The Don of Fort Myers

6 p.m. on the rooftop at The Oceanview. The Florida sun was beating. Tears streamed down the outside of the tall glass in front of me. Vodka, gin, club soda, and a lime.

“Will you be eating as well?” The waitress asked.

I took a deep breath and stirred the mixture. The ice cubes had sweat themselves into withered shards.

“No thank you…” I said, shaking my head softly, “Just another drink please.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly. “Happy Thursday.”

The waitress came back a few minutes later. She put the drink down and cleared the empty cups off the table. A rose gold locket bounced off her chest as she moved. It was heart shaped—with a slight jag running down the middle of it. Some of the moisture squirted down onto my jeans as she wiped down the high top. I didn’t mind. It was mid-April and I was not prepared for the Florida heat. The week before my trip, New York had not hit 50 degrees once.

She didn’t seem to notice the spill anyway. Or she didn’t care.

The Oceanview sat high on the 12th floor of Oxen, the latest and greatest in luxury hotels. Especially for Fort Myers’ standard. The bar itself was tucked in beneath several floors of rooms, but the architects had done right by the joint, penciling in a neat little balcony that overlooked the harbor. Looking down you could see it all. A lush circle of grass between the hotel and water. The bright white boats lining the dock. People walking, running, and riding along the cement path that carved through the park. All blissfully unaware.

I looked over the balcony wondering what those people thought of Fort Myers. How did they see their world? There were kids performing a rendition of Into the Woods in the park. Did they know Fort Myers?

Aloof serenity was not a luxury afforded to all in Fort Myers. Or anywhere really. Their world soft and cushioned. Vastly different from that of the mad man I saw stomping down the side street drinking straight from the bottle on my way to the hotel.

But I doubt the school children or the exercisers knew of the deep state conspiracies that he was privy to. So, who is to say who the real winner is after all… who is to say who really sees the world for what it is?

It is a post-truth society after all.

Fort Myers is a tough place to categorize. It is not one of those cities that gets thought about a whole lot—even within the fucked-up orbit of Florida. Miami attracted the posh party crowd. Tampa had the real degenerates. Grandma and Grandpa waited to die in Fort Lauderdale. In my estimation, Fort Myers appeared to be lacking a “thing.” There was a nice strip of bars, waterfront view, and even its own airport. But its most distinguishing feature was its severe identity crisis. Fort Myers was the seventh-grader flipping from preppy to goth to sporty all in the same calendar year, desperate for some show of expression.

If only there were some original thoughts to express.

BZZZZ…. BZZZZ….

“Hello?” I shouted into my cellphone, firmly enough to be heard over the commotion of the crowd.

“Lou…”

“Talk to me, Charlie.”

“Smitty’s out.”

“What do you mean Smitty is out?” I shot back.

“He is out. It is done. It is all shot to hell.”

The line went dead. I took a deep pull of my drink, then another until it was bone dry. A bead of sweat ran down the side of my face.

I waived down the waitress and ordered another. She took the narrow walkway that split the high tops and the bar to fetch it, but nearly tumbled when a crew of patrons came charging in. She gracefully caught her balance and went behind the bar to make the drink.

It was two men middle-aged men and five women pumped with enough plastic to make Charlie Sheen blush. One of the men was tailing two or three steps behind the rest of them. He appeared to be in charge.

The man was hollering into his phone loud enough for the rest of the bar to hear, “HEY BUDDY! What’s going on? We just touched down in Fort Myers. Hell of a flight from Texas!”

The man was downright cartoonish. Thick framed glasses, aesthetic not prescriptive. A navy-blue baseball cap with ‘BEAST’ spelled out in big letters along the front of it and ‘Get Paid’, sketched tightly along the back. A Snicker-sized diamond cross hung down from his neck onto his tight-fitting leather Spiderman shirt. When he turned, I noticed he had small hoop earrings dangling from both lobes. To top it all off—a neatly manicured goatee, with just a touch of grey.

He was his own hero. I hated him. So perfectly himself and plainly awful.

The loathsome idol pulled his hands out of his pockets. I noticed colorful bracelets dangling off each wrist and a two-finger ring spanning across the pointer and middle finger of his right hand. It read ‘Grace’ in bold lettering.

His posse settled at the two high tops closest to the balcony. They were boisterous and their presence was big. They had a seat at everybody’s table.

The waitress walked over to my table. She put another cloudy concoction down.

“Hey… Is this guy a regular here?” I asked, gesturing at the new Don of Fort Myers. He was chest out in front of the balcony, flexing his biceps for the camera. The harbor was tragically in the backdrop of the photo.

“Does that look like a regular?”

“I don’t know…” I paused, “I am really not sure what to make of Fort Myers.”

“What’s your name sweetheart?”

“My name?”

“Your name.”

“Louis.”

