Return to Pre-order Page

The Tahiti Lounge Detective

Collected Short Stories

By
Roger Humes

 

Literati Press
Via Giardini 270
41100 Modena Italy
+39 33560107

For all my friends at the Tiki

Chap. 1

It was just another gorgeous day in cyber-space, the kind you could sink your teeth into like a chicken fajita.

I was on the corner playing mumbly-peg with the local minority boys when I felt her voice crawl up my spine with all the subtlety of a velvet sledgehammer.

I turned around and there she stood, the cut of her jib smacking me in the face like a bag of wet spam. She'd be a hard dame to argue with, I thought. Her chest made convincing points, and her agruments would arrive long before she did.

She wore black, a tight calf length number that showed she had more curves than a mountain road. Her dress was tight as the front of my pants when I looked at her. I love a dame in black, but I noticed her eye the bulge in the front of my pants at the same time I saw the bulge in her purse. I decided I better get down to business.

"What can I do for you sister?" I muttered around the coffin nail I was sucking down.

I could see that she didn't care for my choice of words, but she decided to bite that lovely tongue of hers instead.

"I need help," her voice pounded up my spine, "and the word in the rooms is that you're the person to see for help."

"Yes, sister, help is my middle name. Actually, I have no middle name, only an initial..."

I could see that she was getting impatient so I invited her into my "office."

*****

When the powers that be created the cyber-universe there were several unforeseen consequences. One was that when people went into the chat rooms pieces of thoughts and ideas flaked off from their conversations. After awhile these "flakes" started to cohere and to form cyber-beings. The flakes live in the cyber-rooms and for all practical purposes cannot be told apart from the chatters.

I'm one of those flakes. My names is Moonlight, Al_B._Moonlight. I hang out at the Tahiti Lounge, a friendly little backwater dive that can be found a few doors down from ChatControl. I play piano in the lounge and have a detective agency on the side. Actually, I live in the lounge, have a cot behind the bar. There's no other place for me to go.

*****

I opened the door to the Tahiti and let her go in first. A gent always lets a dame go ahead. Not only do you get a better view, if someone shoots you've got a shield.

We were met by the usual din:

It was a typical Tahiti afternoon. Someone had made a swimming pool in the middle of the bar again. Someone else had filled it with jello. And the hormones were so thick you could cut them with a knife.

I directed her to the piano and took a seat. It was time for my afternoon set.

"What's your poison, sweetheart?"

She dug her nails into my arm, asked for a strawberry daiquiri, and hissed she was no one's sweetheart, especially mine. I looked at her with admiring eyes. I like a dame with spunk. I ordered her drink and my usual, a mineral water, neat.

Her perfume was as intoxicating as a good steak on the grill. I tried to slide up to the piano but discovered something blocking my way.

She looked at me with eyes as cold as the daiquiri she poured on my pants and hissed, "Will you get your mind on business? Figure out which head you're going to think with!"

I played "Feelings" while the waiter brought me a towel. I watched her as I played, intrigued by the little drops of sweat on her upper lip and the glare cast generally in my direction. I could love a woman like that, I thought, if she didn't kill me first.

My thoughts tripped over themselves like a drunk stumbling down a sidewalk. There had been a dame like her. We laid on the beach, rolled, kissed, the waves and seaweed splashed over us...I was brought back to reality by the playful jab of her index finger in my right kidney. She looked as mad as a father who caught his daughter in the back seat on prom night.

I had been "clearing my cache" again. One of the problems with being a flake is that you are really a collection of other people's memories. Sometimes it's useful, most times it's just annoying, but occasionally it could be as painful as that nail she must sharpen at least twice a day.

"Are you listening?" she hissed.

"Sure, go ahead, sister."

"Look, read my lips. I am not a dame or your sister or your sweetheart. My name is Daydreak12, got that?"

"Sure, babe."

She shrieked like the last doll who saw me in my thong. She sighed and tried to calm down.

"Okay, Moonlight, here's the deal. A friend of mine was kidnapped outside Rick's Cafe. I want you to find him. You interested?"

