They looked like they came off the wall at a roadside motel pulled right from Route 66. Americana. ‘You got it, David,’ he said with a nod. ‘Jam...s Arturo Zimmer.’ A grin crossed his thin lips, knowing. He got a quizzical look from his guest. ‘I don’t like James, Jim, Jack or Arturo. Everyone around here calls me Jaz, and I expect you and your lovely wife to do the same,’ he continued, leaning on his elbows. His good nature gave his gravelly voice a natural ‘smile’ that matched the one on his. Normally this wouldn’t bother me but the guy looked very familiar. As I walked a little closer to get a better view I heard Emma excuse herself to who she was dancing with as she came to see what was up. I pointed and she looked concerned. ?It can’t be. Surely it’s someone that just looks a little like him, maybe it’s the drink? She stuttered. I wanted to believe her, but I recognised that shirt, it was a gift I brought him and I was close enough now to see the face pull away from. More

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