As a joke a few years ago, I wrote a tongue in cheek Film Noir series titled "Danger Broad." Someone asked me to drag her out again, so here she is.
The bar was dark, a stark contrast from the early morning sunshine she left behind as she entered the tavern and sat down on the stool. She always sat there.
It had been a long night, spent under the covers with a private dick she usually hung with after doing business. Don or Dom Dingleberry or some fruity berry name like that. She could never get them straight. All she knew was that she was thirsty and didn't have time for breakfast. Or would this be dinner?
She pulled out her pack of Lucky Strikes from her handbag, sticking the last cigarette in the pack between her lips and jutting her jaw towards the bartender, who had a match and a smile ready.
"Regular, hon?" he said as he lit the end of it.
"Scotch. Neat. And don't skimp on me this time, Alan, its been a rough night."
"Sure thing, sweetheart. Working that case still, huh?"
"Yeah, its been a long couple of years, but I think I almost got her nailed."
She'd been tailing this chick for years, a slight petite woman who walked fast and talked even faster. She was her meal ticket out of this hell hole. But it had to be clean, and it had to be quick. That was the deal, or no payment.
The barkeep laid the glass on the coaster next to the ashtray she had stolen from the hotel room. Alan was cool, he let her flop in the back sometimes when she was between receiving payments and was low on cash.
The bar was empty except for an old man sitting at a round table in the back and a young black man in the corner. It was, after all, only 10:00 a.m. and the others wouldn't be arriving until the lunch break, when they could steal a game of pool and down a few beers before heading back to the factory.
She eyed the man sitting in the corner, watching the t.v. intently.
"You playing the horses again, Maynard?" She yelled out. Why you waste your money like that, brother, you got a better chance of winning at the lottery!"
"Yo, baby, how's it hangin?" Maynard shouted back to her. "I'll be right over. Keep that seat next to you warm, you sweet thang."
"In your dreams, babe, in your dreams" she laughed as she took another drag on her Lucky Strike and slammed back her scotch in one gulp.
"Hit me again, pal" she said, her head starting to pound. She didn't drink that much, but when she did, it always gave her a headache first. Then the buzz would kick in and she would be able to think again, the fog lifting.
Realizing he had lost his 50 bucks, Maynard got up and walked over to the Blonde woman, now lighting another cigarette and motioning to the bartender to hit her again.
"Been staking out her place on the corner, just like you asked" he said as he sat down on the stool next to her.
"She leaves the house the same time everyday, gets a cup of coffee and picks up a paper at the corner. Same time everyday, you could set your watch by her. Man is this chick boring. I thought I'd add a little excitement to her life, dropping my potato chip bags on her lawn every now and then, see if I can piss her off. She never seems to get angry though, just kind of watches me leave and then goes to pick em up. Too calm for me, I tell ya. Creepy."
"What!" she said suddenly. "She's seen you, Maynard?" Maynard could see the gun in the holster underneath her blouse, pushing one white breast over the side, her chest heaving now with anger.
"Well, ah.....yeah..., but it ain't like I'm gonna stick on among the rest of the brothers" he stuttered. "Ya know? I ain't nothing special looking and I always wear my blue hat. She ain't seen my face too good, no ma'am, not too good at all."
The woman looked at him and realized he was starting to perspire, drops of sweat starting to drip off the side of his close cropped afro.
"Well, be careful man" she said as she stood up and drained the rest of her scotch.
"She must be getting wise to me, because she's started to look at me when I pass her at a stop light or we happen to be in the same diner. I can't let her see me. I have to kill her without her knowing what hit her, thats the deal. If she talks to me, I lose it all."
"Okay, then, babe. Jeez, don't be mad" he said as he started to get up too.
"I'm not mad, Maynard. Just be careful."
Maynard relaxed alittle, his shoulders aligned with her. He was a tall thin man about 6 ft, and she was standing right next to him.
"Ok. What's this chicks name again, anyway."
"Eileen. They call her Eileen. Can you think of a less sickening name?"
They stood up and walked to the door together, when the Bartender Alan shouted out to them.
"You guys be careful out there, ya here? Especially you, missy."
They waved, not turning their heads around as they left.
They man sitting in the back who had been watching the whole scene from the corner of his eye got up from his table and sat at the bar.
"Say, buddy" he said to Alan as he plopped himself down on the stool. "Who was that blonde broad, anyway."
"Stay away from her, Rooster." he answered. "You don't wanna know her."
"I don't wanna know her" he said. "Just her name. What's her name?"
"Her name?" he said as he started to wipe down the bar, and dumping the cigarettes out of her ashtray. He didn't even like to say it out loud. You never knew who could be watching or listening.
"Debbie" he whispered. "Her name is Debbie."
To be continued........
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