Amelia Unseen

“Hey handsome, does the Wurlitzer work?” 

Buck raised his eyes and continued drying glasses behind the bar. A woman in her early twenties he hadn’t seen before, was standing between the door and the jukebox. He smiled and shook his head. “It works fine.”

“How about floating me a few quarters, won’t you? We could use a little pick me up in here, don’t ya think?” She looked around the little bar with a bit of disappointment in her eyes. Buck assumed she randomly stumbled into Kelly’s Pub on her way to a better invitation. She was trying too hard to appear endearing, and Buck surmised she’d been pre-gaming even before venturing into the bar. He hoped a bit of subtle inhospitality would dissuade her from sticking around. “Darlin’, if you can’t afford the music, how ya’ gonna pay for drinks? This is a bar honey, not a birthday party.” 

She smiled with her eyes, “Oh, I can pay, I have money. What I don’t have are quarters for the Wurlitzer. So, what do ya’ say, hook a girl up with a few?” 

Buck didn’t protest any further, assuming if he indulged her, she’d be gone before the second song ceased to play. “Here.” he said cooly, handing her four quarters without making eye contact. He liked the way she referred to the jukebox as the Wurlitzer; showing it deserved respect. 

“And they say there aren't any real gentlemen left in the world.” she mocked, sliding the coins toward her and dropping them off the edge of the bar into her open hand. “I just hope this squirrely, Podunk, back-alley shithole has at least one song worth listening to.” The young woman sauntered over to the jukebox and took her time reading each of the hundred and ten selections. Buck grew impatient; there was something odd about her, something he just couldn’t put his finger on. He thought of calling Mike, the owner but hated to disturb him. After all, how would it look to call for help the first time he was trusted to run the bar alone? Still, he watched with trepidation, ignoring the other three patrons who didn’t seem to care as long as they still had a bit left in the glasses in front of them. 

Eventually, a steady beat emanated from the well-worn speakers; low at first building into an all too familiar introduction. Buck admitted to himself, he had underestimated her, assuming she’d choose something obnoxious and ironic. Instead, Skynyrd was about to lay down some cold hard facts about a state they didn’t even originate from. Maybe, there was some irony in her choice after all. She swayed ever so slightly as she stood facing the jukebox. Buck thought he heard her humming softly to the music before turning back to the bar. “Ok, handsome, how about a gin and juice for the lady?” 

Buck remained unimpressed. “First, payment up front and a valid I.D.” 

The woman shoved her hand in her back left pocket and proudly produced her driver’s license and a credit card, which she dramatically slammed down on the bar. “Surprise!” she goaded. 

Reluctantly he poured, using a light hand with the gin. “First and last, got it?”

She giggled and downed her drink in one fell swoop. “We shall see.” she teased banging her empty glass on the bar twice, then twirling her index finger in the air. “Don’t you worry, handsome, the card is good. Now, set me up again, won’t you?” 

Buck obliged; the song changed, and the young woman intentionally situated herself, back against the bar, hands resting on either side. Skynyrd retreated back to Jacksonville where they came from, and Def Leppard took the stage with their oddly captivating rendition of the end of the world. She made her move. In one perfectly fluid motion, she lifted herself onto the bar. Seated at first, then, as if rehearsed, she was on her feet. Buck protested loudly, “Whoa, get down from there.” but she was already lost in the song, choreographing her every move to its quirky cadence. She was reckless; hip pops and hair tosses, yet careful, strategically timing kicks as not to impede the other customers' reticent shame. She’d done this before.

Curious, Buck checked her license, Annie Sheldon, clearly not her stripper moniker. She continued to dance; her rhythmic timing was impeccable, and her movements were clean, intentional and strong. Buck thought, she was much more Burlesque than Exotic. She would make more sense with fishnets and a feather boa, rather than an old zip front hoodie, oversized jeans and sneakers which would occasionally catch on the thick epoxy, resulting in cringeworthy squeaks. He imagined a cute bowler hat she’d use as more of a prop than adornment. Annie Sheldon was pretty, he had to admit. Her thick dark hair hung in curls around her thin face, just barely brushing the top of her shoulders. He noticed, though, this Annie person seemed to miss having long hair; her hands reaching well below her actual length to toy with it as part of her flirtatious flair. She wore no makeup, but Buck found himself wanting to see her with pink painted lips and nails. What the hell was happening? He shook himself back to some semblance of reality, checking on the others, refilling their glasses. The music ceased. He reached up for her hand, offering to help her down from the bar. She giggled and carefully kicked her empty glass closer to him. “While you’re at it, barkeep, I’ll have another.” This girl was quite captivating.

She stood, closed her eyes and anticipated the next song. Annie Sheldon ran her fingers through her unkempt curls, unzipped her sweatshirt and slowly removed it, tossing it onto an empty barstool. The intro played; she felt every note deep in her soul as if it were her personal anthem. That talent, that most distinct throaty, passionate voice; “Oh, Stevie, you get me”, she thought as she raised her arms over her head, planted her feet and rotated her hips in isolated figure eights. She sang along softly, only stopping at the bridge to down her third gin and juice. “It's all right, all right….”

Buck called her name, “Annie.” She did not respond. Louder this time, “Annie!” Still, she remained lost in the music. Once more for the people in the cheap seats, “Annie!!” She smiled and danced. She hadn’t noticed Mike standing in the doorway until she heard him call out, “Amelia.” His familiar, authoritative tone was sobering and immediately directed her back to the reality she was so desperate to escape from. “Shit.”

