Sam the Swindler

The table clicked in protest as a heavy hand brought to rest an empty crystal glass. The ice shifted as the empty drink settled, its owner takes this opportunity to light a bent cigarette. Squinty eyes burning from the smoke scan the floor for familiar faces both friendly and unwelcome. A stray hand moves unconsciously to a bare neck, open to the night air; his shirt unbuttoned far too much to catch the attention of his intended quarry.
"Miss, my drink please." She pretends not to hear favoring more lively guests where the possibility of a lucrative payoff outweighs the pleas of another ass-grabbing drunk. It is true, his face could use a shave and he wore the same Hawaiian shirt last night. She walks away and he stands up stumbling to the moonlit veranda where a young lusty couple stares mooney-eyed at one another unconscious of his presence.
"You know..." he begins to no one in particular "... I am a man too." The statement might as well have been an indictment of organized religion posed to a carp for the response it brought him. The veranda is abandoned by the young lovers and the man finds himself alone again. One large cylindrical ash falls infinitely slowly onto his worn two-toned shoes.
"I knew I'd find you here Sam." The woman's voice cooed and purred and Sam gave her his full attention. She covered the distance between them and placed a fresh smoke next to the burning filter in Sam's mouth. With a steady hand she lit the cigarette and carefully slipped the book of matches into her handbag. The air now smelled of Sam's cheap cologne, sulfur, and a salty ocean breeze.
"Maybe you can get me another drink. That young floozy won't give me the time of day." She met his eyes with a gaze unaffected by anything he'd ever said. With a look like that she could pronounce his only son dead or invite him into her bed. Sam suddenly became aware of his gin and wondered how drunk he looked.
"I am only going to say this once Sir. You said something long ago that touched me and changed me for the better. I traveled a long way to meet you only to be told by your family that you had bought into a timeshare on the beach and are planning to drink the rest of your days away. Normally I might have tried to change your mind but earlier I had my fortune told. The witch told me I would have the courage to close old chapters in my life." Sam wondered if he'd just heard a joke and prepared his dopey smiley laugh that was provoked by any hint of wit.
"A witch huh? Like an old crone on a broomstick?" He let the practiced chuckle go and she waited till he was done to reply.
"No, not like a woman on a broomstick. A witch as in the modern use of the word, a practitioner of Wicca."
"What did I say there toots, that brought you all the way out here?" Sam felt a sudden burst of courage and took a step toward the woman who stood before him. She was any woman, she was mousey and short. She was gorgeous when she talked and she was definitely the most beautiful dame to cross this old sailor's path in a while. He wondered how she tasted. Sam's aura told her of his insidious intentions and he was caught off guard by a blast of pepper mace across his forehead. He doubled over groaning in pain and then let out several sudden shrill cries like a wounded animal. He fought gravity and intoxication as he stumbled toward her groping wildly like a frightened boy running in tall grass. With an outstretched hand she caught him by the loose shirt and tugged him toward her using the momentum to kick him in the testicles harder than it could be possible for any woman to kick any man in the testicles. The commotion on the veranda brought the young waitress who turned on her heels with one look of the wild eyed woman before her. 'The creep probably deserved worse,' she thought as she walked smiling to her favorite table. Sam slumped to the floor, tears making a mess of his face and the taste of blood in his bile. He grimaced with hate in his voice as he rolled over and spat a question. "What did I say?" She was crying now and her hands trembled with turbulent emotion. Her faltering voice tried to explain why, but she couldn't say; her lips were not listening. He took his feet, now blind, and made his way to the girl. She seemed more a girl and he an old man as he embraced her tightly. Maybe it was the smell of her hair or the sound of her voice that brought Sam's memory back. His face changed and his touch became gentle and soothing.
"You know..." He wheezed for a moment "Years ago I would have bought you a drink but today you have just found my rotten side." She smirked and picked up his glass sipping the last from the tumbler and casually tossing it over her right shoulder. With a tinkling crash the glass shattered and moments later an attendant came out to find out what the commotion was.
"Ma'am is this...man, um... harassing you?" She flaunted a smile and shook her head tossing her hair right to left as she did so. "No, two more drinks please and start me a tab." She handed the woman a card without looking at him and took a step towards Sam who was still clutching his wounded ball-sack and coughing from the mace.
"Lets get out of here this pepper spray is killing me." The woman covered her mouth and stepped inside the bar to fetch the drinks, she was gone for several minutes before she returned with the credit card in her small rose blush lipsticked mouth and two glasses of something brown. With a motion of her finger she gestured towards the beach and the surf. The bar was beginning to clear out and the sound of coughing could be heard in the distance. The two made there way through the sand as the police descended into the bar. Sam took a drink of his whiskey and felt the muzzle of a gun pressed under his arm.
"You have one chance to tell me the truth." Sam was drunk, blind and the pain in his testicles was searing agony. "I am going to ask you a question and you had better be straight with me."
"Shoot." He said with a smile letting the irony wash over him.
"You told me once that you loved me and my mother..." This caught Sam by surprise and he struggled to open his eyes despite the sticky mace. He dropped to his knees bringing the gun to head level and as the woman spoke she slipped the gun under Sam's arm and took a seat next to him on the wet sand.
"...You told me that in this world a woman could be anything a man could be. Then you left and took my father away." Two police officers walked down the beach passing the two as they looked for the trouble-makers. The woman pulled Sam closer to her to speak into his ear.
"My mother could be anything except my father. You stole my childhood from me." Sam began to whine a response but the barrel of the gun under his arm pressed tightly against his armpit. He saved his response remembering that he may have only one chance.
"Why did you leave us?" The question resounded in Sam's head and it sobered him instantly, he had fantasized about this conversation but always expected to be nicely dressed and seated in a position of power or at least somewhere where he was well-known.
"I...left because... I was wanted in another state. I had to serve my time so that life could go on for my young family. By the time I got out you had forgotten about me and your mother told me not to bother you." This was the time for the woman's voice to break.
"D-dr... drink your drink daddy." She pulled the revolver out of the man's shirt and placed it in her purse taking a long swig of her whiskey sour and coughing in surprise.