Dense clouds of cigarette smoke assaulted my lungs as I made my way to the exit, already missing the scent of the beautiful woman I’d left in the back room. I had reached the door when I heard my name called above the screeching noise of the jukebox.
“Frank! Hey, Frank. Over here.”
I waved my way through the smoke; Sam gestured to me from the bar. As I stepped toward him, the door opened forcing me to quick-step out of the way. A well-dressed man walked in, glanced at me, and strode to the center of the room. He might have owned the place by his manner. He scanned the tables and bar. Amy, passing by with a tray of empties, greeted him. They spoke for a moment before she left for the back room. The man stretched his neck and adjusted his tie, taking in the crowd. He…
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