"Sure, swe...ah Daybreak. What's the scoop?"

"We stopped by Rick's for a late cup of coffee. When we came out three large men pushed me down, dragged my friend into a waiting red sedan, and sped off past ChatControl. I tried to get the network i.d. off the car, but it was dark and I couldn't see it."

"Any ransom note, calls?"

"No, but one of them did drop this."

She handed me a card. The card had no writing, but the picture on it made my huevos rancheros want to crawl up in my throat. My blood ran as cold as the wet stain on my pants as I looked at the most dreaded sight in cyber-space, the flag of the Bates Boyz. I had encountered that mob before and barely got out with the skin on my teeth. I didn't want to do it again, but, hey, I was always a sucker for a good set of legs.

"What's your friend's handle?"

"Ezyriter8."

"Know what he does outside?"

"I think he's a computer programmer or something."

"Okay, I'll take the case for 50 cyber-bucks plus expenses."

"How will we stay in touch?"

"Just come back to the Tahiti and ask for me. If I'm not here ask for my secretary, Twinkletoes5."

I watched her carry that magnificent carriage out the door. God made some dames for a guy like me just to watch walk. She wasn't one of them, but she sure would do for the moment.

I let the sounds of the lounge engulf me as I planned my next move:

I stood up and cleared out my tip jar. Stuffing the bills in my pocket, I headed out the door. It was time to go to Rick's for a cup of joe.

Chap. 2

Rick's Cafe is located a few doors down from the Tahiti, heading toward the interchange where GenChat links up with the other chat areas. It is a little greasy spoon, where you can still get a steak and eggs breakfast with enough cholesterol to drop an elephant in its tracks, or where a lonely guy can go on a Friday night for a friendly cup of joe.

As I walked down the street, I noticed a couple of the private rooms had been rented. One had a sign that read Hubby_Is_Gone_&_I_Love_Leather, the other Elvis_Has_Entered_The_Building. I made a mental note to check out the second if I had time. As for the first one, I didn't even want to know.

When I got to Rick's I remembered to snub out my coffin nail before I went in. The last time I forgot and Cookie2 almost took off my head with a meat cleaver. I opened the door and the smell of greasy food and the sounds of chat washed over me like a wave of warm urine in a hot bath:

Yes, it was your usual afternoon at Rick's. I noticed Rick himself was working today. I could see from his apron that the special was tuna surprise. I decided I wouldn't eat.

I quietly slid into a booth near the door. I didn't want to deal with Rick. We had a disagreement going over my tab.

CaniHelpYou came up to my table. I could see from her uniform that the special was definitely tuna surprise. I ordered a cup of joe, black. When she brought my coffee she sneezed on the cup. I pushed it away and reached for a glass of water but noticed that the glass had not been recently washed. The lipstick prints on it looked familiar.

Then I heard a voice that made me want to crawl under the table and hide.

"Oh Albie," it grated up my back and hit me in the temples with all the grace of a hatchet, "it's your friend GypsyQueen!"

I could get a pretty good handle on most of the clowns that tread the rooms of this cyburg but had never quite figured out GypsyQueen. Was she some flamboyant doll out looking for a few quick thrills or a pimple faced teenage boy pulling his pud at the computer? On top of that, one night someone had slipped a micky in my mineral water, and I woke up in a locked private room with her. I still had nightmares about it.

"Oh, it's so good to see you Albie! *Kiss, kiss!* When are you coming to my private room again?"

"About the time I really want to enjoy a good case of the bytes. Have you seen Weazelboy around?"

"He's at the end of the counter, but why would you want that twerp when you could have luscious little ol' me?"

I would have told her, but the list was too long. I initialed the bill, left a modest tip, and went over to see Weazelboy. He was my main snitch, one of the best sources of information in cyber-space.

"Hi, Weaz, how's it going?" I asked as I slid onto a stool next to him.

As Weazelboy sat down his fork, I noticed that someone had been playing pattycake with his face. I also noticed that I had sat in something rather sticky. I didn't want to know what it was.

