Sociable Sunflower #1

“God, my feet are on fire,” I said to John as we arrived to the Black Dahlia Lounge. “How long have we been walking?”

“Calm down, we’re here,” John said.

“Finally.”

I bitch when I’m tired, and after my day at the office, I was ready to bitch. As a financial advisor for an L.A. real estate company, all I hear all day are loud miscreants asking me questions I pretend to know the answer to.

But today was heinous, so the bar was my retreat. I didn’t feel up to picking a place to go, so my associate and good friend John chose the place. I’d never been to the Black Dahlia Lounge before. I mean, who names their bar after a gruesome unsolved murder? Fuckin’ psychos, that’s who.

I half expected to see some barely legal goth chicks trying to get entry to the bar, but surprisingly, as I walked up, the clientele looked like the suits John and I are. Ahead of me, three slender men – all with short black hair, tan skin and striped, European cut suits – walked into the tinted black doors.

“If I see anyone from the office here, I’m going to put my engagement ring through your face,” I said to John. “You know how much I hate those schmucks.”

“Yeah yeah, and you ‘have enough money to fix the ring,’” John said mimicking me. “I’ve heard it a million times, but when’s the last time I was wrong about a joint?”

I had to hand to him. He’d never been wrong about hangouts. Except–

“And don’t you dare say Remington’s. That was an isolated incident.”

“Fine, let’s see if your track record stays, Mr. high and mighty.”

We walked in the automatic black doors. Immediately, I thought it might be strip club. The lighting and set up seemed right for it. But no strippers or poles were around. Also, the music was much hipper than that sleaze. Sounds like Hot Chip.

“John, you know what time it is?”

“’Time to get our drink on,” John replied, as if he was at a football game.

“Amen brother.”

We took the bar and immediately downed successive shots of Jack, then raspberry Stoli, then vanilla Smirnoff. My favorites.

“Shit, I gotta go to the bathroom,” John said. “I can’t handle that stuff like you.”

“Don’t fall in,” I called behind him.

As he exited the room, someone grabbed my shoulder. I flipped around in a hurry. It better not be some ass from the office.

It wasn’t. Instead, one of the clones that I saw earlier with black hair and a gray striped suit was behind me. He’d taken his sunglasses off and looked at me intently, as if we knew each other. I had no idea who the man was.

“Feinstein?”

My last name. How the fuck does he know that?

“Uh, yeah, that’s my name, how do you know it?”

“Gabe Feinstein, how the hell are you?”

My first name and my last name. Not good.

“Hey, apparently we’re met before, but I just can’t place where you’re from,” I said. “It’s been a long day. Jog my memory.”

“Gabe, you asshole, you can’t remember your oldest pal?” the man said.

“I’m sorry, nothing’s coming.”

“Gabe, let me show you something. Maybe you’ll remember me. Look into my eyes.”

“What is this some kind of game? How many shots have you had?”

“Eh, only 15, not too bad. This body can take it. Just look into my eyes.”

I obliged, if only to figure out how he knew me. Also, something about him seemed familiar. His voice, I thought.

“Fine,” I said.

I looked straight into his eyes, which appeared black under the dim lighting of the pseudo-strip joint. Suddenly, a flash of light shot from his eyes in what seemed like slow motion.

In an instant, the man seemed more and more familiar. I started to look around the room. No one looked like us. We looked human, while everyone else appeared ghostly, translucent.

“What’s happening?” I asked, scared.

“I’m reminding you of what we are.”

I stared straight into his eyes and I remembered. His raspy voice. He didn’t look like he used to.

“Gabriel, do you remember why you’re here, on Earth?” he said.

“We were punished, stricken from Heaven for offenses against Him,” I responded.

“Yes, and do you remember me?”

“Damian. We used to be good friends before–”

“Before He went and fucked it all up. My father wasn’t that bad,” Damian said.

My mind raced, and I thought like I never had prior. Or had I? I couldn’t remember it all. Everything when I was a child seemed fuzzy, almost programmed. Then I remembered the terms of roaming the earth until it ended. Every 50 years, the memories of angels and demons would be reset until another of our kind reminded us.

“Gabriel, you might want to bring that look off your face and adjust your sight so you see like them once more. Your friend is coming back.”

I blinked and everything looked as it was before the revelation.

“Do you, do you know when you’ll forget again?” I stammered aloud. “Do you know when I’m due to forget?”

“If my guess is correct, I’ll be losing my mind in about nine years. After that you have to come find me. You’ll probably have your knowledge for another 30, at least, but these are just guesses.”

“Thank you Damian, for finding me,” I said, just as John made his way to the bar again.

“Hey, who’s this?” John said, nudging at Damian.

“Uh, he’s an old friend,” I said.

“What, like high school or something?”

“Let’s call it grade school,” I replied.

Damian stared at me with his generic face and smiled. John smiled too and told the bartender to immediately serve up three shots of Grey Goose. “Let’s toast to friendship,” John said. “Amen,” Damian and I said in unison. I laughed and raised my shot with my two good friends – one immortal, one clueless.