“Earn or burn,” Franky told her. That was all
the compassion she would see from him. She suspected that he didn’t even know
her name.
Greta stood under the rain-soaked awning hoping
a man would take her off the streets and bring her somewhere for the whole
night. She was on the look-out for one of her regulars, hoping that one of the
nice men would find her and get her out of the weather.
There
was a lot of business on the street, even with the downpour, but nothing had
been coming her way; she didn’t have the hustle in her that night.
Greta
took a spot around the corner from Franky’s Bar, a place where he wouldn’t be
able to see her from where he sat, not that it mattered because the beat cops
were patrolling, and they would keep the girls active as they were paid to do; they
would do anything short of beating a girl with a night-stick if she wasn’t on
her mark turning tricks…or trying at least.
She
had her eye on a young, good-looking fellow standing by the newsstand. He was
tall and had a nice face, though his shoes were a tattered and his coat was
somewhat threadbare. Whoever he was, he wasn’t paying attention to Greta at all;
his eyes were glued to the opposite side of the street, like he was waiting for
something to happen.
Greta
followed him with her eyes as he walked from the newsstand to the drug store
where he bought a bottle of brown liquor, then he stood in the doorway and
continued his watch.
He
had some money in his pocket, Greta thought. That was a good sign, it
encouraged her to approach him, to show that she was making an effort.
She
was tired of being ignored. She began walking toward him when suddenly there was a commotion across Lake
street in front of the Round-Up Saloon..
A giant of a man had been thrown out onto the
curb.
Greta didn’t know who he was but she recognized
him; she had seen him once with Franky and she knew that Franky was afraid of
him, and if Franky was scared of him then he was someone to be feared by
anyone, Greta thought.
The scene in front of the Round-Up had the complete
attention of the nice looking man. He was watching closely, and so was Greta as
the barback from the Round-up came out with the giant man’s hat in his hand,
and something else…a piece of paper, maybe his tab she thought.
Then there was a powerful stroke of lightning,
a bright-white flash that hurt her eyes, and the thunder that followed rattled
every window on the street.
Greta stumbled, and when she recovered from
the crack-and-boom of the lightning bolt everything and everyone around her was
in motion.
The giant was running down the strip with her
mark in swift pursuit him, and two beat cops were fast on their heels.
“Fuck!” Greta cursed out loud.
She knew enough to know that there was going
to be trouble; and she thought about using the confusion as cover to get out of
the rain and go back to her room.
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