I’m not going to fall into that trap of putting off writing in favor of other things! Yes I have an autistic boy, publish tarot videos on YouTube, and of course have all the usual day to day, but I’m doing much better at arranging my schedule so I’m going to be writing more often!
My newest character is of great interest to me and I hope to you, as well. He’s young, pretty much an innocent, but by no means without sense and a great feel for things as they are and should be.
Frankie Perinier is on the move, upwardly mobile, and wants nothing more than to be the richest man in the USA and possibly one of the richest in the world. Yes, he’s that way.
Again many thanks to all of you for reading my work, strange, crazy and utterly outrageous, as it may be!
One for the road.
Frankie P. stood waiting for the bartender to pour one for the man next to him. It had been a long, hot, exhausting day, and Frankie wanted a shot of good whiskey as his reward, if only he could get the barkeep to stop chatting and pour him one!
“Sorry, young fellow, I have to ask.” The aged bar man squinted at him. “You old enough?”
Francois, or Frankie as he was forcing himself to get used to being, smiled. “Yes. Oui. I am one and twenty.”
The bartender, Efram, smiled, revealing several gaps where there were once teeth. “All right. Just checking. You look like a kid for Chrissakes.”
Frankie’s smile broadened. “I understand completely.” Taking the double shot of whiskey in one hand, he continued speaking, ” Tell me monsieur, how is business? Would you say it’s good?”
“Why, yes, it is. In fact,” Efram leaned forward conspiratoriously, “It’s better than ever. This place is making money hand over fist!”
“Really? That’s excellent!” Frankie paused, taking a good gulp of the most expensive whiskey in the house, “Would you happen to know if the owner is of a mind to sell? There are rumors flying around about his financial problems, if they are true I don’t know.”
Efram turned serious. “Financial? I’d say more like gambling! I don’t think he’s of a mind to sell, no. But does he have to sell? I’d say most likely!”
“I want you to give him this.” Frankie slid his calling card across the mahogany bar. “Tell him I want to buy. And that I am a Perinier of the New Orleans Periniers. If he makes inquiry he will find out that I have the wherewithal to back up my offer.”
Efram smelled money and instantly thought commission. “Well, I could do, yes. But why should I, monsieur? Will you make it worth my while?”
Frankie smiled. The man was smarter than he looked. “Of course there will be the usual fee added to the price. Say, ten percent?”
“Make it twenty and you have a deal!”
Laughing, Frankie agreed.
Later that same week.
“The bar is yours, you say?”
Frankie Perinier grinned. “It is. The deal awaits the transfer of funds from my bank in New Orleans and that is all. It’s just a matter of days.”
“You’re in possession of the money, then?”
“I am. It was left to me by my grandfather.”
Charlene leaned forward, knowing full well that her dress would open enough to reveal a good deal of her bosom. “Then you and I are going to make a fine pair, my love. We will!”
Frankie laughed. “I imagine so! With your conniving ways and my business sense we will conquer New York City!”
She joined him in the laughter. “Oh, we will! And my ideas go way beyond New York, dear love! Way, way beyond!”