Whoever (whomever?) was jamming the gun in his ribs, pressed against his back and blew a heated blast in his ear.
“You a moron?” Delorez whispered. “If not, why the hell are you in here blowing our cover?”
“Just wanted a magazine to pass the time. Hey--you needed cupcakes, I needed someth--”
Ms-with-a-z jerked the gun harder into his ribcage. “Fool. Now turn real quiet and go over to the pharmacy. Buy some cough medicine and see if that’ll change some minds about who you are.”
“Back off with the barrel. Feels like you’re gonna bruise me.”
“Bruising will be the least of it. Move!”
Bitch thought she could boss him-- The detective turned halfway round to ease the pressure on his ribs, only to have her bite his ear lobe hard. He jumped and they jostled into the customer behind them, stepping on his foot. His plastic bag dropped to the floor and glass smashed inside. Cherry syrup spread out over the floor.
“Sorry, sir, we were just having some fun here.” Delorez flashed a smile so big her gums gleamed while quietly pocketing the gun in her polyester windbreaker. “We’ll buy you another bottle of whatever it is you had in there. My little daddy here was just goin’ back to get something he forgot. Men without shopping lists…” She chuckled and shook her head.
Don, still feeling the after effects of last night’s binge in Golden Shores, stared down at the leaking bottle on the dirty cement floor. Shit. Rocky had been too screwed up to come today. Frank had not been impressed by yesterday’s bootie--“One bottle?--gimme a break--go back and get more or I’ll shoot the dogs.” Don liked the dogs, drooling, gaseous, flea-bag killers that they were.
He looked up at the woman in front of him. Not a woman to mess with. Some pale-looking wimp was behind her, partially blocked from view by her curvy six foot tall frame. “There ain’t any left on the shelf," he muttered.
By Anonymous
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