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A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Sunday, October 04, 2009

Flash Fiction: Noir Story

Chapter 19

The next morning I felt like six kinds of weak old shit. The anti-inflammatories had cut down on the swelling around my eye, but it was still black and blue. Annie'd reset my nose as well after the pain meds had kicked in too so breathing was a lot easier. The purplish bruising along my side had taken on a yellow hue and was tender as fuck so we had wrapped them up in some bandages. My movements had sure slowed down but at least I was up and about again.

Annie cooked me some breakfast and peppered me with questions about what I was gonna do next. She didn't say anything stupid about how the case was to dangerous or that I was in over my head, for which I was grateful. Annie didn't pull any of that kind of shit. She knew who I was still deep down, maybe that was why she stuck with me. She had however, insisted on checking out the Zero Room tonight and casing the place. I had argued with her about it, that it was to dangerous, but she had made to many good points. She could check the place out without arising any suspicion and see if she spotted Johnny Sixx or Roger Horner, or maybe even Elsa herself before I went in.

I wasn't happy about it, but I knew she was gonna do what she wanted to no matter how much I fought it and frankly I was to fucking tired and sore to argue. That afternoon I spent some time finding some pictures of Sixx out of my old case files for Annie to study. I also let her look at the copies of pics I had of Elsa and Horner so she was ready. Annie wasn't some rookie kid, she had grown up on the streets and knew how to handle herself in tough situations. She wouldn't make obvious mistakes. Still, I went over with her the best way to phrase questions and told her what to keep an eye out for. Lastly I programmed her cell phone to speed dial me by pressing the number one. If she got into any trouble, I could make a move.

Later that night Annie got ready to hit the club. The Zero Room was located on the edge of the Burrow. Just on the fringe of the warren to be dangerous, but not so deep within to scare everyone off. The place rocked an underground rave scene, a mixture of electronic punk dance that I was to old for but where Anne would fit right in. She was wearing knee length black boots and a leather mini skirt and jacket. Her blood red tank top plunged deeply in the front, showing off her breasts and the tattoo's that spread over the front of her chest. She wore enough chains and spikes to fit in at an S & M festival to boot. Frankly, she looked perfect.

We made our way downstairs to catch a cab, and little did I know that after tonight, our relationship would change forever.

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