All That's Left

by Ward Anderson

  What the hell? he thinks. His first instinct is that he lost it. He had it in his pocket, and he lost it at some point between last night and today. After all, he took everything out of his right-side jacket pocket at some point while he was drunk and put it all on the nightstand. For all he knows, the photo was lost all the way across town.

  The next thing he thinks is that housekeeping somehow lost it, threw it away, or vacuumed it up. But then he realizes how silly it sounds to think an old Polaroid got vacuumed, so he immediately drops that thought. Why would housekeeping lose only one photo and have everything else perfectly in place?

  Then he thinks that Dania took it.

  But he can’t think of when she might have gotten hold of it, since she spent most of her time with him in that room and barely left his sight. Besides, he would have just given it to her at Hooters when he first met her. All she had to do was say it was hers and ask. Not only did she never do that, she acted like she didn’t know or care about it at all.

  He’s pretty certain that he simply misplaced it but, now that it’s in his head, he can’t seem to let it go. It’s not like the photo was getting him anywhere, anyway. No one seemed to know a thing about it. It was just some old photo that had probably been lying around Scotty’s place since long before he even moved in.

  Still, Steven feels it gnawing at him, so he puts his shoes back on and walks back down to the lobby. Walking up to the first young woman with the Santa hat he finds, he immediately recognizes Nicole from when he checked in.

  “Hi there,” he says. “Do you remember me?”

  “Yes, sir.” Nicole smiles back. “Mr.—”

  “Kelly.”

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Kelly. How can I help you?”

  “Well, today housekeeping made up my room—”

  “—Did they do a satisfactory job, sir?”

  “Oh, yes,” Steven says. “Great job. But, anyway, I had some personal belongings in my room, and something is missing now.”

  “Oh, dear.” Nicole is genuinely surprised and a bit upset. “What kind of things? Something valuable?”

  Steven says, “Nothing like that, no. It was just some paperwork. A photo, actually.”

  “A photo?”

  “Yes,” he says. “Like a little photograph. You know, a Polaroid?”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Nicole shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Just an old photograph. Taken from a camera.” Steven has never tried to explain what a Polaroid is before and suddenly realizes he can’t. “Anyway, all my things are there and were left in a neat little stack for me, but this one photo is gone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, well”—he scratches the back of his neck—“I was just wondering if maybe someone had found it?”

  “A photograph? Here?” She looks confused.

  “Not here, no,” Steven says. “Like housekeeping. Did they accidentally pick it up or anything like that?”

  “Sir.” Nicole leans in politely. “Are you trying to ask me if our cleaning staff took your belongings?”

  “Oh, no,” Steven says as if he’s just been caught calling her mother a whore. “No, I wouldn’t say that at all. I just wanted to know if it might have been an accident, or if they might have picked it up by mistake.”

  “Well, Mr. Kelly,” Nicole says, “I can assure you that housekeeping doesn’t have it and didn’t pick it up by mistake. It just does not seem likely.”

  “Sure, I get that,” Steven says. “Is it possible that someone else got into my room?”

  “Absolutely not,” she says matter-of-factly.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “People do not do that here, Mr. Kelly.” Nicole smiles. “The laws are much too strict. To break into your room would be very, very foolish. Just a ridiculous thing to do.”

  “Sure,” Steven says, “I understand. But people commit foolish crimes all the time in Canada, where I’m from.”

  “Perhaps,” Nicole says, and looks at him with very serious eyes. “But they do not do it here in Singapore.”

  “Alright, then,” Steven says. “I guess I just misplaced it. Thanks, Nicole.”

  “Maybe your friend has what you’re looking for,” Nicole calls to him as Steven starts to walk away.

  “My friend?” Steven asks.

  “The woman you were with last night.”

  “Oh,” he says, and feels his face get red. “You saw us here. Together. Last night.”