"Hi, Moonlight, what do you want?" his squeaky voice slammed into my already aching brain.

"Heard someone was nabbed by some goons outside here the other night. Know anything about it?"

I slid a cyber-lincoln under Weaz's cup. Usually that made him sit up and sing like a heavy metal rocker on speed, but this time he was scared. He touched the side of his face and looked ready to jump on the next banana boat out of this cyber-joint.

"Hold on Weaz. It looks like someone's fist has been having a discussion with your face. Is it connected with the info I want?"

I slipped my last abe in his hand. Weaz looked about ready to go down like a hooker with round heels. Then I felt a rather beefy hand on my shoulder lifting me about three feet off the filthy floor. It was Rick.

"Hi ya Moonlight. Ya's cum to pay up yer tab?" he asked while cigar foul breath spittled soot into my face.

"Rick, just let me talk to Weaz for a minute, and then we'll discuss my tab."

"You's 'll discuss nutin'!" he said as he frisked my pockets. "An' sintze ya's seems to be short a cash like usual, dere's sum boyz dat want to talk to ya."

I helplessly watched Weazelboy bolt out the front door as Rick threw me out the back. I stood up to dust off my suit and noticed Rejectedisk, one of the Bates Boyz, lumbering in my direction. It looked like the start of a long evening.

He picked me up by the lapels and growled into my face with breath worse than Rick's, "So ya's been askin' questuns, Moonlight. We's dun't like ya's askin' questuns."

As he threw me into some nearby trash cans I wondered why so many cyber-low lifes had to talk with such bad spelling. Rejectedisk tossed me to one of the other thugs who acquainted me to his new set of brass knuckles. That goon then slammed me on the concrete and drop-kicked me to the third. I think you get the idea.

After the first few minutes you lose track of how long or severe a beating gets. You reach a threshold where it even starts to become almost pleasant. But these weren't your normal goons. When I started to lose consciousness they would slap me back around and shove a picture of GypsyQueen in my face. I would scream, and they would continue.

Eventually, they figured they had made their point and tossed me back into the garbage cans. As they walked away I tried to crawl out of the alley but blacked out in a the middle of a pile of dog waste.

I awoke to the sound of a shoe caressing my ribs several times. My eyes started to focus, and I saw the face of the last person I really wanted to see at that moment, besides GypsyQueen.

"Get up, Moonlight! We need to go down to the station for a little talk!" the voice slammed like a jackhammer into my throbbing head.

It was OfficerBob. I laid my head down on the gritty pavement and allowed my aching face to kiss the cool concrete. It was going to be a long evening.

Chap. 3

Looming over the cyber-universe like an Oedipal image in a Freudian dream was ChatControl, the nerve center, the hub, the brains of the brawn that was ChatWorld. From here the powers-that-be controlled the network and monitored the comings and goings of the chatters. Little went on that they were not aware of.

On one side of the gray hulking building, facing the street on the first floor was the GenChat Police Precinct. The front was crowded with cyber-hookers and other various low lifes who had been arrested that night. I was in one of the back offices having my chat with OfficerBob.

Bob and I went back a long ways. We may have been partners, I'm not sure. It was those flake memories again. Possibly, he once saved my life or I saved his. Who knows? Anyway, right now he obviously didn't very much care for me.

"Okay, Moonlight," he growled in a low voice that tore into my pounding head, "I think it's time you spilled the beans."

"I thought that was Rick's job."

"Very funny. Now why were you in that alley with some of the Bates Boyz."

"Just having a...wait a minute, you saw them beating me?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't stop them?"

He grinned and answered, "I have a boring job. I have to get my thrills where I can."

He threw me a towel and went to his desk. He opened a drawer and started to pull out a bottle of whiskey, but, remembering it was me, reached back in and got a bottle of mineral water. I took a long cool swig and felt the water hit my throat like a set of headlights crossing the face of some lonely hitchhiker.

