 |
MISTER LUCKY Swing Syndicate |
|
MISTER LUCKY Swing Syndicate |
| Chapter One: | The Cast |
| Chapter Two: | The Script |
| Chapter Three: | The Shows |
| Chapter Four: | The Photos |
| Chapter Five: | The Exit |
| Chapter Six: | Update: 1-29-2000 |
| Chapter Seven: | Update: 4-6-2000 |
| Chapter Eight: | Update: 7-15-2000 A New Chapter |
The blonde in the dark glasses and stylish hat had one black-gloved hand planted firmly in the center of my desk and the other lodged menacingly halfway down her purse. I had the distinct impression the purse was only a momentary stunt double for my throat. She leaned forward. I enjoyed the view. So did the window washers. She added the soundtrack.
"This is it. Down and dirty." That's how I like it, so she had my attention. "My source has learned the exact time and place of the next four jobs they're going to pull. I need you to be there."
I leaned a little further back in my chair, hoping that she would lean just a little further forward. (It had been a slow month.) She didn't bite but that's not always a bad thing. Instead the hand came out of the purse in a hurry, slapping a crumpled piece of parchment on the weathered desk blotter. Don't ask how it got weathered. Scrawled in a hurried hand, was the skinny on the coming capers
"I suggest that you not let me down." Suddenly her sultry soundtrack was, somehow, even sexier than before. She turned to leave and I watched her go. It was fun, and it made up for the lack of leaning. She left the door open (for which I was grateful), so I got up for the first time since the second Danish of the day and closed it, pausing first to give a wink to my new Girl Friday, Helena Handbasket. She winked back, pausing for the first time since she realized you could dry your nail polish with a ceiling fan. It made a pretty picture, but then she decided to get down off the desk and have a seat.
With nothing more to watch, I turned back to my desk, and it was only then that it hit me. The window washer, who badly needed a squeegee himself, and who had been cleaning the window with tequila flavored Windex, appeared to be licking the salt off the transparent glass. Truth was, he was looking to give me a clear pain with a .45 held in the hand he had concealed in the bucket. It was the Margarita Brothers one at each window. I felt the bullets whiz by in stereo as I dove threw the window of the door I had just closed. Fortunately, I landed in Helena's lap, just as Cheech and his brother, the Chimichonger, paused for the first time to step in from the ledge. I made my move
| Chapter One: | The Cast |
| Chapter Two: | The Script |
| Chapter Three: | The Shows |
| Chapter Four: | The Photos |
| Chapter Five: | The Exit |
| Chapter Six: | Update: 1-29-2000 |
| Chapter Seven: | Update: 4-6-2000 |
| Chapter Eight: | Update: 7-15-2000 A New Chapter |
