Bad Deal
by Adam Maillet
The evening swirled around in a glass of scotch and soda, dim lights hovered above a low murmur of smoke and booze. Just your average Friday night at The End, a Jim sat in a corner, scared as hell.
Dammit, it wasn't supposed to have gone down like that! Jacky had him convinced; had he been a fool for a pair of long legs in a short skirt? Well, served him right he supposed, now all he could do was hide, run, or swim. When one is as attached to life as Jim, choice number three becomes less and less appealing, and the person starts to look for alternatives.
A passing jerk brought him back to the bar, as the stranger kicked the leg of his chair and didn't look back. "Asshole" he murmured. His drink sat in front of him, he hadn't touched it in an hour, instead deciding that sweating until the entire bar was filled was plenty good enough, and he was well on his way. As he was wiping his palm on the green-carpeted table, two guys walked in through the door, far too familiar for comfort. The muscles edged around tables, searching for something, Jim was unfortunately aware that something was him, and in a desperate dive that knocked over his chair, ran for the back exit.
The night air hit him like a truck, and the cold burned at his heaving lungs. His boots shattered the puddles while each consecutive streetlight brought another wave of fear of exposure. Jim ducked into the first alley he saw and cursed the screeching cat he stepped on, and the trashcan it knocked over on its flight; then there was quiet. After a few seconds, a brief drone of voices and the opening and closing of a door echoed down the alleyway. The steady clunk of boots could be heard walking closer and closer, and Jim hand went around to the small of his back.
His sweaty fingers gripped the ridged handle of a nine-millimeter berretta, the safety clicked off as he brought the gun around. Back to the brick wall, breath dancing around the barrel of his gun, and eyes closed, Jim forced himself to wait those few extra seconds he knew he needed. When he thought they were close enough he spun around the corner and fired off his first shot. Through the smoke he could see the first thug hunch over his stomach, dropping his gun. The other raised his weapon, but Jim leaped to his left just as the finger hit the trigger, and landed hard on his shoulder. His second shot rang out in the night air, and the other man's head became a mass of red and black as his body crumbled backwards.
"Shit." Jim flipped back the safety and tucked his nine away. The blood was beginning to pool, devouring inch after inch of the winter concrete. With one last glance he turned and pumped his legs down the street, a couple of hours had passed; maybe Jacky had a chance to get back to her place and pack. After twenty minutes of turns, Jim reached Jacky's apartment building, and without stopping headed straight for the stairs inside, up to the fourth floor. Roaches guarded the halls, and the entire place looked like it was attacked by crumbling wallpaper, but hey, this was all they knew, all they had ever known. This job would've changed that, but what could Jim say, he got greedy.
He knocked open the fourth floor door and grabbed the handle of apartment 402. With the touch he realized that it was unlocked - she must've just gotten back!
"Hey baby its m-" its hard to finish a sentence with a .45 Peacemaker pointed at your face, oh well, at least he had style.
"Jimmy, so nice of you to join us." The man with gun let out a snide grin. "Thought you could double-cross your old pal Mike? Sit your sorry ass down." He motioned with the gun to Jacky's ripped up red leather chair. Not really having any arguments, Jim considered the alternative and thought it best to do what the asshole with gun thought best. After sitting down, Jacky came sashaying out of the back in red lingerie.
"Ooo, Mikey you've found him!"
"Jacky... hey� c'mon baby, we had a deal."
"Shut up Jim! Another word and they'll be scraping your fucking ass off the wall." Mike relaxed the gun a little, and let it fall to his side. "Ya couldn't just take what I gaves ya, could ya? Could ya?" He reiterated his point by tapping the barrel on Jim's chest. "That haul is the biggest of the year, and twenty percent wasn't good enough, thought ya'd show up early with the third party, cut the middle man and run off with the girl, heh, nice ta see everything worked out for ya," after a pause he motioned for Jacky to come closer. He grabbed her arm and went into a series of crude kisses before squeezing her breast, slapping her ass, and pushing her away. "Well Jim, it's been nice knowing ya," and with a wink leveled his gun.
But before he could finish the job, a cloud of red exploded from the right side of his head, and he fell to the floor. Jacky's Desert Eagle to the rescue. "Didn't think I was going to let the big bad Mike get you.... did'ya?" she grinned.
"Shit! Took ya long enough!"
"Shut up asshole, I saved your life!" but her grin betrayed her words.
Letting out a sigh Jim sneered, "A couple calls and we'll be on a beach by morning." Her red lace was already falling to the floor.
-2003
