In a rare double post of flash fictions, here is the other side of that first piece, showing us Tweety not only controlling the story, but herself also.

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Tweety, 2011

“What is with this touristy uptick?” I turned to Sly as we worked together in double time to bust out drinks. 

He didn’t answer me, but one of his hands traded me glasses for a magazine. People’s 100 sexiest list for the year. And an all too familiar face on the cover, with the entire band listed inside the top 50. 

Great. Just the kind of publicity I needed, especially since they already came to assume Woods in the book was Woods from this bar back in the day. We never confirmed or denied it, I just down played it because I wasn’t using his name for my business like that.

“I can’t believe the whole band used to play on that stage!” 

When they squealed like that? Someone always shoved a cupcake at them, nice or not. This time it was Malta who talked in Cockney slang and circles.

“Oy, that’s special spirits around these parts. And if you jellied eel like that, me thinks you need to eat.” Malta pushed the cupcake she placed into the person’s hand towards their mouth. “It’s just a cupcake, but you shouldn’t faint after it.”

Sly had already switched to covering whatever damage Malta was about to do, or at least the miscommunication there. Malta told the tall tales like she was Paul Bunyan and not some Raggedy Ann look a like. 

But the loud attention getting version of our history was enough of a distraction that I got to look at the magazine. I snuck it under the bar edge, so no one else would see it. The rumor mill went wild enough when it looked like I might show off who might be in the book. That was my secret to confirm or deny as I pleased. And right now, with his smug face still looking so handsome in this picture? Some mention about a current girlfriend and how his love life is a great interest? I flipped to the band’s page, no longer able to stare at him without being mad. Of course Brandon mentioned fantasies and groupies, that’s all he ever acted like. At least the rest of the band had nicer neutral band related things to say.

I closed the magazine and chucked it into the sink. If only history were as easy to flush as that. Still, the message wasn’t missed on Sly. Today was not the kind of day where I would tease people with my stories of romancing a musician. He’d be lucky if I ever let him in again with that kind of attitude from the print.

Sly smoothly pulled the magazine from the sink and put it under the bar. Of course he knew me too well. I might be angry now, but even I already knew I’d be back after the crowds died down to look at his picture again. Trouble with memories was that as much as I hated him now? There was a time when I couldn’t get enough of that handsome face too.

I just had to set about controlling this new round of complications thanks to his fame and my bar’s name first.