I asked if he had any cyberprofin. He threw me a bottle, and I fumbled with the childproof cap. I finally gave up and tore it off with my teeth. The pills spilled like a choirboy at confession. I managed to save four and downed them quickly.

"So, Moonlight, why were the Bates Boyz rearranging your profile?"

"We were having a discussion about the upcoming cyber-ball tournament. I guess they didn't like the teams I picked."

"Ha! Ha! Moonlight, you're quite the comedian. Could it perhaps have something to do with the disappearance of someone outside Rick's?"

I wasn't surprised that Bob knew about it. There wasn't much that happened in this crummy little cyburg that slipped by him. I didn't know how much he knew and didn't want him to know how little I did, so I poker-faced him and said nothing.

He poured himself a glass of rotgut and moved the light a little closer to me. My eyes were starting to ache like a heartbroken teenage girl who got a "Dear Jane" letter from that special boy after he went away to college. Despite the cyberprofin my head didn't feel much better and my ribs felt like the backside of a football after kickoff.

"I don't like you, Moonlight," he growled. "You know why?"

"Perhaps a difference in our personal philosophies of life?"

"Oh, you're busting my gut, Moonlight...How about if I bust your chops?"

He placed a fist about the size of my head in front of my face. At that moment I really didn't care. After the professional job Rejectedisk and his friends did on me there wasn't much left to hurt.

Bob must have realized that because he walked away from me, stared out the window, and sipped his drink. The only sounds I could hear were my breathing, his slurping, and a few random screams from some suspects being questioned down the hall.

When he talked again he voice was quieter.

"No, Moonlight, I don't like you. You're scum. No, you're worse than scum. Scum are scum but scum like you who turned your back on the badge and walked away to play piano in a two bit dive and stick your nose into other people's business for money, well you're just scummier than the rest of the scum.

"I'm going to do you a favor tonight, Moonlight. I don't know why. Maybe it was the talk I had with GypsyQueen while you were 'asleep.' But here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to keep looking out this window. When I turn around your scrawny carcass better be out of my office and out of my life. I don't want to hear from you, I don't want to know you exist.

"And if you come near this case I'll have you locked up faster than ex-lax running after buttermilk. You understand? Now get outta here!"

I limped my aching body to the door. I turned to say something but thought better of it and walked out.

As I closed the door, I heard Bob say, half to himself, "Good luck, buddy. You're gonna need it on this one. We're all gonna need it on this one..."

It was time to go back to the Tahiti and see if TwinkleToes had any messages for me.

Chap. 4

When I got outside, I quickly lit up a coffin nail and inhaled the raspy smoke deep into my lungs. I leaned against a lamp post coughing like a consumptive old fool. My eyes filled with tears, my body trembled in agony from the inhalation. God, it felt good. Since they put up "No Smoking" signs in every building in this section, a guy like me had to go outside often or risk going into the shakes.

I limped my aching body back toward the Tahiti. This had not been one of my better days. I wondered how the Bates Boyz had found out so quickly I was on the case. I also contemplated Bob's threat. He could squash me like a bug, and I knew it. Still, there was the money and that dame, especially the dame. She had gotten underneath my skin like a fungus. I decided to continue the investigation.

I snubbed out my coffin nail and opened the door to the lounge:

I could see the kids were still having a good time. I carried my body over to the piano and thumped down like a load of wet socks. My head beat like the Rice University Marching Band playing "Louie Louie" and my hands felt about as useful as one of those infomercials for a psychic loveline.

I was about ready to nod off when I heard a concerned voice from behind me say, "Oh Al, what happened to you this time?"

It was TwinkleToes5, my secretary. She was a good kid from the outside. She had her own business out there, but I could never remember what it was. She came in here every day to handle my paper work, pay my bills, patch me up, and talk over a friendly cup of joe. She wouldn't take money for doing it, which is good because I usually didn't have any.

"Just a little disagreement with some goons over how I'm handling a case, Twink," I winced in her general direction as she ran to the restroom for some towels to clean me up.

"Oh Al," she said as she wiped my face with a cool wet cloth, "will you ever learn?"

