Alias by Jeffrey Birch

Author:Jeffrey Birch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2015-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

___18___

The memory evaporated like smoke in a breeze to be replaced by yet another remembrance. One that also came with regularity. Maria often recalled them in vivid clusters, like some experience migraine headaches. It was neither a happy nor sad recollection. It just was, but what happened defined the remainder of her life to the present day.

His face, the first one of his identities she saw, was indelibly etched on her brain. She would come to know others, as she would come to know him. That is, as much as he would reveal for much of him she never knew.

It all began on a rainy afternoon in New York City.

After her father died or was murdered. The truth was never learned. He had left her some money. She tried college for a year but dropped out. Had a succession of short-term lovers that didn’t work out. By her early twenties, Maria Orlov was aimless. The single thing that motivated her was exercise. She worked out daily in a Manhattan gym, an avid body builder but clean, no steroids. She was fit and exceptionally strong. The workouts and feeling of strength were addictive –her drug of choice.

A great workout had left her famished. The amount of food she consumed was astonishing. She entered the door of the Irish pub that served great cheeseburgers and the dark, Irish beer and whiskey she preferred. Maria was not a heavy drinker but she liked to unwind with a pint and shot.

The bar was empty save two unfamiliar customers both old and hunched over their drinks. No hassles from those two. Sliding over a stool between them, she ordered.

The bartender was a young woman about her age with maturity beyond her years and wisdom borne of hardship that recognized her as an occasional customer but not a confidant. She was right off the boat the year before, intensely wary of non-Irish, had no green card but was hired by Mickey, the owner. He took care of his own when he could.

“Haven’t see yeh in while. Still in the gym, I see,” she said with practiced friendliness that ran as deep as the sheen on the counter.

“A Smithwick’s Irish ale on tap and a shot of Jameson, Maggie.”

“I remember. The usual for yeh. Comin’ up.”

With the beer and shot on the bar, Maria hefted the glass when the old guy to her right with an Irish brogue softened by years in somewhere like The Bronx or Queens said, “You have any martial arts skills, girl?”

Maria glanced at him. “Haven’t needed any.”

The old guy nodded. “Would yeh be opposed to learnin’ some?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Muscles is great but usin’ them for a purpose is what’s important.” A hacking cough interrupted his words.

“Important for what?”

“Bein’ the best and survivin’. I seen you before in here. I like the way you carry yerself. No arrogance, no bluster. Arrogance is what gets yeh killed – and stupidity.”

Maria turned to the old guy whose rheumy eyes bored into her.

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