He changed trains in Washington, D.C., again in Richmond, Virginia, for the third time in Atlanta, Georgia. He wanted to get off in Atlanta and take a few days to see Mallory Evans, his favorite piano student before Agnes Limerick started taking lessons in '16. She'd gotten married and moved there, already had six children. He didn't have the time, however. The journey, already nearly forty hours, would be another sixteen before he reached Miami Beach, Florida and the ragtime band he planned to join for the winter.
They would play Scott Joplin, George Gershwin, and Igor Stravinsky to guests at the Delano and the Fontainebleau. He'd stay in the Kenmore, a guest house for musicians and their "friends." Everyone in Miami Beach knew what "friend" meant for a musician, especially a piano teacher from Philadelphia who wore bright green and yellow ties and red jackets. Brian didn't really care what anyone thought, not enough to get rid of his bow ties and jackets, and definitely not enough to lower his voice for the dried-up 400 clubbers from Philadelphia and New York.
He made the final connection in Valdosta, Georgia. He finally saw the name of his destination -- Miami Beach, Florida on the Flagler Special. The train lurched forward before Brian even had a chance to put his square box of a suitcase on the shelf above his cabin, empty save for three lone passengers on the opposite side. They came over to help him, all three seedy thin, tall, wearing faded dungarees and heavy flannel overcoats. Dirty blond hair, goatees, mustaches that hadn't been tended in months. Wide-brimmed hats that made it impossible for Brian to see their eyes. They surrounded Brian, lifted his suitcase above his head.
"Thank you, gentlemen, for the help."
The one behind Brian landed his punch in his lower back at the same time the heavy-set man in on his right landed his own left fist squarely on the right side of Brian's jaw. Brian put his hand up to his mouth, feeling the warm taste of blood and the chalky weight of teeth knocked loose by the force. The third man clutched Brian from behind around the waste as the other two lifted Brian landed their punches on Brian's stomach. They threw him to the ground, knocking his head against the metal side of Brian's bench.
Brian groaned in a voice deeper than one he'd ever used in speaking. Why couldn't he have remembered, he wasn't in Philadelphia anymore, and he wasn't yet in Miami Beach?
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