Free The Summer of Last Resort by J. A. Browning Page A

re-shuffled them before handing them back. “This kid,” she said, handing him Keith’s card, “He wasn’t in the class.”
    “How can you be sure?”
    “Him? Oh, I’m pretty sure I’d remember.”
    “This kid Shane, he was in the class. He was pretty enthusiastic. This girl,” she said, handing him Maria’s card, “I’m not too sure about. I think she was there. Now this other girl,” she said, holding on to Kim’s card, “She was there.”
    “You’re sure,” Jake asked insistently, and she nodded.
    “Who teaches this class?”
    “Uh… a guy named Bert – Bert Lieberson, I think.”
    “Burt Lieberson?”
    “Yeah, I think that’s right. Look, It’s over on, um, 19th and Jefferson, I think.”
    “Did you turn in your journals?”
    “No, but he did look at them.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah. I think he liked the girls better. He’s a bit of a perv.”
    “Yeah, I guess that doesn’t surprise me.”
    “Look, I’ve told you what I know. Now go off and do your cop stuff!” And with that, she turned and quickly walked away.
    That evening Jake found himself driving down into the city, to club Maximo, the nightclub that Sandy wanted him to steer clear of. He would just check it out, he thought to himself; nothing special. But somehow he had stopped in at JC Penny’s and bought a polyester shirt and some cheap patent leather shoes.
    The club didn’t open until ten, but as he drove by he could see in the light rain that they were still expecting quite a line-up. He circled the building casually by taking a shortcut through the back alley, then crossing the opposite street and going around the other side of the block. When he had finished, he had noted all the exits and security cameras were, and then he waited across the street until the club filled up.
    It wasn’t until just before midnight that the bouncers were busy enough that Jake felt he could get in. Still, he wasn’t quite their normal clientele, and stood nervously in line. A young lady and her friends behind him joked about his age, saying that maybe the new management was turning the club into an old-folks home. Jake turned around and quipped, “Yeah, and next I’ll teach you kids how to do the Lindy.”
    Inside it was noisy. Jake didn’t like disco, he was much more of a rock fan, even a metalhead, and he felt like a giant walking hypocrite. But back at the bar he settled onto a thickly padded red barstool and looked around. Things were a little quieter back here, there as even a pool table. He watched the female bartender carefully as she busily filled drink orders from the scantily-clad waitress and then eventually took his. Jake was already a little light headed, but even so he ordered a whiskey on the rocks.
    So, how’s the new management?” Jake asked casually.
    “What business of yours is that?” replied the bartender crossly.
    “Sorry. Just making conversation.” The bartender went off to filling more orders, and Jake absent-mindedly wandered over to the pool table and started shooting a ball around, when a stunning young woman in a fishnet body suit walked over and grabbed a pool cue and started sliding it back and forth between her fingers. “Do you want to shoot some with me,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. Jake dropped some coins into the slot, pulled out the balls, and racked them up.
    “You break, honey,” the fishnet clad beauty said.
    “Is this what you always wear to the clubs?” Jake asked.
    “You don’t get out much, hon.” She replied. “Didn’t you see me up in that cage on the left?” Jake shook his head and shot, scattering the balls over across the felt.
    “So... how do you like it working here,” Jake asked, seemingly making small talk while she lined up the cue ball. “Seven ball in the left pocket,” she said, and deftly dropped it with a thunk.
    “Oh, it’s all right. A girl’s gotta make a living, you know.” The game continued, with Jake making embarrassingly few good