It was a hot day. Normally I don't mind hot days.
This one saw me sitting in my cramped office, electric fan whirring in the corner like a demented stationary fly, as I tried my damnedest to figure out how to tell this chick her husband was cheating on her with the same pool boy she was cheating on him with.
Then, my door opened.
A cheap piece of crap, I'd almost taken it off it's hinges when I'd moved into this shithole, but I'd left it up because taking it down would have made me look less professional.
As a female private dick, I need all the help I can get.
The door is being held by this dame. Not just a regular dame. A classy dame. The kind that makes you sit up straighter and try to remember if your lunch was messy enough to splash on the shirt you've been wearing for two days straight.
Her hair was the kind of thick red that made your hands itch to bury in their curls, inhaling their smell like it was a fine perfume. Well, my hands, anyway. Then I saw her eyes. The deepest kinda green, drawing a person's soul from them with a wink and a kiss from those pouty red lips.
I cleared my throat and stood, sweat making my shirt stick to my back.
“Mornin', Ma'am. How can I help you?” I've been told my attempts at a Southern drawl are charming.
“You're the private eye?”
She sounded like the next words outta my mouth should be something like ‘Nah, he's on lunch.’ Screw that, I may have bills to pay, but I've still got my pride.
“You got a problem with that, Princess?” When I was in the WAC, my sergeant told me that the best way to get a woman riled up was to challenge her femininity. Then she bent me over her desk and made me scream like a little girl.
What? I'm a private dick. Refinement ain't part of the deal.
“Whatever. Look, my business partner's gone missing and I hear you can help me.”
I lean back on my heels at that. Ain't no one what speaks my praises.
“Who's been filling them pretty ears with these stories?” I grin lopsidedly at her. Hopefully it's cute and not demented like my last skirt said it was.
She rolled her eyes at me and leaned onto my desk, propping herself up with one well manicured hand. Damn, them nails would be murder on my back.
“You gonna help me or not, dame?”
Narrowed eyes tell her I've taken her damn bait. “Fine, Princess. A dime up front, full quarter on package delivery.”
“You do have an inflated sense of entitlement. D did try to warn me about that.” Sighing, she stood, flicking the brim of my fedora back with one red tipped finger.
There was something about this dame that was getting to me in all the ways a skirt does. It was gonna drive me nuts.
“I thought I told him he wasn't allowed to talk about me anymore.”
She laughed, her eyes sweeping my shabby office. “With such luxurious digs, I can understand why.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I scrawled down my bank name and address on the back of my business card. “Ask for Merle. He'll know what to do.”
“You'll do it then?”
“Soon as I hear my money's in place, I'll start on finding lover boy.”
“He's not my lover.”
My grin is slow and wicked as the thoughts running through my head. “Good to know.”
Within an hour, I get the call from Merle telling me the dame's on the ball and I can afford electricity again this month. She's back with me almost before I can hang up the phone.
Dames love me.
“Satisfied?”
“I'd be better if I'd had a long night, but I suppose the money'll do.” Does she dig my jive? From the pink of her cheeks, she knows just what I'm about.
This skirt's too damn easy.
“Sounds like you still need some practice. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it eventually.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, and I can't find my words for a moment, struck dumb as a post.
So much for easy.
“Ron, my business partner, went missing last night. We were supposed to meet at his favorite juke joint for the ambiance.” The wry grin she's shooting me tells me they hadn't been interested in no ambiance. They'd wanted devil juice, pure'n simple.
“He never showed?”
“Not a hair. If he'd been delayed, he'd send a messenger like the last time when he was cornered in the monkey cage in the zoo.”
“Monkeys?”
“Put the fear of God in him. He couldn't leave the house for a week, he got shook up so bad.”
“Ah. So you were left with…ambiance.”
“I didn't even get that, it was his night to pay.”
“Skipping out on the bill?”
“Kidnapped.”
“What makes you so sure, Princess?” She's ignoring my bored condescension.
“This.” She pulls this paper from her purse, and I stare at it like it's in Greek or some shit. “It's in Greek. It's a blueprint of the Middleton Falcon.”
