For LS, by request.
About a three minute read.
They say horses sweat, men perspire, and a lady merely glows. He'd never bring a horse to bed, but somebody in here was sweating. The wall fan creaked and swayed. He leaned up on his elbow and reached for his whiskey glass; it was the one without a cigarette crumpled in it.
He fumbled in the dim light and the wet glass nearly slid away from. He recovered it and took a swig.
Hmm, he thought. Wrong glass.
He swallowed anyway and lit another cigarette.
“We’re out of ice,” he said.
The fan creaked.
She was asleep. He looked at her while he smoked and noticed she was glowing. Still no horse in the bed. He’d never be able to sleep in this heat. He stood up, walked over to the window, and lit another cigarette.
Well, he thought, crime never sleeps either.
He spread the blinds slightly and peeked out. They were looking for her, but he’d been careful. He knew they hadn't been tailed. He peeked anyway. No sign of Big Tony’s guys. He peeked the other way and lit another cigarette. No sign of Little Tony’s guys either.
What did they want so bad anyhow? None of his business. He didn’t want to know. Still, if he was expected to protect her…
He slumped down in the corner armchair and sighed. Of all the broads to get mixed up with, it had to be one of Tony’s girls. He adjusted his shoulder holster and wiped the sweat off his horse.
He glanced over at the nightstand. He could barely make out her pocketbook in the red neon filtering through the blinds. He saw a corner of something jutting out. Hmm. Something that looked like an envelope, which is what it was. A suspicious envelope. Exactly the kind Tony's guys might be after.
He pushed the fedora up on his forehead and lit another cigarette. He really should mind his own business. He didn’t have a horse in this race. He stood up slowly and reached for the envelope.
TOP SECRET was stamped on the front.
Hmm, he thought. A top secret envelope.
He flicked his lighter behind the envelope to try and have a better look, and she stirred in the bed.
“Hrrmm…” she sighed, sounding hoarse. "We're out of ice," she muttered under her breath to no one. She lit a cigarette and settled back into slumber.
That was a close one, he thought, farting softly to himself.
Just then, there was a loud knock at the door. He dove behind the bed and leveled his pistol just over the horse.
"WE KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE," a man yelled. "MEDIUM TONY WOULD LIKE A WORD WIT’ YA!!!"
His heart sunk. He hadn't counted on Medium Tony. He eyeballed the cylinder of his revolver. Five bullets. He was really up against it.
The door pounded again.
"Hey, uh dollface," he said past his cigarette, "we're in a spot of trouble here."
She pushed the sheet off and stood up. His world stopped as the door swung open and the medium-sized guys spilled into the room Tommy guns first. He crouched down behind the edge of the bed and pulled his fedora low.
He lit another cigarette and peeked the revolver up over the bed without opening his eyes. He squeezed the trigger as he heard the machine guns open up.
She reared up on her haunches, muscles bulging and her coat glistening with sweat. The bullets zipped past her as she whinnied loudly; the fan creaked in the corner and lit another cigarette. She pawed at the air and reflected the Tommy gun slugs back at Tony's guys. Her aim was true. She caught five thugs right between the eyes. She neighed in triumph.
In one motion, he grabbed the top secret envelope and swung up to mount his horse. She reared up again, and he holstered the revolver as they jumped through the blinds, broken glass twinkling in the neon light behind them.