Alan Price and the Colossus of Rhodes

Chapters 19 and 20

Chapter 19

Present Day

“Hi. Sorry, I don’t want to disturb your reading time—Oh, Spartans, very cool. Hope you don’t mind me looking at your book. I’m not trying to be nosey or anything, just trying to make conversation and not let this get awkward.”

Alan raised his eyes to see a dark haired woman about his own age. Large black-rimmed glasses framed her eyes. Jeans and boots marked her as someone who either had not anticipated or didn’t care she was going to a bar where they valeted Austin Martins and Ferraris on a regular basis. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“Nope, not yet. Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Listen, I don’t want to be rude. I’m sure you’re a great person but tonight—“

“Oh, oh, no. Do you think I’m hitting on you?”

Alan raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, not that I don’t think you’re attractive. My gosh, have you seen your arms?” The young woman shut her pink lips tight. Her fair skin turned as red as the outside of an apple. “I am so not good at these types of things.”

She took a seat at Alan’s booth across from him disregarding his attempt to politely decline her company. “Listen, let’s start over.” The young woman extended a fingernail polished hand that matched her red face, “My name is Danielle Turner.”

Alan pursed his lips and set his book on the table. He reluctantly shook the woman’s hand. Four years of running from his past and denying the underprivileged path his adolescent life had taken, Alan was used to using aliases, “Connor Moore.”

Danielle released his hand and laughed, “Alan, please if you are going to use a fake name at least choose one that’s not already taken by someone so unique.”

Alan felt his posture straighten. If she wanted to get his attention, she had it now. Alan was a name he had left a long time ago. “How do you know my name? No one has called me that in a very long time.”

Danielle took a deep breath. “Listen, this is not going at all how I planned. I told him I wasn’t good at this kind of stuff.”

“Told who?”

Before she could answer, the server appeared at the side of their table. “Hello, can I get you something to drink, Miss?” She motioned towards Alan’s bottle of whiskey. “Perhaps a glass?”

“What? No.” Danielle said with the slightest hint of disapproval. “I’ll have a Shirley Temple please.”

The server nodded, her mouth beginning to drop open before she turned to fulfill the order.

“Shirley Temple, huh?” Alan asked.

“Yeah, I’m a lightweight. Give me a drink or two and—“ panic washed over Danielle’s face again as she found herself in the middle of a sentence she didn’t want to finish.

Alan felt his lips twist into a grin despite himself. “Okay, you have me interested. How do you know my name and what is it that you want?”

“My organization has been watching you since the night you jumped—fell—off the roof and even before that. What we want is your help. What I mean to say is that we think a partnership would be mutually beneficial.”

Alan searched the dimly lit interior of the bar, for what, he wasn’t sure; cameras revealing that he was being set up, dark-suited government agents set to take him away for experimentation or the FBI for all the money and merchandise he stole over the past four years.