Don’t Like Your Girls Hungry

I smoke.  We all do.  It’s what you do around here when you can’t afford to eat.  So I’m taken by surprise when he lights up at the rasp in my voice.  I see his eyes drift down to my legs.  Too thin and wrapped in ripped stockings.  The way they linger there though— he either likes his girls scrappy or hungry. I can work with either. Though one of those lies I won’t be able to keep up for long.   The dog at his feet hasn’t so much as twitched since I’ve walked in. Must not even be a whiff of a threat on me.  There was a time when that would’ve nipped at my pride.  Gotten me a little riled.  Now I’m half sure the thing’s right.  

“What brings a girl like you all the way to this side a town?”

This side a town.  Like I wasn’t born just down the street.  He must think I’m a good deal younger than I am to be taken in by flattery like that.  It’s strange.  Nothing in my life had ever gone easier than I expected.  

“They told me you were the man to see.”

“Certainly could be.  All depends on what you’re looking for.”

“I’m looking for a killer.”

“Then they were right.  You just tell me who the bastard got and I’ll find him.”

My heart begins to race.  Fingers tracing the edge of the photograph clutched in my hand.  The dog opens its eyes. Raising its head to scent the air. 

I toss the photograph onto the desk by his feet.  Shifting them to the floor, he sits up, hunching over to get a better look.  It doesn’t take more than a second.

“You bitch!”  He’s reaching for his gun, but mine has been up my sleeve since I walked in.  Three bullets explode, inky red, into his chest before his .45 is even cocked.  

Movement from the corner of my eye has me swinging my gun around.  The dog.  It lunges.  I get off two shots.  One hits the wall. The other goes straight through the thing’s neck.  It slams to the office floor, heavy.  Muscled.  For the first time in two years, I smile.  Looks like we won’t be going hungry tonight.