Saturday Night and the Moon is Full pt2
She opened her mouth to speak, closed it quickly and turned her head just slightly to the right. Her eyes narrowed slightly and fixed on mine like she was counting. Had she said too much? She took a sharp breath, looked reflexively to both sides without moving her head, then back at me.
"It's my brother." She paused eyes filling with tears. She reached a delicate gloved hand inside the curve of her dress above her heart, pulled a secreted lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. For a minute I was distracted by circle of rocks she had around her wrist. It shined like Lake Okachobee on a sunny Sunday against the blue satin of the gloves that stretched to her elbow. If it wasn't fake, it was worth enough to set me up for a good long time. It seemed a bit much for a Saturday night.
I stood, moved around to her and sat awkwardly on the desk to her right facing her. I stretched a hand to her shoulder. She started at my touch and looked up, eyes like wells runnin over. Desperate and vulnerable like this she was indescribable. It was all I could do think straight.
"I'm...I'm sorry Mr. Cane" she sobbed.
I was standin on the edge of a very big cliff, but I didn't seem to care. This dame was trouble with a capital T.
"It's alright miss. Take your time."
I stalked back and sank heavily into my chair. I grabbed the hiball and slammed back a draught. I closed my eyes and felt it burn all the way down. When I opened them again she was looking alternately at me and the still upraised glass.
"Sorry, can I get you one?"
She nodded like a child wanting a sucker.
I slipped to the sideboard, picked up my other glass, looked through it to the light, gave it a quick wipe, returned to the desk and poured a finger for her and two for me. As I handed the glass to her her hand brushed mine. I looked up suddenly and straight into her weepy eyes. A thrill, like a jellyfish sting shot from my hand to places I'd forgotten were useful. She retracted her hand like she'd touched a spider and looked quickly to her lap. I set the glass in front of her with a click and moved back to my chair. I felt like I was treadin water in the pool on the Titanic. I took another hit, and growled,
"I'm a busy man miss. What's this all about?"
Editor's Note: "Isn't anybody going to help that poor man?" Y'all know the game. Jump in any time.
"It's my brother." She paused eyes filling with tears. She reached a delicate gloved hand inside the curve of her dress above her heart, pulled a secreted lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. For a minute I was distracted by circle of rocks she had around her wrist. It shined like Lake Okachobee on a sunny Sunday against the blue satin of the gloves that stretched to her elbow. If it wasn't fake, it was worth enough to set me up for a good long time. It seemed a bit much for a Saturday night.
I stood, moved around to her and sat awkwardly on the desk to her right facing her. I stretched a hand to her shoulder. She started at my touch and looked up, eyes like wells runnin over. Desperate and vulnerable like this she was indescribable. It was all I could do think straight.
"I'm...I'm sorry Mr. Cane" she sobbed.
I was standin on the edge of a very big cliff, but I didn't seem to care. This dame was trouble with a capital T.
"It's alright miss. Take your time."
I stalked back and sank heavily into my chair. I grabbed the hiball and slammed back a draught. I closed my eyes and felt it burn all the way down. When I opened them again she was looking alternately at me and the still upraised glass.
"Sorry, can I get you one?"
She nodded like a child wanting a sucker.
I slipped to the sideboard, picked up my other glass, looked through it to the light, gave it a quick wipe, returned to the desk and poured a finger for her and two for me. As I handed the glass to her her hand brushed mine. I looked up suddenly and straight into her weepy eyes. A thrill, like a jellyfish sting shot from my hand to places I'd forgotten were useful. She retracted her hand like she'd touched a spider and looked quickly to her lap. I set the glass in front of her with a click and moved back to my chair. I felt like I was treadin water in the pool on the Titanic. I took another hit, and growled,
"I'm a busy man miss. What's this all about?"
Editor's Note: "Isn't anybody going to help that poor man?" Y'all know the game. Jump in any time.
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