"I guess not Twink. It's not in my nature, and I need the money."

I leaned back and closed my eyes. The towel felt as good as the scent of the perfume on her soft hands. Twink was attractive, a real knockout, but whatever would she want with a flake like me, I thought. She had a life, a real life. All I was was a bunch of random thoughts flying around a computer network.

I opened my eyes and watched her work. There was a real look of concern on her face. Our eyes met like some scene out of a Serge Leone movie. I was captivated, transfixed by the those bright orbs that smiled with care. If she ever made a move, I thought, I'd have about as much chance as Bambi's mother.

The mood was broken by someone requesting that I play "Misty." I turned around and started to plunk the ivories while Twink walked back to the restroom to rinse out the towel and a few of my things. My hands ached about as bad as my head, but somehow I made it through the song. As long as no one requested a polka I'd be okay.

"So what's the case?" she asked when she returned.

"Some dame had a friend lifted outside Rick's. I thought he probably just changed names to ditch her, but, hey, she was willing to cough up 50 for me to look. But then the Bates Boyz got involved..."

"The Bates Boyz! Oh Al, they almost killed you last time! Were they the ones who worked you over?"

"Yeah, they played me like a hockey puck in the alley behind Rick's. Then I had a discussion with OfficerBob..."

"OfficerBob! Oh Al, you two fight all the time. I just wish you could get along like in the old days."

I shrugged my shoulders and said nothing. To me water under the bridge is better than three in a basket. Besides, I had no idea what she was talking about. Damn flake memories, anyway.

"So what did Bob say?"

"He told me to get lost, take a hike, catch a trolley to nowheresville."

"So are you going to drop the case?"

"Fat chance, Twink."

"Because you want the money..."

"Guy's gotta eat."

"And you're attracted to her..."

"Do wild popes shit in the forest?"

"Oh Al..."

She turned and started to straighten up the table next to the piano. I thought that I detected a quiver in her voice and a tear in her eye but decided it was probably my imagination or dust in the room. So I sat still and watched. She was one fine sight to see from behind.

I broke the silence by asking, "Any messages Twink?"

"Well, GypsyQueen stopped by to see how you were doing."

"I asked if there were any messages."

"Oh, yes, this call came in about a half hour ago."

She handed me a slip of paper. When her hand touched me it sent a shot of static electricity up my arm that I felt all the way to the inside of my boxers. I jumped like a felon when the padre comes into his cell right before the execution. For a second I sat there transfixed by the glow of the lights on her long red nails. Then I shook my head and turned to the note:

Moonlight,

We must have a conference. Will be at the MeetMarket in LoveChat.

D. Break

I wasn't excited by the prospect. I didn't really care to leave GenChat, especially for some low life dive like the MeetMarket. And I didn't like the idea of going to LoveChat. The last time I was there I had to beat off the advances like a spendthrift with new credit card. Still, I had taken the job, and I couldn't get that magnificent carriage out of mind.

"Twink, lend me a cyber-jackson. I've got to go to the MeetMarket."

"Oh Al..."

Chap. 5

I straightened my tie as I got off the trolley outside the MeetMarket. It was a hot day, and I felt like a Bedouin on the wrong of the dune at noon. My shirt was soaked and sweat streamed down my face like Niagara Falls. I looked picture perfect for a trip to the LoveChat section.

Like I said, I didn't enjoy coming to this part of cyber-space. I had just arrived and already the cyber-hookers were crawling over me like flies on a meat wagon. Every two-bit thug and college girl out on the make was eyeing me for the special signal that meant I might be interested, a live pulse.

I lit up a coffin nail and delighted in the sensation tickling down my lungs like I the dreams I had of Daybreak's hands entering certain parts of my clothing. I opened the door and entered the Babylon that was the MeetMarket:

Yes, this was a delightful place. It made the Tahiti look like a convent. I held my hand over my wallet and looked for a table where I could wait for Daybreak. Ashes fell from my coffin nail onto the front of my shirt and mixed with the sweat. I refused to take off my hat because my hair was plastered to my head.

