Young Writers Society

Part One

***

I didn’t pay much attention to her story. Women like her are used to being in the center of attention, so they always have something to talk about. That normally revolves around money, men or both. She started off by introducing herself as Missus Serena Crane, wife of some gentleman whose name and function sounded imposing and important, but which both slipped my mind as soon as she mentioned them. From there on, I drifted off, alternating between imagining her naked body pole dancing and how she would look like if she were to drop the clichéic red dress she was wearing and put on a business suit. It took a lot of willpower to fight those thoughts off and resurface every now and then, but I managed to do it enough times to make an idea about the whole thing.

Her husband was a man well past his prime and she had agreed to be his trophy wife in exchange for a piece of his fortune. There had been no love between them, nor any promise of it ever entering their life. It was nothing more than a business deal. He would become easier on the eye at the parties he was hosting. She would get the status she had always dreamed about. I should’ve found it suspicious how she kept underlining that there was no love between them, but at the time, I was so boozed out of my mind that I thought she was trying to make another point: that she was not out of my reach.

Their arrangement worked like gangbusters; for the first five years, at least. The problems started to poke their ugly mugs when another woman came in the picture. Apparently, her beloved husband had finally fallen in love. Not only that, but he had started abusing her, so much in fact that she had spent a few nights crashing on her girlfriend’s couch. She removed the scarf from around her neck and showed me what clearly looked like strangling marks. I frowned my eyebrows and dropped a swearing that made Marv turn his head.

“You see, Mister Law, what I really want is simple: what he promised me in the first place. A woman like me has no business being alone and without a penny in a world like this. I just want him to keep his end of the bargain and then let me go.”

Well, that seemed like a fair thing to ask. Did I care about her pain? Not one bit. Did I want to take my ass out of the confy, leather bench from my favorite booth and out in the crosshair of some powerful man I had no idea about? Well, I guess you can answer this last one by yourself.

All I knew was that I had spent hours emptying shot after shot of Jack and not one single time had I hit the john. I politely excused myself and headed for the bathroom.

***

I was going to help her. Sort out her mess and get paid and then start steering my own life into a better direction. Missus Crane had made a pact with the money and I one with the alcohol. It was time both me and her cut our losses and start fresh. I would stop being the rebel and actually show up on time for my shifts. Who knows, after a few months of fetching for the boss, he might even consider moving me to a desk job. I would move papers until retirement came and then rent a small place on the beach where I could die of old age.

It all sounded perfect. Maybe even a bit gay. My stomach protested and I had just enough time to bend over the toilet before I puked my guts out. I flushed and smiled as I watched the rests of my dinner going down the drain. In my mind, all that had been rotten inside of me had just gone down with them.

My first step on the path of salvation was agreeing to help poor Missus Crane. I wiped the vomit from the corners of my mouth and washed my face and went to her. She was more than happy to hear my conclusion and I was more than willing to let her give me a tight hug. Her perky breasts pushed against my chest - good God Almighty, I had no idea You could make them little bastards like this! The road to Heaven is paved with good deeds, but I was still wondering on the one leading towards the opposite pole. Good intentions or not, I was still hoping to get inside her as soon as all of this would come to an end.

I decided that the second step would be not letting yet another soul to die on my watch. Keeping the attitude of a mule, I convinced her to let me walk her to the nearest taxi point. The streets were empty at this hour of the night and the darkness had a knack for snatching young ladies right off the face of the earth. She seemed unwilling to accept but did it anyway. I attributed it to my charms, of course.