“Baby, listen—”
“You’re a good man, Mick. But I don’t know if I can keep doing this. A girl can’t wait forever, you know.”
If I had a chocolate chip for every time I heard that line, I’d be neck deep in cookies. I knew exactly where the conversation was headed. I put the Bogart on my head and tilted it the way I liked it.
“You’re right, Angel. I’m bad news. A dame like you deserves better.” She opened her mouth to protest, but I couldn’t let her add a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down.
I hate that Mary Poppins bunk.
“I’m gonna turn things around, Angel. Promise. Look, I gotta go. Thanks again. For everything.”
I felt pretty depressed on my way back to the ride. Angel was one of the best dames I knew, but she did deserve better. There was nothing in my past except dark waters, and nothing ahead but storm clouds. She was better off without someone like me holding her back. I gently stroked the sling that she had carefully bundled my arm into.
Poddar’s voice interrupted my cloud of misery. "Ok. Now we look for Donna."
It took me a minute to realize I’d made it to the parking garage. I kinda zoned out in my cloud of self-derision.
“Who the hell is Donna?”
Poddar looked away, embarrassed. “Ms. Kilby. Donna is her first name.”
"Ohhhh, yeah. You're worried about Tommy giving her the third, right? Yeah, I would be too if I had a sweet dame just vanish like that. The thought her all tied up and helpless…"
I had to pause for a moment. Because of the blade pressed against my neck. I had barely seen him move, but the ol' Prince had pulled a twelve-inch kukri to my throat faster than I thought possible. And here I thought he was heeled with a heater the whole time.
"You will talk about Ms. Kilby with respect.” There was a threatening darkness behind his words. Some chumps have no sense of humor.
I tried hard not to swallow, since the edge of the blade was sharp enough to shave with. "Poddar. My man. Keep your train on the track, Ace. We’re on the same side, remember?"
He held the blade there for a second, searching my face. Satisfied, he returned the kukri into the folds of his flogger and tried to open the car door.
“In need of a thumb?” I scanned mine, unlocking Maxine.
He smiled a little in embarrassment, which I was glad to see. I hate lugs that hold grudges.
I had just put Maxine in reverse when another crate pulled up behind to block us. It was hard to tell with their brights on, but it looked suspiciously like the cherry-red wheeler I'd seen following us earlier. The doors opened and three figures stepped out. I could barely see them, but they looked like the curvy silhouettes of dames. I thought about Nimrods, but that wasn't Tommy's style. If he was responsible, Maxine would've mushroomed the moment I cranked her.
"Get out slowly.” I gave Poddar a confident look as I opened my door. My good hand was on the Mean Ol' Broad for reassurance. "Let me do the talking."
"This should be interesting.”
Ol' Poddar was getting quite sardonic lately.
They were dames, all right. Three of them: a blonde, a redhead, and a brunette. They were draped in enough black corsets, leather, and heels for a fetish convention. Armed to the teeth too, but not with heaters. They seemed to prefer blades, as they all had swords and daggers strapped to their sweet, curvaceous bodies. The brunette casually twirled a Bo staff.
I relaxed and hooked my thumbs in my belt as I gave them my most disarming smile. "Well, well. If it isn't Charlie's Angels. Listen sweethearts, if you're looking to audition for yet another bad remake, you might wanna take into account that you’re a ways off from Hollywood. Well, that and the fact that it don’t exist anymore."
The Bo staff blurred and cracked me right on the arm. The injured one. It hurt.
A lot.
The brunette’s smile was vicious. "Love that you can still tell jokes after all the trouble you've caused. You do a lot of damage for a two-bit shamus. We do more. Let me introduce us. I'm Christina. My sisters are Kelly and Jen. Our affiliation is the Gutter Girls. Which means you can be smart and do what we tell you, or you can be bunny and do it anyways after we scrub the pavement with your ugly mugs."
"You forgot about the third option.” I casually reached for the Mean Ol' Broad. As blades whistled through the air, I realized that might have been a mistake.
Chapter 5: Gutter Girls
The rule about gunplay is simple: Never pull if you're not gonna squeeze off. I knew that, but pulling out the Mean Ol' Broad is kinda second nature to me when I'm in a jam. I'm a pretty quick draw too; quick enough to pull the ol' Broad out of her slip and have her steel-plated muzzle pointed right between the eyes of Christina, the Gutter Girl with a penchant for rapping men in their bum limbs with her Bo staff.
That's when it all got screwed up.
I don't have a problem plugging a lug who's gunning for me. In fact I get a quiet kind of satisfaction from putting down any goon who's got it coming. But my problem?
I got a sweet spot for the dames. So even though I beat her to the punch, there was no way I was gonna pull that trigger.
And bless her sweet lil' ass, she knew it. I could tell from the way she smiled when she cracked me on the funny bone with that staff of hers, sending the Broad flying out of my deadened hand.
Which wasn't funny at all, actually.
After that it was a lot of ducking and dodging. That’s a bit harder than it sounds, especially when you got a bum arm wound in a sling. I stole a quick glance at Poddar. He had his kukri out and was engaged in a nice little throw with the other two Gutter Girls — Jen and Kelly, the blonde and redheaded dames. Their Bushido swords flickered like steel lightning, but Poddar was good. Unfortunately he was focused only on defense, which meant he suffered from the same handicap as me. He was too much of a Prince to try actually hurting those crazy dames.
My distraction cost me. The Bo staff whistled and cracked me a good one on the temple. While a marching band stomped around in my head, the pavement rushed toward me. Oddly enough, I didn’t really black out all the way. Instead my brain took a time out and switched channels on me…
I have to kill someone. That was the first thought when I awakened. I opened my eyes. A labcoat had his back to me. He was fiddling with wires that extended to the back of a synoid’s head. I followed the long tangled line of crossed over cables.
They were hooked up to me. I slowly reached up. A helmet-shaped device was strapped to my head. All the wires were inserted into it.
My heart pounded. I couldn’t remember a thing. Only fuzzy, washed up images. The labcoat was someone important. He was called… something. Madman. Thief. Genius.
I have to kill him.
But not in my current state. I was weak, disoriented. In that condition he might have a chance of fighting me off. I slowly unstrapped the helmet device. I didn’t know what damage I would do by removing it, but I had to take the chance.
I took it off.
The monitors betrayed me by beeping furiously.
The labcoat turned. He was a white-haired codger with wise wrinkles. His eyes widened. “What — you should be unconscious! How—?”
I interrupted him by kicking the nearby table into his gut. As he staggered, I rolled off the operating table and staggered into a run. His shouts followed me, but I didn’t dare look back. I made my way to the nearest door. Just before I got there, it opened.