Marco Domici: No Cheap Date

"She's drunk." Drak said quietly as a couple mopheads looked at the woman slumped on the corner stool. "Wallet's in the left thigh pocket."

It was semi dark, as usual. Day or night, the "Prancing Pony" kept a half lit smoky atmosphere. The room stank of stale draught and vomit, but Drak just figured people drank more to cover the smell. Maybe there was a little blood here and there, too. One more drink usually covered it.

He went back to drying the glasses and putting them under the bar. The grifters moved away, carrying their drinks. The mark was maybe mid thirties, very shapely in heavy cloth pants and fake hide jacket, and definitely slumped like a drunk. The five empty shot glasses in front of her agreed. The ashtray was full and one was going to burn her fingers shortly.

Hap, the eldest of the pair, leaned against the bar a couple meters to the mark's left. He would cover while Glenra pulled the biz. Glenra eased in and watched the mark out of the side of her eyes. Drak's mirror had been busted for years, didn't do much good any more.

Glenra smiled at Hap and eased her hand down. Her touch was always gentle, she hadn't gotten caught in months. Hap had taught her well. She could feel how close she was, her hand drifted down. Almost there, slowly, and then her fingers rested on another hand.

Glenra started. Hap's glared at her, and then he turned towards the scene. Drak saw, and moved a bit closer.

As Glenra turned, she saw a man hugging the mark. His left hand was also on her left thigh, possessively. His right hand was wrapped around her waist. He looked at Glenra, and smiled. "Sorry, we're not into foursomes right now. Maybe later, though. You and your bud there any fun?"

The man was dressed in a loose sweater, draft pants, and sports feet. While the style choices said "modern citizen", the hair cut and the eyes said "pure military". He lost the fake smile.

"Hey, me and the lady were talk..." Glenda felt the metal jam into her stomach as the man ceased to smile.

"You and your boy there will go away and leave us alone. Either because you had a smart thought for the first time in your life, or because I pulled the trigger. Your call."

"We don't want no trouble here, mister." Drak said, his right hand below the bar counter. He was ready for action. Or so he thought.

The drunk woman moaned, finally seeming to feel someone hugging her. "Huh?"

"Drak, I'm a lot faster than you and that old slug thrower. The bar is too cheap to be made of anything that will stop the blow through I'm about to use. You want to back off and let my date and I drink in peace, or do I slag you and your partners here."

"Hey, I never seen..." Drak stopped. The man had looked at him in a way that said lying was a very bad, and final, plan.

Hap and Glenra glared, then backed off. "If that's your date, mister, she ain't cheap. I got a tab on her." He snorted. "Besides, not sure she'll be good for..."

Again, Drak stopped. He had crossed the line again and knew the next time would be the last.

"She ain't cheap." He said as he moved away. "Not at all."

"Don't I know it." The man said quietly. "Ang, let's get you to a booth. More dignified." He put her weapon back in its holster and threw one of her arms over his shoulder. They half walked, half stumbled to a back booth.

"Coffee. Black and plentiful." he said to the dancer who seemed to double as a mug slinger.

"We don't do much of that, mister." The credits he put on her tray disappeared quickly. "Still, for a cutie like you, I'll take care of it." She winked. "If she's not enough for you, lemme know."

"Thanks." He sat across from Ang and just looked at her for a while. When the coffee mugs came he slid one close to her and used his hand to waft the smell to her nose.

"Huh?" Ang moaned. She seemed to smell the coffee. She cursed, and put a hand to her forehead. Slowly sitting up, shakily bringing the cup to her mouth, she sipped. "Hot." She looked at the man, and cursed. "You. Didn't you get the hint when I said I hated your guts?"

"Hope springs eternal." He sipped his coffee. "How's life treating you, Ang?"

"What do you care? Really?" She sipped. "Besides, how did you find me?" Her eyes quickly moved over his hands, and paused. They went back to her mug. "This stuff is lousy."

"It never was any good." He sipped, and grimaced. "Probably the same pot. Didn't we get thrown out of here once for under-age drinking?"

"Twice." She replied as she leaned towards the mug just to draw in the heat.

"I only remember once. Different bartender than now, though."

"Twice. I spiked your drink. It was a bit much though. You passed out shortly after starting a pole dance on the bar counter in your skivvies. Didn't seem to notice there wasn't a pole there, either."

"I definitely don't remember that." Doug blushed. "Of course, hanging out with you might explain a lot of things."

"Like why you dumped me for some bimbo navy pilot in a tight jumpsuit?"

"No, that was my own fault. I was remembering that my seminary term was a bit longer than usual though. Seems they felt I needed a deeper level of education."

Ang snorted, and cursed. She went back to smelling the coffee. Face down, she asked. "Okay, what gives? Do I have to guess or are you actually going to speak to me about something besides ancient history?"

"You stopped by the morgue." He said slowly. "Was it official, or personal?"

Ang looked up, cursed, and gave him a decent understanding of what she thought of him and his questions.

"I'll take that as a yes." Doug said, after she stopped. He sighed, and sipped his coffee.

"Since you still have such warm feelings for me..." Ang snorted. "Would you want to be on the case?"

"My division cheif isn't happy with the last work he assigned me, Doug. Seems he didn't think the perp needed shooting as much as I thought he needed it. I'm probably looking at a two week suspension, minimum. By that time the case will be over and done."

Doug swirled his coffee. "I don't know, Ang." He fell silent for a bit. "Something's not right."

Ang drank slowly, but the mug had quit shaking. "What do you know?" She forced herself to ask.

Doug shook his head. "It's sad, Ang. The girl, Irene? I had been talking to her boyfriend. Seems like he had a ring and was going to pop the question." He looked at her. "It was Marco, Ang. He was going to marry her."

Ang cursed again. Her fingers drummed on the table top. "That's certainly news. And a bad idea."

They sat in silence for a while and the waitress brought them refills.

"Why do you want me on the case?" Ang said. "What's in it for you?"

"The truth, of course. Everyone loved Aldo." Doug looked away.

"Bull. What do you want from me?" Ang leaned forward. "Spill it, or I walk."

Doug faced Ang and gave her a sad smile. "Forgiveness."

She glared. "No."

Doug winced, then nodded. "Sorry. I hoped." He put some credits on the table and stood. "Take care, Ang."

"Get me on the case, Doug." And said as he started to walk away. "Pull your strings."

He nodded, and was gone. Ang reached into her pocket and pulled out her smokes. She lit up and looked at her lighter. It was an old style lighter, a gift from Aldo when she had graduated military school and went to the police academy.

Slowly Ang opened the lighter again. She pulled the still hot ignition out and grunted as the small gold band fell on the table. It smelled of lighter fluid and glistened with moisture. Ang looked at it for a bit and put it back into it's hiding spot. She stuffed those memories back into the dark closet where they belonged.

She had a murderer to find.