About the time I found a table Daybreak walked in the door. She was wearing a black leather mini-skirt that highlighted her walk and a white satin blouse that again emphasized the argument that would long reach you before she did. Her black stiletto heels raised her architecture to a pleasing level.

I pushed out a chair for her and ordered her a drink. As she sat down she sighed, reached over, and wiped the spittle from my chin. She shook that lovely head and reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper.

"If you could get you mind back on the case," she said, "you might want to see this."

The room was filled with smoke and was about as well lit as a bordello. I squinted to read the note:

If you ever wish to see your friend again, back your trick dog off the case. We will contact you when you need to know more. Until then cease and desist all searches. This means you, Moonlight, you piece of cat waste.

Best regards,

the Bates Boyz

While I was reading some scuzball named ArealStud came up to the table and started to hit on Daybreak. I wondered how she would handle it. After all, her packaging read "too hot to handle." Now, I thought, we'll see how she does when her iron is in the fire.

Her new "friend" was a real winner. His i.q. matched the angle of the slope of his forehead, and he probably had to clean his fingernails after he went for a walk. He had all of the charm and poise of a guy in a white sheet at an African Baptist church service.

Daybreak listened to his prattle, obviously amused. She asked him to hold out his hand. She took the cherry from her drink, put it in her mouth, and swished it around for a few seconds. She spit the stem into his hand. It was tied in a knot.

She gave him a wicked grin, turned to me, and said, "Shall we go private, lover?"

As I pulled my jaw off the floor and put my imagination back in my wallet, she pulled me into a private room and secured the door. Moxie, I thought, I love a dame with moxie.

*****

When the door was secured she pushed me down in a chair. I noticed that the pointed toe of one of her shoes was resting a few inches away from my rancheros.

"Just so you don't get any ideas, Moonlight," she hissed in that voice that thrilled me to the bottom of my spine, "or you'll be hitting E over high C. I just wanted to mess with that boy's head little. Either one of them."

She laughed and swayed her way across the room. Her arguments continued to hold my attention and the mini-skirt left little to the imagination. Her scent was one that would make even an old dog sit up and do new tricks. I didn't know if I was in love, but if not it was the next best thing.

"Well, Moonlight, what about that note?" she asked while touching up her makeup.

"It's a sham, a ruse, a dog and pony show for the kids at the orphanage."

"What do you mean?"

"Look they obviously need your friend for something, or we'd have a ransom demand by now. And they're not done with him, or they would have wiped his hard disk and dropped him off somewhere like Our Lady of Continuing Repentance in ReligChat, or..."

"Or what?"

"The fuzz would have found him in a body bag tucked neatly in some corner of some hell hole like this. The Bates Boyz are tidy you know."

She looked as upset as a girl who just received her first visit from her special monthly friend. I felt sorry for Daybreak. She was acting tough, but I knew she was just a scared kid in a league way over her head. I wasn't sure if I was ready for the starting rotation in this one either. The silence was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.

I reached in my pocket and pulled out my pack of coffin nails. There was one left. I lit it and sucked down the smoke from the burning dead leaves. I wadded up the empty pack and threw it on the floor. Daybreak gave me a disgusted look, picked up the pack, and put it in the trash. She stared out the window, lost in her thoughts.

"Don't worry," I said quietly between puffs, "we'll find your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend, Moonlight. Just a good friend. What do you plan to do now?"

"Go back to GenChat and start checking out my sources. I started earlier but got distracted."

"Yes, I noticed someone's fist had a discussion with your face. Was it the Bates Boyz?"

"Who else, doll?"

"Don't call me...never mind. I knew you were a jerk when I hired you."

She walked across the room to where I sat. She reached down, took my face in her hands, and planted a kiss the size of Georgia on my mouth. Those lips were every bit as luscious as I'd dreamed they would be. The sensation leapt down my body and landed somewhere behind my zipper. If I never had to breathe again I would be happy.

As I wiped the lipstick off my face I asked, "What was that for?"

"I was curious and wanted to see if I'd like it."

