Three Times Trouble

Three Times Trouble

Silence finally filled the warehouse on the pier. On the concrete floor near a wall, propped up on an elbow, a man all in black laid bleeding from a wound on his thigh. A few feet away, a woman in a navy blue uniform, her badge catching the dull light, had a man, also in black, by the throat pressed against the wall. But her gaze wasn’t on him. It bore down on the bleeding man and the gun he aimed at her. Her gun returned the gesture. The choked mans bulging eyes glanced to his right, to his now-useless gun on the floor. His shallow breaths came out in small plumes of mist.

The blonde in blue broke the silence. “Give it up Murdock. Tell me where my cut of the money is.”

Wincing though pain, Murdock spat back, “Screw you. You sold us out to your buddies downtown. I’ll rot in Hell before you ever see the money.” He coughed blood into his beard.

The woman’s jaw clenched, her gun quivered from her rage. The choked man made his move.

His right arm was a blur, moved in a circle. It touched the woman’s arm, twisted around it, tried to bend it backward. With a slight shove, she stumbled back, and his left hand shot out, snatched the gun from her. Her hand flew to the small of her back, whipped forward gripping a second, smaller gun, pointing at the gun pointed at her. The once-choked man’s eyes still had a bulgy look to them. His mouth was a hard line.

Eyes fierce, mouth agape, she threw glances between the two men pinning her. Large white clouds followed her flustered breathes. All was quiet.

Ornamental plates and dishes set above cabinets in the kitchen. Azalea hands a cup of coffee to her husband. He sips it, puts it down, turns to his wife.

“Please be safe. You know I don’t like what you’re doing today.” Concern creases his brow.

Azel gives him a small smile. “And I’ve told you, Dean,” she says as she slips her arms around his neck, “For a bust, it doesn’t get any safer than this. The Force knows everything about these guys, it’s all planned out. I’ll be fine and home by six.” She kisses him lightly on the lips.

Face unchanged, he says, “Just make sure you come back to us. To me.” He wraps his arms around her waist and squeezes, lowers his head next to hers.

A small child, in a thick pink coat and light brown hair in pig-tails, bursts into the room. She stops short.

“Eww! Mommy and Daddy are kissing!”

Dean pulls back and says, “I’m just saying good-bye to mommy, Marion. But time to go now.” The little girl runs past them, grabs her lunchbox off the counter then runs to the door and outside. Dean kisses Azel as he passes her. “Be safe.”

“I will,” she says. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey. See you later.”

Murdock let out a rye, un-amused laugh and smiled big, showing brown teeth. “Well, well. Isn’t this peachy. Looks like we’re calling the shots now, Azel.” He winced again and reached for his leg with the hand propping him up. “But come to think of it, I think I’ll be taking the money all for myself.” The reach for his leg took a detour and instead pulled an identical gun from his coat. He leveled it at the man.

Azel swung herself to aim at Murdock, then back to the man, hovered between the two, finally to Murdock. The man’s head moved just enough to look at him. His eyes shifted between the adversaries. His expression didn’t change.

“Sorry, Pierre. No hard feelings I hope. If you could talk I’m sure you’d have plenty to say.” This time Murdock smiled big and warm. “But you can’t.”

Brows knit together, the line of his mouth turned down. Pierre gripped his gun with both hands and turned it on his former ally. Azel glanced at him.

Fresh-showered and shaved, Pierre walks into the boarding-houses’ kitchen and smiles. With her back to him stands a woman, thin and dark skinned, with short, red, feathered hair. He leans against the door frame and taps his finger against it. The woman starts, turns to look. She smiles that it’s only Pierre.

“Good morning, Pierre,” she says. She holds out a glass of orange juice to him. “Here you go.”

Pierre walks over next to her, takes the glass. Thank you, he signs, and takes a swallow. You look pretty in that dress, Stacy.

Stacy looks down at the dark green dress with small white dots, smiles and nods. “Thank you. You look fine yourself this morning.” She turns back to the counter, places some scrambled eggs in her mouth. “Did that meeting you have last night go good for you?” She looks at him.

It was, he pauses mid-sign. It went great.

Stacy smiles. “Good. Glad to hear it.” She continues to eat. Pierre drinks the rest of his juice. The clink of her silverware is the only sound. Pierre fiddles with the glass. He finally breaks the silence.

Stacy. Stacy turns. I have live here for a long time; known you for a long time.

“About five years.”

I am going to move out soon.

Stacy stares at him. “Oh.” She looks at her plate. “That’s…great. I’m happy for you.” A smile lights her face as she looks at Pierre. It never touches her eyes.

I would like for you to come with me.

Stacy plays with her fork, not looking at him. “Someone needs to run the boarding house here. I could never go with you.” Still doesn’t look at him.

He reaches his hand out, touches her arm with his fingers. She looks in his eyes. He signs, I know, but think about it. I will talk to you tomorrow.

Murdock’s smile slipped. Anger replaced it. Before he could speak, Azel blurted;

“You’re shot, Murdock. Even if you kill us both, you’ll never make it out of here. You need us to help you out, at least. If you kill us, you’re dead.”

Murdock quivered, ground his teeth. He shouted, “I don’t need either of you! You think I’m done for, do you? I should kill both you weaklings just for that!” Spit flew as he yelled. “This is my plan! I’ve earned this!” Fingers clenched the guns tighter.

The sun crept over the tops of the buildings in the city, but it was black inside the rundown hotel. Murdock trudges down a moldy hall not smelling it, stops at a door, almost tears it off the hinges opening it. Inside, a black haired woman, stark naked, jerks awake from under the blankets.

Murdock clicks the light on, turns into the bathroom, and shouts, “Woman, I want that ass of yours, now. Get ready.” A small splashing sound seeps from the open door.

The woman clutches the blankets to her chest, wide awake and horrified. “Baby, you woke me up,” she quivers, trying to sound regular. “We had a good time last night, now I need a little break.” She begins to shiver.

Murdock steps from the bathroom. “Donna, don’t make me say it again.”

Donna forces a smile. “Baby, even I have to…”

Murdock lunges on the bed, plants a back-hand slap on the woman’s mouth. She rolls, hits the floor hard, scrambles to her knees. Mouth bloody, the woman shouts, “You’ve been using! What is it this time? Speed? Meth? What’s wrong with you?!” Tears stream down her cheeks.

Murdock puts a death-grip on her chin, forcing her mouth open. Her terror filled eyes meet his dilated ones, he smiles and says, “You better believe I’m on something. Haven’t slept for days. And if you want any of what I’m coming into tonight, you’ll put out, right now.” With a shove, he lets her go. She sits in silence on the floor for a long moment, staring at nothing. He leans back in bed, also gazing at nothing. Moments later, the door is locked, the lights are out, and small squeaks echo in numb ears.

“Murdock!” Azel said loudly, “you can’t get away with this! We all just need to calm down and talk this out!” She shifted her grip.

“Calm down! I’ll step over your corpses out of here, then I’ll calm down!”

Pierre squeezed the handle of his gun.

Azel: “Murdock!”

“Fuck you!”

Four blasts punctuated and silenced the clash. Groans slipped from lips. Azel flopped over onto her stomach as she pulled the radio from her belt.

“Man down,” she rasped, “Pier 22,” and said no more.





Note: Written for class, from a prompt. Not my best work. =)