Mr. Brownstone looked at the bartender with a grin on his face. Then turned to his friend sitting beside him:“I told you Jones, I never put my money on a woman’s loyalty.”
The bartender handed twenty bucks to Mr. Brownstone to fulfill his side of the bet. After a few more drinks he would give a generous tip anyways. “I love your affairs man, how would I pay my rent otherwise?” Mr. Brownstone was the kind of man who would burst into laughter right after his own jokes. He would have more friends if he didn’t but this way the friends he had were few yet more valuable than anyone’s. At least that was what he said to himself when he needed inner peace.
He was a rowdy looking man around his late thirties. Shades of white on his greasy hair were barely visible under the dim light of the place. He neglected all the bad comments about his ponytail and he had a goatee that he occasionally scratched. His clothes were sloppy and he proved that he had no sense of visual unity with his brown shoes, navy blue trousers, purple shirt and worn out black coat.
Mr. Jones turned to his cold glass of beer, killing most of it in one sip. Then he had the courage to speak up: “I don’t know buddy, Katie could be the one. It doesn’t make sense, after a simple argument why would she disappear like this? She hasn’t returned any of my calls the last three days.”
He certainly did not belong in the bar. He was too decent or maybe too ordinary. He was losing his hair rapidly and gaining more and more weight every day. He didn’t even attempted to try to live a reckless life like Mr. Brownstone. He’d be overwhelmed by all the chaos. He could hardly handle a simple office job let alone what his friend did for a living. Buying some old stuff and selling it somebody else to make a small profit each time. No, thanks! He was content with his weekly reports at the office. In addition, he always had the leisure to come down here sometimes. He rolled his shirt’s sleeves up to display the tattoo on his forearm, a relic from his college days. The bar was the only place to show that without getting any disapproving looks. It was the only place for him to loosen his tie a little bit. He could always get away as long as he had this. The yoke on his neck did not hurt as much with the company of Mr. Brownstone and a cold glass of beer.
Mr. Brownstone loved this part. He would get to comfort his precious friend. His consolations were far from ideal but they usually provided some relief. “Forget it, man, listen to this, think of this city like a gigantic ocean. Plenty of fish, still there for you to catch. Your old stick will definitely grab somebody’s attention, just keep your bait fresh, you know what I mean?” Another sequence of laughter followed.
Mr. Jones still managed to find some solace in his words as he always did. However, he made a last attempt to keep the conversation about Katie alive. He felt that he owed this to her. He wanted to play around with her image a bit before letting it go for good. “But she was beautiful, buddy, not only her face but her soul. I believed I could see through her soul and it was pure beauty. Things might have gotten serious between us.” As he finished his words, he didn’t dare to listen to what was coming next from his mentor. He knew his friend well and he loved him the way he is. His ear caught some nasty insults as he saw the bottom of the glass. When his drink betrayed him, he decided to listen to the last part of Mr. Brownstone’s speech. “… one day, you’ll actually meet somebody beautiful. She’ll be beautiful according to my standards. I ain’t talking about your emotional rubbish. Unless I can touch it; get my hands over it, I won’t hand out compliments about beauty so easily. You have to learn that as well, hear what I’m saying? And Jones, when we find you your chick, I am going to be your best man! I won’t take such an important duty for some fool mumbling about inner beauty. Inner beauty my ass!” And laughter followed…
Maybe his friend was right, maybe he did need a break. He always expected every woman he met to be the one. He treated them like he had known them for years, like he wanted to spend the rest of his life with them. None of them turned out to be special so far, the last one included.
As these thoughts swirled in Mr. Jones’s head, Mr. Brownstone was ready for his final blow. This would be a good one. He reached for his pocketknife that he carried around all the time. It was a souvenir from his famous trip to Africa that he bragged about at every opportunity. He showed the blade to his friend. “This will be my gift to you when you find that beauty we’ve been talking about.” Then he put the thing back in its sheath. That moment was the peak of their evening. The duo hung around till it was past midnight. By the time they left the place, the heartbroken lover was fully recovered with some alcohol and a bit of manly talk. Mr. Jones was grateful that he had such a caring friend as they said goodbye to each other for the night in the back alley.
Later that night Mr. Brownstone entered his messy apartment. “Mission accomplished” he said out loud with the biggest grin of the night covering his face. He threw away the cheap knife that he bought from the antique store on 17th Street. “Cheap yet still efficient” he thought.
He wasn’t much of a believer but he was certain that all beauty had to die. He also had this solid friendship that he’d love to preserve no matter what. Proud of himself with tonight’s performance, he settled into his armchair and turned on the TV to relax a little bit. As he fell asleep, he heard the news reporter speaking:
“… a body was found in the river by the fishermen this morning. Identity of the victim is not known yet but she’s believed to be a caucasian woman in her mid-twenties. The police report states that she was raped and stabbed to death probably about three days ago.
Also today, the mayor announced his new policy on…”