"Did you?"

She smiled and turned to the door. As I watched that magnificent carriage glide across the floor, I guessed that was all the answer I was going to get. I sighed, snubbed out my coffin nail, and braced myself to return to the Sodom and Gomorrah outside the door.

*****

As I walked back into the MeetMarket I felt a familiar hand about the size of a large ham on my shoulder. I noticed my feet were no longer on the floor. Here we go again, I thought.

"Tsk, tsk, Moonlight. I's tought I's told ya to's takes a powder," Rejectedisk slurred at me.

As I broke free I wondered why his gang couldn't afford to buy him a spellchecker or at least some decent mouthwash. I looked at Daybreak. She was as scared as a rabbit on the wrong end of a shotgun. I knew I didn't have much of a chance against this gorilla, but I had to try something before he turned me into a can of spam.

"Look!" I shouted and pointed behind him. "It's Elvis!"

The goon turned his back to me, vainly looking for the king of rock an' roll. It seemed almost too easy, like taking candy from an ape. I picked up a chair and smashed it over his head. The results were not what I expected. Instead of crumbling to the floor, Rejectedisk was only reminded of my presence and why he was there. He turned and picked me up by the throat.

Daybreak leapt to my rescue and planted swift kick to his groin. However, it only excited him. The grip on my throat tightened. I saw my life start to flash in front of my eyes. One memory in particular stood out. There was a man in black. I lay on the floor in front of him, clutching my right wrist. He was telling me that he was my father...No wait, it was another flake memory...Damn!....

As the last of my breath started to leave my body I saw a high heeled boot give the goon a love tap along side his right temple. He went down like a politician picking a bribe up off the floor. He let go of my throat as he fell. I landed like a pair of dirty sneakers and started to black out. As the room grew dim I could hear a few well placed kicks find Rejectedisk's ribs.

The last thing I saw was Daybreak leaning over me. I reached up and touched her face. Then I was out like a batter called for the third strike.

Chap. 6

I started to come back around. Everything was still dark and felt velvety like the painting of the fours dogs playing poker that was hung behind the bar in the Tahiti. I could hear Daybreak and Twink whispering. It felt good. I didn't want to wake up because I knew how much pain I would feel when I did.

Finally, I decided that I had to face the music and pay the piper. I slowly opened my eyes expecting to see either Twink's concerned face or Daybreak's arguments. Instead I saw something that hit me like a bucket of cold water in the kisser.

"Oh, Albie, honey, we were so worried about you," GypsyQueen whispered while she wiped my face with a damp cloth.

I screamed like my rancheros were caught in a vice. I sat up quickly to try to get away from her. It was a mistake. My scream echoed like a bass drum in my head, and I could feel every ache in my body. Rejectedisk was definitely a professional. Even my fillings hurt. I couldn't blink or breathe without wincing. If it wasn't for Daybreak I would have dropped the case like a ton of hot bricks. Even so, I wondered if I could at least increase my retainer.

"Oh Al," Twink said as she took the cloth from GypsyQueen, "what are we ever going to do with you?"

I looked at Daybreak and had a few ideas but decided that desecration was the better part of valor. Then I saw the concern in Twink's eyes and felt time slip away. The pain was gone for a moment, and I felt like a rabbit at the wrong end of the tunnel when the hounds start to dig. Why did she waste her time with a joe like me? I had no answer for that one.

The mood was broken when Daybreak crowded that magnificent carriage into my view. That woman had a body like a ton of bricks on a handcart to hell. I picked my breath up off the floor. Twink turned away and started to straighten up some papers on the table. I thought her hands trembled, but it was probably my imagination.

I asked for some cyberprofin and a mineral water. Then I lit a coffin nail and let the smoke surround me with the addictive glow I had come to love. As I started to get my bearings I noticed GypsyQueen was still there. That woman made my skin crawl. I would rather scrape barnacles on a slow boat to China than be in a room with her.

"What's she doing here?" I asked as my head throbbed like a teenage heart in love.

"Calm down, Moonlight," Daybreak said, "she saved your life."

