What I Almost Wrote About

Hey,

A little Frank Sinatra before bed.

I saved myself tonight, not from death but from losses of friends and such like that. I nearly wrote about one of my “romantic adventures” I have once been involved in.

I have a draft written so if in the morning, after my “tired drunk” has worn off, if I find it necessary I might post it.

Just know I am not writing this just to tease you, I also wanted to let my mind explore before bed. So I’m going to let the music and the time period let my mind wander into a short story.

Here goes nothing.

It was raining, as in most noirs, I knew I couldn’t escape it either. So I adjusted my fedora and went on my way. Where? you might ask, well to the bar, back to where it all began. As I walked through the rain I started piecing things back together. I fought my way out of there last night, the thief got away and I was stuck knowing I broke some girl’s heart. 

— 

I had just shut my briefcase for the night and put the case out of my mind. Thieves and Nazis and spies, I needed a drink. I went to my pal Johnny’s joint. The place was hopping for a Thursday. I headed in and went to my usual spot at the bar and he filled my drink stronger than usual, he can tell when I’ve had a day. Known him most my life.

My head still swirling I walked past the broken window that fell from upstairs. I knew I had something to do with that. But what?

— 

I’m nearing the dregs of the drink when another one is thrust in front of me. But on the toothpick there’s a note. I look at Johnny and he points out a tan woman at the bar’s end. I look down at the note. ‘I can help with what’s in the briefcase.’ I glance up and she’s in the seat next to me.

— 

I walk in the bar and there are bullet casings everywhere. Johnny stars yelling drunken nonsense at me with a broom in one hand and the empty bottle in the other. 

— 

She tells me everything about my case, the stolen jewels from the Nazis, the Russian spies who want the jewel as well, and how she is wearing the jewel herself. She tells me her people are watching out for her tonight, and are all armed so my case is as much as closed. I have to make a move. I tell her she’s got the wrong guy and that I should buy her the drink.

— 

I sidestep a few bodies and wrestle the bottle out of Johnny’s hand. I see the body I was least looking forward to seeing. 

— 

As I work the charm that the LA women fall for, my rookie partner shows up. He begins whiskey-whispering to me (regular voice) that it is going down here, tonight. The woman then makes deadly eye contact with me and she begins toward the stairs. I grab her hand softly and follow her up there.

— 

My partner’s eyes were still open and I gently closed them. I took his badge and put it in my breast pocket. I took his wallet and the money went into mine. 

— 

As I have a hold of her hand I glance back and see my partner hit the floor. Johnny swings his shotgun over and blasts the guy who stabbed him. He then ducks under the bar and disappears. The next thing I heard was a machine gun begin to go off. The woman grabbed me and pulled my up the rest of the stairs.

— 

I look at Johnny and he shakes his head and looks upstairs. 

While we’re up stairs the woman tells me she was hired by an outside agency to finish the job, her only pay was the jewel both sides wanted. I am in utter disbelief and am suddenly attracted to her. I pull her in and kiss her, and before any more could happen, Russian red comes flying through the door. I shove the woman out of the way, but into a bullet. I duck under a couch and wait for the fire to cease. It’s not coming at me anymore. I peak out to see a standoff between the Russians and Nazis.

— 

I see the Nazi armbands littering the upstairs. 

The next few moments were all a blur. I grabbed a Russian, threw him out the window, and fired his gun at the rest of the crew in the room and coming up the stairs. I finished them off, Russians and Nazis. Jeaprodizing my case completely, I burned my briefcase and took off into the night with Johnny’s top shelf liquor. I had the bottle and cradled it until my fingers let it slip out and break on the floor of my apartment. Just letting myself fade to black out that night.

— 

I looked at the woman in her beauty and saw her bullet wound. Just over the left side of her chest, I was responsible for her broken heart. 

-Lomonte

+ Okay, I get it, weird, yes.  Short, debatable. Interesting, I thought so. Ironic, sure.

+ I ended it abruptly because its like 2 AM!

+ If you really have questions, feel free to comment.

 

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