the man said. Now Where is it? Where's what? Man tightened his hold on Alfie's neck and grazed his throat with the blade of the knife. The blade pricked his flushed skin and droplets of blood. Whose? To the surface. I'll cut you damn fool! Do you hear me? Now? Where is it? What do you want from me? Alfie, guest. Look, you want around me? OK? Take my cash, right? Just help yourself. I even got anything else. Yes, you do. OK, there's a gun under the counter there. That's it. No, it's not. You know what I'm talking about. The envelope, Barbara. It wasn't in her purse. Was she here? It's all in the cash register, I'm telling you. All right, that's it. Sweet dreams. Greenblatt the man drew the blamed across Alfie's neck in a deep slash with a muffled gag. Alfie, slow to the floor on his way out. The man grabbed the gun and yank that the drawer of the cash register. God damn, he yelled. He kicked at the register. It refused to budge. Elfi hadn't gotten around to unlocking it yet. And now he never would thing. Some day you'll miss me. I get you