“Louis… What?”

“Hawthorne.”

“Okay Louis Hawthorne—let me tell you something about this place... And these people.”

“Please do.”

She wound up to speak when all a commotion burst from the Don’s table.

“Whose a guy gotta hump around here to get some DRINKS?!” He shouted. “Hey YOU! You mind?

The waitress glared back at me. I wondered intensely—what was she going to tell me about Fort Myers? Did she know all its people’s fleshy secrets?

“I guess that is a story for another time,” she said, heading off to tend to his table.

“Wait!” I shouted, “I need to know!”

She turned back and I saw that the locket had popped open. Perhaps from the earlier commotion. For a split second I had a look into her world, which apparently revolved around a 30-something male wearing a light grey t-shirt. He was fit—with a million dollar smile and what appeared to be a charming disposition.

She glanced down at the locket, saw it was open and sealed it shut, closing me off to a universe I had entered uninvited.

“Lou,” she started, “Sometimes it is easier not to wonder what happened to this world of ours. Human beings can only take so much. Such fragile creatures really.”

I took a hard pull of the drink and watched her walk back to the last table on the floor, about 10 feet from the balcony, to tend to the Don. She flowed effortlessly through the crowd and arrived at his doorstep.

He barked shamelessly at her. A round of shots… and what kind of food you got in this joint?! We are fuckin’ starving out here! Hey… Hunny… you know what? Why don’t you take a shot with us? Sit down… Join us!

I found myself stuck in a staring contest with my drink. We were both past our halfway points. How did it end up like this? It wasn’t just Fort Myers… The whole damn world was lost.

The drink delivered an unrelenting glare and whispered coward… coward… coward… The bastard became increasingly agitated and its voice picked up some fervor—evolving into a deranged roar. COWARD! COWARD!! COWARD!!! YOU LET IT GET THIS WAY… COWARD!

Pihp… Pihp……. Pihp…Pihp.

Beads of sweat splattered onto the table. I took a napkin and wiped my brow, picked up my antagonist and drank him down. A calm came over me. I stood up and walked over towards the balcony and lit a cigarette, took a couple of puffs, and listened.

“Oh, well… That’s sweet but I am working. You know what—first round is on me.”

“Hunny I have enough money for you to never work again… Just sit down and join us. Your boss won’t mind.”

“I’m not sure what good your money will do me,” she said, appearing slightly less in control of the situation than she or I would have liked. “And I have eight other tables to attend to—so how about you enjoy the round of shots on me and leave well enough alone. There are plenty of cocktail waitresses in Fort Myers.”

He reached around her hip, caressing her backside, and pulled her down on his lap. She didn’t squeal and it pained me.

“Tell her girls, “He said to his Silicone Harem, “Tell her how much fun we can have.”

The birds squawked at her and she sat there motionless. “I have to be getting back to work.” She said quietly, still firmly entangled his web.

“Hunny, hunny, hunny.” His tone intensified and he slid his hand up and down her back, sliding up the mouth of her shirt.

She was a statue.

He began to speak again, but I couldn’t hear a single word. I went blank with rage.

“Hey Bigshot!” I shouted, flicking the rest of my cigarette at him. “You want to have some fun??? I like to have fun too!”

I charged at him and threw a jab at his jaw, then wrangled him by the collar, squeezing with a gonzo fury. His chain snapped and the cross tumbled down his chest to the ground.

The waitress popped up and grabbed my arm, trying to pull me off him. “Louis! I can handle this!” She shouted.

THWAP!

A beer bottle cracked against the back of my head. The Don’s friend caught me flush. I let go of him and took a step back, running my hand through my hair. It was damp with blood.

“You just made a huge mistake, Pal,” he said, picking his cross up off the ground. “Better watch your back. I will find you.”

“So fucking be it.”

I took a half-drank beer off their table, put it to my lips and walked over to the bar. I ordered six shots of tequila and started in on them. The first, then the second… After the third, my vision started to get a little fuzzy.

The waitress came over and sat down. She picked up two shots and held them out in front of me. I picked up the other two. We downed them.

She waved at the bartender. He laid out six more shots for us.

“I get off in 15 minutes.”

The pillow had blotches of blood splattered on it. My temples were closing in on one another. She ran her fingers up and down my chest. It was morning.

“You wanted to know about this place…” She started, “The truth is—it is just like everywhere else.” She took a cigarette off the nightstand, lit it, took a drag, then slid it in my mouth. I took a pull and waited for her to finish.

“This is a broken place—filled with broken people… Doing what they need to do to make it to tomorrow.” She paused and slowly moved her hands towards the back of her neck, unbuckled the locket and handed it to me.

She kissed me on the cheek and smiled solemnly. “Lou, this is yours now. Go ahead and open it up next time you find yourself under the delusion that you are some beacon of morality.”