She had skills.
I’ll give her that. She strolled in there as if she knew the future, as if she had information that neither these three horny saps nor I was privy. It smelled of socks and mildew. As promised, the big one began unfolding cases filled with DJ equipment and her saccharine smile went to chiseling his defenses. The other two seemed to engage a strange ritual movement about the joint. I figured it for nervous energy. There were other girls en route after all. One of them tossed me a beer and I found a blank space to lean against the wall. She winked at me and ran her hand up the big guy’s neck. Yer a weirdo, dude! she yelled at me. The other three gave me a glance. What’s weird about me? I asked her just as the equipment cranked through the huge speakers. What? she yelled. I said--! Oh nevermind! and she shined me off for the spiraling turntable and flashing monitor, leaving me somewhat diminished from their point of view. She had skills. And when the limo arrived and the big metal door swung open again and the murder of dark hair and black dresses flooded the room as if it had splashed from an overturned barrel, she made her move and whispered in the big one’s ear then disappeared into the rear of the room where she would enter the restroom, open the linen closet and kick her way through the sheetrock into the hidden walk space where the molly sat in vacuum sealed bundles stashed in black garbage bags which she would then shove effortlessly out the rear window after cutting the screen with her tiny cleaver. I had no problem slipping out to meet the bags behind the building. None of them noticed my escape against the flow of other girls and chaperones. She definitely had skills. I might have fallen in love with her then. That’s probably when it happened. I can remember her coming out the window feet first and hissing at me about time. Yeah, that’s when it happened.
Chrysalis, a growing collection of very short fiction.
Unless noted, all pics credited to Skitz O'Fuel.