“That thing up in the museum? Older'n dirt, got some sorta curse on it?” Surprise, I read the newspaper, Princess.
“Yes.”
“And that's why lover boy was taken?”
“He's not my lover, and yes. We'd just finished decoding the blueprints and were supposed to meet for a celebration.”
I opened my mouth to snark on their celebration, but before I could say shit, something crashed through my window.
“Son of a bitch! Sorry.” Those damn etiquette lessons Mama had insisted on chose the damnedest moments to pop up.
She stalked over to the lump on the floor that had careened through my damn window. I was gonna have to pay for that, goddammit.
She picked up the package and untied the paper that was wrapped around it.
“Your prescence is requested, blah, blah…they're at the docks.”
I stood, extending out my hand for the paper. With a raised eyebrow, she handed it to me and I skimmed it.
“It's in French,” she offered unhelpfully.
I snapped at her, my irritation itching me like a rash. “I figured it wasn't Chinese.” She lifted one succulent shoulder in a shrug and I sighed. “Right. Lead the way.”
Her leading the way ended up being her directing my every move, down to taking off my coat before sliding into my own damn car, then giving me directions by pointing at the turn as we drove by it.
By the sixth u-turn in midtown traffic, I was about ready to kill someone. My WAC sergeant always said that when you got really angry, you should suck on lemon.
My WAC sergeant was a very strange lady. She did give great head, though.
It took a few more u-turns, but I managed to get us to the docks in one piece. She slid from the car before I could go around and open the door for her. Frowning, I slammed my door shut. There went the “charm her with manners” idea.
Those legs that made me wish to have them wrapped around my head tapped a foot impatiently as she waited next to the door. I grabbed her by the arm and tugged her against my side.
“Stay behind me and stick close. We don't know what they're doing to lover boy.”
“He's not my lover!”
Her hand slid over my hip and I damn near swallowed my tongue. Clearing my throat, I grasped her hand and pulled my pistol free with the other.
“Right, then. Let's go.”
Creeping through the warehouse, we didn't see anything until we circled around one of the hundreds of stacks of crates. There, handcuffed to a chair, was her little buddy boy, head hanging down. The glint of his blonde hair was unmistakable.
“MWAHAHAHAHAH! So glad you could join us!” My head and gun snapped around to the voice, which ended up belonging to an average looking guy. Average meaning, scarred, hunched and blue. I blinked at him for a moment, something about him looking familiar.
“Who the hell are you?”
“You don't recognize me? I'm going to RULE THE WORLD!”
I snorted, my gun pointed directly at his chest. From this range, I didn't trust a head shot. “You and what army, buddy?”
“The Middleton Falcon will give me my heart's desire! Soon, the entire world will know the name of-”
The loudest damn clang I've ever heard came from his head as my dame whacked him upside the head with a bucket. She watched him crumple to the ground and looked back up at me.
“Do any of us really want to hear another madman speech? After talking to your friend D, I've heard enough megalomania to last me the rest of my life.”
I chuckled, lowering my gun. “Yeah, he's got a habit of that.” I strolled over to her and flipped the john over on his back. I laughed as I saw him. “Looks like D's brother's gone off his meds again.”
She rolled her eyes. “I thought that speech was familiar.”
“No one ever said creative speech was one of their strong points. Just hot chocolate.” She smiled at me and I couldn't stand it anymore. “C'mere, doll.”
I reached for her, my hands grabbing her shoulders and pulling her body against mine. She gasped, her body limp against me. I looked deeply into her eyes for a heartbeat before forcefully claiming her lips.
“Blessed hell!” Shego bolted upright in bed, clammy sweat clinging to her skin.
“'S wrong?” The sleepy slur was accompianied by a slitted eye, barely peering up at her from the depths of a large pillow.
“Shh…it's nothing, darlin’. Go back to sleep.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss against a hair covered temple.
Rubbing her face briskly, Shego made a mental note.
Never again would she watch old Bogey movies and eat Kimmie's cooking before bedtime. That crap was potent enough to warrant an FDA warning label.
- end -