"Huh?"

"Listen, you were about ready to go down for the third time for the count of ten when she came flying out of nowhere. She worked that hoodlum over like there was no tomorrow, which he probably wishes there wasn't at the moment."

"Gypsy did that?"

"Sure Albie. I'd help you out anytime, sweetie." she said as she put on her stole and swished her way out of the Tahiti. "There's more here than meets the eye, hon. Ta-ta."

I had to admit that GypsyQueen was not a bad looking woman. Especially from behind she could make a man sit up and point. But I knew what went on in that mind, and it scared me like a bad Halloween costume. And now I owed her my life.

I laid back down. I didn't want to think about it . The room grew dark, and I started to drift like a divorced man dodging the next alimony payment.

I heard Twink say, "Oh Al!"

Everything went black.

*****

When I came around again it was late. The Tahiti had cleared out except for a few teens playing cyber-sex charades and Kration watching a replay of the Lakers's game. I looked at the clock, it said 8:30. That meant nothing. The clock always said 8:30. It was just another one of those things about this place.

I sat up. Outside of the fact my throat felt like I had the mother of all cases of strep, I didn't feel that bad considering I had been attacked twice that day. I limped over to the table and picked up my pack of coffin nails, lit one, and deeply inhaled the noxious fumes.

Daybreak was gone. Twink was still there, asleep in a chair. There was a tiny bit of saliva on the right corner of her mouth. I wiped it off and covered her with my jacket. She snuggled against it, smiled, and continued her journey on the slumberland express.

I went behind the bar and got out a mineral water, popped the cap, leaned against the bar, and sipped my drink slowly. I needed to plan my next move carefully. Many more of those beatings and I would have had about as much chance of surviving as a turkey in November. I felt my head. There were enough new lumps to keep a numerologist busy until next Tuesday.

I went over and sat with Kration but didn't pay attention to the game. My mind was racing like a good case of Montezuma's revenge. What was it that the Bates Boyz were doing? Why were they so concerned about me prying around with my nose in the corner. Why was Bob so spooked over this case? Where did Gypsy fit into the picture? What enticing outfit would Daybreak wear next time? I had more questions than my father when I brought home my report card.

I stood up and walked to the window. GenChat looked about as deserted this time of day as the volunteer list for cleaning the head. Suddenly, I noticed WeazelBoy scurrying along the streets. He furtively glanced back every few feet. I decided it was time for us to finish our conversation.

As I stepped out the door a red sedan screamed around the corner. Weaz froze and looked like he could use a new pair of pants. I dove behind a conveniently parked vehicle as a machine gun sprayed the sidewalk like my Aunt Millie watered her peonies. Weazelboy collapsed, and the car sped off.

I ran to his side. Weaz was a goner. There was about as much chance of saving him as there was for a prom queen to get her virginity back. I knelt down, and he grabbed the front of my shirt with his bloody hands. Damn, I thought, and I only had two good ones as it was.

"M-m-m-moonlight, I'm a goner" he groaned.

I held back any comments about him stating the obvious and listened. His voice skipped like a broken record, but I was able to follow what he said.

"L-l-l-isten. Your case is big. B-b-b-bates is up to somethi-i-i-ng. H-h-e w-w-ants out..."

"Out, Weaz, I don't understand."

"N-n-n-o time. Hid-d-d-deout-t-t in SocialChat. F-f-f-find him-m-m-m. M-m-must be stopped...before...before...h-h-h-he j..."

WeazelBoy never got to finish his sentence. He had bought a ticket on the trolley to the big chatroom in the sky. I sighed. I kind of liked the kid. He was slime, a snitch, would have sold his mother for a bottle of cheap scotch, but still he had a heart of gold. And he was my main source for what was up on the streets.

I thought about calling the cops but didn't want to deal with Bob. They would find out soon enough. Instead I went in and fished a few cyber-bills out of Twink's purse. It was time to pay a visit to the SocialChat.

To be continued in Literati Short Story Collection…

Return to Pre-order Page