Flumes Volume 2: Issue 1, Summer 2017 - Page 37

‘Ya know… for a girl.’

‘For a girl.’ The worst three words next to ‘I love you’.

Wasn’t that why she wanted to call it quits? Pulling off capers with ever raising stakes, not to keep up with the boys, but to keep up with her own desires. Wasn’t she tired of dying her hair to play constant new roles? Didn’t she want to pull dye jobs strictly to hide her all too plentiful grays? Wasn’t vainly living out the latter part of her life the dream when she first picked up the lifestyle? Didn’t she want to be like the goddamn Catwoman? After all, she paid enough to have a better bust than Julie Newmar. What happened to those silly dreams of a little girl who didn’t want to play princess?

She wanted to be Queen, only to find her crown an ill fit.

Legato in black came from a trumpet and bass, sucking the warmth from the showroom lighting. Slinking to the wet bar, thoughts of pouring herself her own bitter cup to call it a night flooded her mind. Anything to soothe being ill at ease in her skin. She’d taken off her shoes, but stayed wrapped in the backless red, retro-flapper-number, that made her look so flash tonight. Matronly hips rubbed against the bar counter. Free-swinging tassels swayed to the brushed-out beat as she danced with herself, unable to shimmy out those ragtime blues. If only she would have listened to her parents while she could about how, ‘Nothing ever ends how you want.’

And if only leaving with mom didn’t mean moving from squat to motel and junker to clunker. Ever on the move together, mother selling herself on the main drag of every town like her daughter never knew. At least she learned that little tidbit from mommy. dearest; use everything you can to your advantage.

24

Cynicism, Lea Kelley

A collection of bent and slightly burnt photographs, flip lighters, hats, wallets, and other miscellany told two sides of a wild story at the same time. Tracey’s Van Halen shirt that still smelled like him and the reefer they

She fell back into playtime, “To think our mysterious stranger would make a miraculous third act reappearance to save our heroine from the edge of death. She repaid him for that debt, more than fairly.” A darting glance to the next exhibit.

She skipped a light fandango, turning pirouettes across the floor. Pressing play on the wall-unit stereo began a smoky croon that sang of blue velvet and broken hearts. Along the western wall, beneath crying speakers, sat souvenirs from the guys and dolls she’d shacked up with and shook down over the years.

Love. The greatest heist of them all.

Under her spell, against a protesting crew, they sailed into deeper waters. The crew, none-too-thrilled tohave a lady aboard in the first place, threatened mutiny at every turn with Hunnish terms.” She broke character, lost in thought, watching those bits of tarnished silver asthey sat there, depreciating with the strength of the Yen. “Guess they were right about that bad luck biz.” Escaping on a life raft with sunken treasure was just one way she earned her title.

She fell back into playtime, “To think our mysterious stranger would make a miraculous third act reappearance to save our heroine from the edge of death. She repaid him for that debt, more than fairly.” A darting glance to the next exhibit.

She skipped a light fandango, turning pirouettes across the floor. Pressing play on thewall-unit stereo began a smoky croon that sang of blue velvet and broken hearts. Along the western wall, beneath crying speakers, sat souvenirs from the guys and dolls she’d shacked up with and shook down over the years.

Love. The greatest heist of them all.

A collection of bent and slightly burnt photographs, flip lighters, hats, wallets, and other miscellany told two sides of a wild story at the same time. Tracey’s Van Halen shirt that still smelled like him and the reefer they smoked that night. Rico’s ACE comb, missing teeth, just like Rico. It still held a few strands of that thick Cubano hair. She absently touched her cheek at the thought of his unrivaled passion, Rico’s best and worst quality.

“That’s an attraction best left behind the curtains.”

Through framed fingers, she sought the perfect place to display her final memento for the display, Red Black’s chapter colors. She snagged it during her exit from that Arena Blanca fleabag motel after closing the lid on the ole reliable honeytrap. Seven mil of casino winnings and a biker vest, right out from under Red’s drunk nose. A decent enough totem to put a period on the final sentence of her life of crime. Already a multi-millionaire, this score was for her retirement. No fencing, nothing to resell, just cold hardcash from One-Eyed Jack’s vaults. Those little backwater casinos were always hidden gems and easy targets. Softball league stuff. Pulled off all thanks to some incognito wiring and an eye for talent. Her last score.

The last score…