Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All characters and names are fictional and were made up. I do not make money from these stories. Please do not copy and plagiarize my work.
This story was a request from my good friend Angry Dutchman. The celeb choice and themes came from him, enjoy!
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Miami, Florida
Lights flickered in the distance. Blue and purple hues became visible briefly on the surface of the wooden bar. The wood grain was highlighted, showing wear from the surface fading away from years of use. Countless numbers of glasses and bottles slid across the bar in a rough timespan of at least fifteen years. This place went through multiple name changes and rebrandings over time. The pandemic saw its doors close and management change, along with the neon lights outside. Change came and went while a business like this stayed the same. No matter what name was lit up on the sign outside, the same people came and went as they did with the previous business. For anyone working here long enough, they became accustomed to seeing the same faces come and go in the passing weekdays. The bartender was one of the lucky ones to have kept his job between the new and old management buying out the business.
"One more?"
The bartender offered a smile to one of his most well-known customers. A man sat on the middle stool with an empty glass in front of him. Strands of gray hair were visible in places that once completed a jet black look. His face was always clean-shaved, showing a few wrinkles that would tell anyone that the man had seen his fair share of life. Anyone who worked at this place for more than a year knew Marcel's face. He came and went every Tuesday and Wednesday. Sometimes he showed up on a Thursday evening, but never on the weekend. His choice of drink was always Jack Daniels. Nothing fancy or special, as he liked to have three shots and then sit around. Few people who sat next to Marcel could say he engaged in any conversation besides the usual small talk. There was a time when he went by the name of Officer Favera. In another lifetime, it was Detective Favera. A man with a badge who carried himself with prestige.
He shook his head at the bartender, refusing another glass. Marcel could tell most people that he had lived several lifetimes. But he also knew that no one wanted to hear the stories of a disgraced former cop. Twenty-six years were erased from his life following a scandal that pushed him into retirement. The newspapers ate up the story in connection with a shootout that was reminiscent of days long gone in the city. There was no way he could get back the years lost at the job. Two divorces and many broken friendships and relationships had left him with nothing to gain or lose after walking away. If not for one mistake involving a friend at the job, he would probably still have his job at the vice department. Marcel knew all about regrets in life, but he still held his head high despite the tarnishing of his reputation. If the case had gone to trial, it may have proven dangerous for him to show his face in public like this.
Pride and glory were lost on him after he retired. There was no wife or family to go home to after retirement. Maybe that was why he decided to spend his weeknights at a bar like this. Marcel had opportunities to cash in on his long years of experience as a homicide detective, but he didn't want to see his face on camera anywhere. It would just be a reminder to everyone else involved in the one scandal that rocked the sixth precinct. Some years had passed, but the weight was still there in the back of his mind. People would forget something after a while and move on to the next scandal. That was the course of life. Marcel was happy to be forgotten and lost in time, but life was not the same. Adjusting to a lifestyle outside of being a cop had proven to be more difficult than he imagined. After his divorce ten years ago, he spent his time out on the street. The job was his life more than anything outside of it. To have that taken away had changed him as a man.
On a night like this, he couldn't help but think about the past. Five years ago, he would be out on the street, getting calls from dispatch to check crime scenes. Eleven years of his career were spent in the homicide division, working with the organized crime unit. To become desensitized to some of the things he witnessed was only normal. It left a numb feeling that he did not miss. Sitting there, gazing at his empty glass, Marcel listened to the door opening. He was the only person sitting at the bar, while a few others were sitting in private booths across the room. A jukebox sat against the wall, going unused most of the nights Marcel was here. Most of the songs were old hits that were easily recognizable from the 80s and 90s decades. Reminders of simpler times. He heard the door open behind him and the tapping of heels across the floor. A subtle sigh from a voice that sounded as if it belonged to a woman. He didn't turn to look until she moved to his right side. The bartender offered a friendly smile and nodded.
"What can I get you, ma'am?"
"A martini would be nice."
"Any special flavor?"
"Can you do strawberry?"
The bartender nodded with a smile.
"Give me just a minute, and I'll fix one up for you."
Marcel turned to glance around his right side, as the woman had a seat next to him. She sat her purse on the bar. It was a simple tote bag made up of pink faux leather with double straps. Locks of brunette hair covered her face. She seemed to know he was looking her way, so she turned to offer a friendly smile. A shade of light green eyes gazed back at him.
"Hello."
She greeted him with a nod.
"Hi there. I don't think I've ever seen you come in here before."
"Well, you wouldn't know me. This is my first time. I take it that you're a regular visitor here."
Marcel nodded at her with a smile. She looked to be at least twenty years younger than him upon first speculation of her age. A young woman getting out into the world and learning things. A white crop top covered her chest with a slight hint of cleavage. Her stomach was exposed, which would have revealed her belly button if only she were still standing. Denim blue jeans matched her white top to make a typical casual outfit. On first guess, Marcel wondered if she was a tourist. Knowing the type of people this town attracted, she could have been anyone.
"You have the look of a man who has seen his fair share of life. What's your name?"
"That's funny of you to say. I was just looking at you and thinking, I'm old enough to be your father or something."
She blushed, raising her eyebrows, before laughing at him. The bartender was busy making her drink as the conversation continued.
"You must be older than I first thought. What's your name?"
"Call me Marcel. Marcel Favera."
For a moment, he almost blurted out the words 'Officer Favera'. It came natural to him after so many years of introductions.
"My name is Nicola. Nicola Cavanis."
She gave her name the same way he spoke of his. Before he spoke again, the bartender set her martini glass in front of her.
"Thank you."
"No problem. If you want a second, just holler at me."
Her eyes shifted to Marcel as she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip.
"So what's a pretty girl like you doing out here? I take it that you're a tourist visiting town."
"Not a bad guess."
Marcel smiled. She finished sipping her glass and set it down. He rested his left hand under his chin while propping his elbow against the bar.
"So how old are you, Nicola?"
"I'm twenty-five. Do you have a daughter the same age as me?"
She teased him with that question. Marcel chuckled before answering.
"No, but I probably would've in another lifetime."