  “Yes, sir.” Nicole smiles and picks up the ringing hotel phone. “Maybe she can help you.”

  14

  The whores are on all four floors in great number tonight as Steven makes his way into Orchard Towers and straight up to The Cocktail Room. As he steps in the dark room, he can already hear Dania singing a song by either Celine Dion or Barbra Streisand. He can’t remember which one. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he sees that the place is pretty packed. He still wonders if this place is the best venue her manager could find. Chances are it pays the best, what with the steady flow of tourists and locals and johns parading through.

  Sitting at the same table as before, Steven sips on his only sort-of-terrible wine and watches Dania go into another song. As the tempo changes and she really starts to rock, Dania takes on a bit of a different persona than the sultry sex kitten she becomes during the ballads. There’s something rough and crude about her that strikes Steven as a bit odd. It’s almost as if she seems familiar, but as if she’s also a completely different person. It all feels like déjà vu for a minute. He imagines a lot of people felt this way when they met him after they had already met Scotty.

  Dania sways her hips and dances and thrusts her pelvis to the song. It’s intimidating and reminds Steven just how forceful she can be in bed. How she can be submissive at one moment and then completely in control the next. God help the man who ever winds up on the receiving end of her anger.

  Midway through the rock song—something that sounds like it might be by Melissa Etheridge or Bonnie Raitt—Dania looks across the room and makes eye contact with him. She throws him a sexy smile and a very obvious wink. More than one man in the audience turns to see who is on the receiving end of that wink. Steven almost blushes from the knowledge that at least a few of those men are jealous that it’s him.

  That’s right, you sad sacks, he thinks to himself. I’m the guy. I’m the one she’s looking at.

  The music changes again, and Steven feels an odd chill run down his neck. Dania whispers something to the band, and they bring the music down to a slow, jazzy style. The club immediately goes from rock to jazz as Dania leans in on the microphone and, sexy as ever, begins to croon. Then, it hits Steven what she is doing: She’s singing directly to him.

  In that one moment, there is no one else in the bar. There is no one else Dania is performing for or trying to entertain. It’s almost as if the band isn’t even there. If she weren’t standing all the way across the room, Steven would reach over and gently caress her face while she sang.

  It’s Vince Guaraldi she’s singing, and the song is “Christmas Time Is Here.” A gorgeous—and gorgeously slow—Christmas song. It’s one of his favorites and a constant staple for him this time of year. He doesn’t remember when, but he must have told her at some point how much he loves the tune. She’s looking right at him as she sings the opening lines. Looking back at her as she croons the song, Steven wonders if D.Wash was right.

  He wonders if he’s falling for this woman.

  Steven only just now realizes that no one has ever sung to him before. He wishes that he could go to the stage, pull her down, and carry her home. He wants to put her on a plane and take her back to Toronto with him.

  Then he sips his wine and thinks he’s insane. He’s falling in love with his dead brother’s girlfriend. A woman he’s only known a few days. It’s exactly the sort of thing he never does. The kind of thing he detests when he reads about couples who barely know eac
h other and get married. It’s the kind of thing people do when they don’t have real structure or responsibility in their lives.

  It’s just the sort of thing Scotty would have done.

  Dania sings her way into the final chorus of the song and Steven shakes off his doubts and second guessing. He stops thinking and lets himself enjoy the moment, the music washing over him and erasing his usual worries. Just as he is ready to lose himself completely in the song, drop to his knees, and propose to Dania right in front of the entire club, everything comes to a screeching halt.

  Nez has approached the stage.

  The short, annoying man must have just walked into the club, unbeknownst to Steven, Dania, and every member of the band. Everyone seems to be enjoying the song, but that apparently makes Nez angry. By the time Steven even notices that he’s there, Nez is right at the stage, losing his mind.

