An Uncommon Collection by Colorado Springs Fiction Writers Group

Author:Colorado Springs Fiction Writers Group
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: bookstores, anthology, bookstore, bookstore owner
Publisher: Colorado Springs Fiction Writers Group

I don’t like having to chase people all over creation just to make a point. Don’t they know I have better things to do? Damn musicians never change. — EF

Thief of Dreams

by Frances Burke

Johnny Cunningham stood smiling in the dim corridor of the motel, one arm slung over the top of a battered pay phone. He cradled the receiver against his shoulder as he brushed a lock of curly blond hair from his green eyes.

“Sure thing, sugar.” He chuckled. “I’d love to stop by to pick you up, but you know how it is on tour. All we got is the van, and it’s full of the guys’ stuff. Why don’t you come on down to the club? We can take your car and swing by a Denny’s for something later.”

He listened for a minute, his grin fading. “Sure, bring her along. Um, she’s the one in jeans with the camouflage tank top?” The young man scowled as he mouthed, “Shit,” while the girl on the other end of the conversation responded. “Yah, great personality.” With an audible groan of disgust, he said, “No problem, maybe we can fix her up with Jojo.” Silently he added Connie and Jojo have a lot in common. They both looked like the dinners in Alpo ads. He listened to the girl giggle as she held her hand over the receiver to pass this bit of information on to Connie.

His mouth twisted into a sour grimace. “No, the drummer’s name is Bobby Ray. Jojo isn’t exactly with the band. He, er, works for the club.” Before she could ask, he continued, “Hey, sugar, I gotta go. We got a hot offer for a gig in Vegas, and we gotta work out the scheduling. Yeah, see you tonight, bye.”

He hung up thinking he could lose Connie and the bouncer and then ….

“Johnny, we got to talk.” Misty Rose leaned against the door of their room, her arms folded across her really excellent chest. Misty looked a lot like a shorter version of his niece’s Barbie doll. If blonde jokes were based in fact, she would have the IQ of a fruit fly. She had an equally impressive voice, but even if she couldn’t sing, she would have been a hit in the clubs they played.

“Now Misty, it’s not what you’re thinking. She’s ah, she’s got connections to—”

“Don’t wear yourself out with plausible deniability, Johnny. That’s not what we have to talk about. Well, not exactly.” Misty nodded to their room. He followed, his mind searching for an excuse he hadn’t used before.

A relative, she could be some sort of cousin. Did I use that one in Durango? No, that one was Mexican.

Misty sat on the sagging bed, pointing with one long red-tipped finger to the bench that still held his bag.

She doesn’t quite look mad, just sort of determined. Maybe she only caught the end of the conversation.

He tried out his boyish grin, working the dimple to the max, as he shoved his things off and sat down, hands clasped between his knees like a kid in the principal’s office.

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