Friday, June 12, 2015

pastel and poison part three

Slick ordered his drink and pounded it flat in too little time. I sighed and tried to split my attention. I split it too many ways.

The crowd wasn’t what you’d call typical for a bottom bucket dive, too many clean faces and free movement. Must’ve rolled in with the sparkly-eyed gal just like flies follow the honey-truck. She’d been giggling; my head was spinning with the bright, high sound. Not that that’s an excuse.

I almost missed it. I couldn’t catch a glimpse of Slick, but I saw a flash of chrome swinging out the back door. My stomach dropped. I up and ran, not bothering to play at cool.

Outside, yellow mist was lit by some damn neon sign for some damn kind of food no one remembers. Slick was in chrome cuffs, attached to a light pole that never saw a bulb. Some dick in a new blue jack stood next to him.

 I didn’t wait. Two steps and three fast cracks, Blue-jacket’s skull opened onto the opposite wall. A bright silver piece clanged to the filthy orange street.

I dropped the corpse and desperately pulled up his shirt.

“Oh Shit!” me and Slick spat out in familiar unison.

There it was.

Slick slipped the cuffs and put a hand on my shoulder. We couldn’t stop staring at that blank, white belly. We’d killed a fucking vat-boy, a fucking pig.

We’d killed a fucking vat-boy. Fuck.

We spun on heel at the sound of a sudden click, and there she stood. Sparkle-eyes lit a cigarette (They ain’t extinct!) and looked at us pointed.

“Well fellas, who’s the money man?” she wanted to know

“Harry Hard,” said Slick without thinking.

I sighed and snatched the vapor stick from his fingers.

“You talked Harry Hard into handing you hard cash with a promise?” She was curious.

I took another drag and turned the dead law-boy’s pockets inside out.


“What was the score?”

“Glucose and glass,” Slick kept right on saying too much.

I picked up the dropped piece and turned towards the pretty lady.

“I just may have to keep you boys alive,” she mused.

I followed her shining eyes. A bright red line shot through the fog, ending in a deadly red dot. I remembered how to breathe again, when the dot disappeared.

It had fell apart, no surprise. Time to catch the shake.

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