Mike approached. He handed his leather coat to Buck to stash behind the bar. Buck felt a wave of panic rush into his head from somewhere deep in his gut. Annie, on the other hand, managed herself into a seated position at the edge of the bar, feeling as if every drop of blood had drained from her brain into her body. “I’m a little woozy.” she admitted, hoping for even an iota of sympathy or at the very least a morsel of grace. Mike glared at her as if he were about to administer punishment to a naughty child. She half expected him to ground her, but what was coming would be much worse. “I’m calling Kate.” 

Annie slid from the bar into the empty stool covered by her hoodie. She hung her head and avoided eye contact with both Buck and Mike. She whispered, “I might be sick.”, thinking no one would hear. Old Della however piped up, “Yeah well, serves you right if you puke.” Annie ignored the woman. She’d seen Della at Kelly’s many times before, sitting on the same stool, soaked in Tequila, pining for better days passed. She wanted to call her out; let her know she saw her staring, watching her move, jealous of Annie’s youth and vitality. But she was about to face the wrath of Kate Kelly and that in itself was enough to contend with; no additional confrontation necessary to completely fuck up her day. 

Joe and Owen kept to themselves; a little sad the show had come to an abrupt halt. Still, they remained in their respective stupors, smart enough not to piss off the owner. Joe cleared his throat and Mike shot him a menacing look. He held up his hand, signaling the throat clear was purely involuntary without any agenda. Mike held the phone to his ear, waiting for Kate to pick up. Through clenched teeth, he hissed, “Someone should have called me the minute she got here.” 

Owen hung his head even lower while Joe spoke on their collective behalf. “It’s not our place to babysit your sister’s degenerate. The kid was just blowin’ off steam, is all.” 

“Mike?” Kate picked up before Mike could get into it with Joe. Another distinctive glare told Joe they weren’t done. 

“Yeah, Katie, your girl is here. She must have walked from the house or worse yet, hitched a ride. I came in about ten minutes ago to find her dancing on the fricken bar! Get down here and clean up your mess.” 

“Jesus Mike, calm down. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Tell Amelia, I’m bringing a tracker, and she brought that on herself. Did anyone take pictures or video of her little performance?”

“I doubt it, but I’ll ask Buck.”

“Mike, please for the love of God, make sure no one posted anything on social media. I can’t risk it.” 

“I’ll take care of it, Kate. You know, I can’t say I blame the kid. She must be homesick, frustrated and resentful. We should consider ourselves lucky this was the only act of rebellion we have to deal with.” 

“We? I thought she was MY mess?”

“That she is, but when you confessed everything to me, when you decided for me, my inadvertent involvement, I couldn’t help but become invested. She deserves better, Kate; see to it she gets that chance.”

Mike ended the call and relayed Kate’s message. Annie’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded in compliance. Buck overheard and followed Mike to the stockroom. “Why would she need a tracker? “Hey, is she some sort of criminal? What does she have to do with your sister? Why did you call her Amelia, when her license and credit card have her name as Annie?” Buck was visibly shaken. “Hey, I’m serious, Mike. I can’t get involved in any bad shit. I’ve spent my entire life staying legit, and if you and your depraved sister screw that up for me, I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

“You’ll go back to work, that’s what you’ll do.”

“Wait, did your sister kidnap her? Is she being held against her will? Oh my God, Mike, that’s it, isn’t it?” 

“You’re welcome to leave, Buck. Just let me know as soon as possible so I can hire someone else to run the bar while I’m gone. I leave for New York in two weeks.” 

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Two weeks later, Mike handed the keys to Kelly’s Pub to a woman named Lynne. She was in her late forties, fairly attractive and great with his regulars. Lynne used to manage the diner in town before it was bought out by a chain restaurant specializing in artisan burgers and craft beer. “Thank you for this. If all goes well, and I sure hope it does, I’ll be back in a few days.” He hated to see Buck go, but his apprehensions and suspicion were warranted. Finding Lynne to run the place was a relief. His trip to the city was stressful enough without the added worry of his beloved bar being left in the wrong hands. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

“All Rise!” 

Mike stood. His heart was beating out of his chest, yet there was a slight feeling of relief creeping over him. The day was finally upon them and with the grace of God, all will go well. He kept Kathryn’s secret; he’d do anything for her. But he was really there for Amelia. 

“Is Federal Marshall, Kathryn Kelly in attendance?” 

“Yes, your honor.”

“And, your witness, Amelia Cardone? Is she willing and able to take the stand?”

“She is.” 

“Has she been constantly and continually in your protection with the Witness Security Program for the past year?” 

“She has.” 

“These proceedings will continue without delay. We are here today in closed court to receive the testimony of Amelia Cardone who unintentionally observed in disturbing detail the brutal murders of Francis Macetti and James D’Tomasso, on February fourteenth in the year twenty twenty two. The criminal acts allegedly carried out by the defendants named, in association with perpetual unlawful allegations of the Scorsoni family, transpired behind the Biltmore theater where Ms. Cardone was then employed as an actor and dancer in the show, City Unseen.” Does council agree with the synopsis?”

“We do.”

“Ms. Cardone, please approach and allow the bailiff to officially swear you in.”