  He yells something to Dania, who tries to pretend he’s not there and keeps singing. Audience members are yelling for him to sit down, shut up, and just generally get out of the way. This doesn’t even faze Nez, who keeps yelling gibberish at Dania and the band. Then, he walks up to the side of the stage and points his finger angrily at the guitarist. When Nez doesn’t get the answer he wants, Nez reaches up and, pushing the guitarist back, pulls at his microphone stand.

  “What the hell?” the guitarist clearly mouths, which causes Dania to take a step back. Steven sees this and wonders if he should do anything. Then he remembers every warning he’s ever gotten since coming to Singapore about how he should mind his own business. He simply sits there and watches it all unfold. For a second, he’s sure he sees Dania look over at him.

  The guitarist reaches over with one hand and pulls the microphone stand back from Nez. For a second, there’s a tug of war between the two men until Nez lets go and the guitarist yanks the microphone free. The music stops, the band seems freaked out, and Dania quits singing. There is silence for a moment as Nez stands in front of the stage and leers at Dania.

  “Get the hell out of the way, asshole,” someone yells from the audience. Nez doesn’t even break his icy stare that is piercing right through Dania’s forehead.

  “One,” Dania looks right at Nez as she speaks. She starts snapping her fingers and keeps counting, “Two, three, four.”

  The music goes upbeat again, and the band switches into another rock song. Nez glares at Dania and steps away, walking back over to the bar near the back of the room. Apparently he got what he wanted. Everyone in the audience seems to shrug it off as they get into whatever upbeat tune Dania is rocking out to. She smiles as if nothing happened at all.

  It all seems so bizarre. Steven isn’t even sure what just happened. Nez heard a Christmas ballad and lost his mind, which instantly makes him the biggest Ebenezer Scrooge Steven has ever seen. For a guy who is the manager of a band, Nez has a way of acting like he runs a sweatshop. All he’s missing is a whip to crack.

  Steven takes a sip of his wine and holds his glass in the air. He hopes Dania sees the toast he’s giving her. After a minute she looks over at him and blows him a kiss. He winks back at her and smiles.

  When he turns his head to the left, Nez is standing right there and, a few feet behind him, a stocky bodyguard in a black suit with a black shirt is standing with his arms folded. Steven feels a lump in his throat, but stands up as straight as he can. Nez is oddly intimidating for a man several inches shorter than he. His jaw is stuck out, and he appears to be grinding his teeth as the light shines off of his slicked-back hair and sharkskin suit. Steven thinks the guy looks like a total slimeball.

  “Can I help you?” Steven asks.

  “She’s mine,” Nez says through his teeth. His eyes almost look as if they can shoot lasers.

  “I think you mean she’s your client,” Steven says, realizing that he’s close enough to Nez to feel Nez’s breath hitting his neck. He looks over his right shoulder to see Dania, still mid-song, watching the two of them. She doesn’t look happy.

  “I get her work,” Nez says. “I record her music; I do the booking. She’s mine.”

  “Fine by me. I’m not looking to get into the music business.”

  “You don’t understand, do you?”

  “I don’t care, if you really must know.”

  “You’re in the wrong place.”

  “And I’m just a tourist.”

  “Go to Crazy Horse, tourist. That’s your place.”

  “I like the music here.”

  “You’re not even the first. You know that?”

  “Yeah,” Steven smirks. “But I knew the other guy pretty well.”

  Nez scoffs and shakes his head. “He wasn’t the first, either.”

  Steven doesn’t let the insult bother him, despite the fact that he clenches the fingers of his left hand into a fist. He wants to choke Nez with his necktie, but—for a change—Steven isn’t wearing one. Instead, he simply smiles and raises his wineglass.

  “Cheers,” he says, and turns back to watch Dania onstage, wrapping up her song.

  Nez cracks the knuckle of his index finger using the thumb on the same hand. He looks at the bodyguard behind him, then back at Dania on the stage. Then, with that same, angry stare, he looks back at Steven. Leaning close, he speaks so softly into Steven’s ear, it’s almost a whisper.

  “You be smart,” he says. “Or get what your brother got.”

  With a dismissive shove to Steven’s shoulder, Nez walks away. Steven stands there for a minute before he realizes that his mouth is wide open and that his knees are wobbling a little bit. His hands are shaking. He knows it’s not out of fear. He just can’t remember the last time he was instantly this angry. Nez walks back over to the bar, turns around, and gives him a smug little smile. Steven thinks this is the first time he’s ever wanted to kill a man.

  The music stops and, through the applause, Steven hears Dania leave the stage. The crowd loves her, and she smiles and waves and takes a bow. Steven doesn’t notice any of this, as he’s still staring at Nez, who is standing just behind the bodyguard.

  “Hey, you.” Dania kisses him on the cheek. Steven doesn’t even look at her.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Steven asks, finally looking at her when she puts her hand on his chin and pulls his head toward her.

  “That?” Dania asks. “That’s Nez. I told you, he’s an asshole.”

  “I see that. What was he doing?”

  “He has this stupid idea that we shouldn’t be doing slow songs. He thinks that too many ballads turns people away. And he hates the Christmas tunes when we do them.”

  “He’s an idiot. An asshole and an idiot.”

  “No kidding. That bullshit with pulling at Tommy’s gear. Yanking at the mic like that. The mic cost eight hundred bucks.”

  Steven feels those hairs on the back of his neck stand up again. “What did you say?”

  “The microphone,” Dania says. “It’s really expensive.”

  Microphone.

  Mic.

  Mick.

  Steven almost laughs. His mouth is open again, and he realizes he’s staring at Dania for a full thirty seconds before he hears her voice.

  “Hey,” she says. “What’s going on? Steven? What is it?”

  “Christ,” Steven says. “Scotty. Was he trying to be your manager?”

  “Scotty? Of course not. He didn’t know anything about music.”

  “Yeah, but he was trying to buy equipment. Microphones. Things like that.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “That’s what ‘Mick’ means,” Steven says, trying to find the slip of paper in his pocket. Then he realizes it’s back at the hotel. Then he thinks of asking Dania about the missing photograph. “Scotty had a list of things he needed money for. ‘Mick’ wasn’t a person. It was a thing. He couldn’t spell worth a damn, is all.”

  “I think you’re reaching.”

  “I think I’m right.”

  There is a loud noise from across the room. Da
nia and Steven both jump as they see Nez slapping his hand on the bar to get her attention. Steven wishes he had the power to blink and make Nez’s head explode into a million pieces. He imagines it would make a lot of people in the bar very happy.

  “Asshole,” Dania says. “Just ignore him.”

  “Wait,” Steven says as Dania starts to walk away. She seems surprised when he reaches out and grabs her by the elbow. “I need to know something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Nez said something to me. About Scotty.”

  “To hell with him,” Dania says, and starts to walk away. Steven pulls her back.

  “No, I’m serious,” he says. “He said I should back off or get what Scotty got. What does that mean?”

  “It means nothing. He’s just being a little prick.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” Steven says. “I can tell there’s something going on. You need to tell me, Dania.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Is it? Scotty had an aneurysm. He had headaches. What’s this asshole talking about?”

  Dania looks over her shoulder at Nez, back to the stage, and then finally back at Steven. Her bright eyes suddenly look heavy and sad. Steven doesn’t like the strange feeling that has hit his stomach. Across the bar, Nez is still tossing out his smug glare.

  “Look,” Dania says, “I’ll tell you everything later, okay?”

  “Not later,” he says, and brushes off her hand when she tries to caress his face. “Now.”

  Dania takes a long, deep breath. Letting it out, she leans in closer to Steven and holds his hands in hers. “Scotty did have an aneurysm, sweetie,” she says. “But it killed him during a fight with Nez.”

  “What?” Steven says loudly enough for more than one person in the bar to stop what he is doing and look over.