No idea where this was going. I think I started this before "The All Purpose Thief"; the book I actually finished. Entirely forgot this one. Might've just been built around opening something with waking up after having been thrown through a window.

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Untitled Cole Crime Thing

Date of original writing: 2013 or so

CHAPTER 1

The stars shined brightly. Too brightly. He blinked hard, trying to make his headache disappear. It didn’t work.

He shook his head and looked down finding a second set of stars. These ones looked like they were lit correctly. Looking up again the first set of stars came into proper focus. He shook his head again and the world itself focused as well.

As he stood up he found that one of the sets of stars littered the ground and cut the palms of his hands. Slivers of broken glass.

Turning around the remnants of a large storefront window seemed to smile a jagged smile at him like a post modern Cheshire cat.

He used his hands to smooth the front of his dark blue suit. He noticed a dark substance on his hands, rubbed it between his fingers, smelled it and came to the conclusion that it was blood.

He couldn’t remember being thrown through the window or who had thrown him. He also couldn’t recall how he had ended up in this part of town.

The part of town where there are more pawn shops than are necessary. Where people aren’t sure who their neighbours are until they get arrested on the news. Where anything not nailed down and flammable will be ripped off and set on fire.

The inside of the store he had been catapulted from looked like it had been out of business for some time. No alarm, no cops. He thanked God for small miracles then cursed him for the pain in his side.

It was calm, quiet. Not even a slight breeze molested the night.

He started walking in what he hoped would lead to civilization. He didn’t remember how he got there as he left but walking away from hundreds of pieces of broken glass the last thing he did remember was the girl.

CHAPTER 2

Whenever Mick was around prostitutes he got the urge to ask stupid questions.

“What’s the biggest dick you ever sucked.”

There were three of them in the staff lounge. The lounge was about the size of two and a half bus shelters but with a better smell and more comfortable seating. More or less a sitting area just off of the dressing room. The curtain that functioned as a door didn’t close all the way and Mick enjoyed the fleshy view from his seat.

Next to Mick, Cole was busying himself with a crossword puzzle. His side didn’t hurt, he didn’t have a headache and he had yet to be thrown through a window.

Across from them the lithe Nubian female whom Cole hoped wasn’t the fifteen years old she looked was considering the lengths of male genitalia she’d had in her mouth.

The girl came up with an answer, “I think about 13-14 inches. So fucking big.”

Mick couldn’t believe it, “Come on. That can’t be right. Was that for a movie?”

“Oh sure. Yeah. Those guys are huge.”

“Yeah because most of them have dick surgery or inject themselves with cock hardener. That’s not fucking real.”

“Oh you’d be surprised.”

Cole grunted harshly.

“You say something?”, Mick asked Cole sarcastically.

They had worked together for years. Mick a big guy, fat but he carried it well. With enough muscle to come out on top nine times out of ten. Though he was almost fifty, he still did a good job of doing his job.

Cole was about half Mick’s age with all of the skill but none of the usual physical attributes for someone in his line. He made up for this by using his head and sharp objects.

Mick thought of Cole like a son. Cole thought of Mick like a friend who happened to be the same age as his father. Wherever that son of a bitch was.

Cole grunted again.

“Problem?”, Mick asked.

“A little bit yes.”

“What is it?”

Cole folded his crossword in his lap, “Every time you’re in the same room as a hooker you ask the same stupid questions.”

The girl was offended, “Who you calling a hooker?”

Cole looked at the girl briefly, “I’m not talking to you..”

“You’re talking to me now. Who the fuck’re you calling a hooker?”

Cole leaned forward in his chair and spoke in a tone of voice usually reserved for bankers denying loans, “You. I’m calling you a hooker. You goddamn hooker.”

The girl looked like she would cry and then she did.

“Grow the fuck up.”

The girl couldn’t hold it together and ran from the room sobbing.

Mick shook his head, “Why you gotta be such a bastard?”

“Just the way things turned out.”

“Your wife’s gonna hate you.”

“Think I’ll get that far?”

“Probably not.”

Cole tossed the newspaper onto the seat beside him, put his pen back in his pocket and rubbed his eyes. He sighed angrily.

Mick laughed, “You got someplace to be?”

Cole cracked his knuckles, “Anywhere but here.”

“Jail?”

“Fuck off.”

Mick laughed harder, “Seriously. How many naked women do you need to be happy?”

It was Cole’s turn to shake his head, “Those aren’t women. Those are dead bodies on autopilot.”

“Whatever books you’ve been reading I suggest you stop.”

“Suggestion noted and ignored.”, He leaned back in his chair, put his head against the wall, closed his eyes and tried to speed up time.

Mick continued to steal glances at femininas in various stages of undress, keeping his mind and his pants occupied.

A few minutes later a buxom blonde strode through the curtain like she was presenting an award. Although her pink bra and panties with black gloves, pantyhose and garters would look out of place at the Oscars.

The blonde waited as if giving them a moment to create a full mental picture that they could jack off to later.

The blonde spoke, “He just came in.”

“Where is he?”, Mick stood, all business now.

“He usually hangs around the main-stage until he finds someone he likes and then he takes her into the back.”, she explained.

Cole stood too, “And that’s different from everyone else how?”

Mick ignored Cole, “Just make sure he gets into room five when he goes into the back. Okay?”

The blonde nodded, “Can do.” She left as though she had just taken their lunch orders.

Mick turned to Cole, “You ready?”

“Ready to stand around in a semen stained back room at a bottom of the barrel strip joint? Can’t wait.”

CHAPTER 3

They say in folding chairs on opposite sides of the room. Nowhere to look but the floor or at each other.

This particular private room was done up like a ten year old’s vision of how a jungle should look in a porno. Fake African-esque wallpaper, plastic ferns, and a black leather couch that only had one purpose. Two if you paid enough.

Black curtains hung in all four corners of the room. Blue lights on the ceiling mixed with red lights on the floor. Purple grossly covered everything as a result.

“Is there anyway to fix the lights in here when we’re working?”, Cole asked Mick in disgust.

“Do you really want to get a good look at this place?”

“Good point.”

Mick looked at Cole, waiting for him to meet his eyes.

Cole looked over and saw Mick looking at him. “What?”

“What’re you gonna do kid?”

“Oh God. This isn’t the retirement slash you should get out too speech is it?”

Mick shrugged, “Could be.”

“Then I’ve lost all respect for you.”

“What else is new.” Mick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s not that speech.”

“But it is a speech?”

“Of sorts.”

“What does that mean?”

Mick sighed, “Means things are changing. The guard is changing. It means watch yourself, kid.”

Cole sat back in his chair, “Oh shit. You are retiring.”

Mick shrugged again.

Cole held up his hands returning the shrug, “Why?”

“Would you want to be as old and fat as I am still doing this shit?”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I am.”, Mick fiddled with his shoulder holster absently.

“What’s going on?”

Mick thought about how to explain it to his young friend for a minute.

“Alright. Let me put it this way. When’s the last time you saw Angela?”

Cole thought about it, couldn’t remember, “Beats me.”

“Well whenever that was. She’s a little more pregnant than when you last saw her.”, Mick grinned.

Cole shook his head in disbelief, “Uh. Whoa!”

“Yeah.”

“So now every time I call you ‘Gramps’ technically I’ll be right.”

Mick took a quarter out of his pocket and threw it in mock rage at Cole, “You know what they’re gonna put on your tombstone?”

“World’s Greatest Philosopher and Lover.”

“Asshole. That’s it. Just a big boulder right on top of you with the word ‘Asshole’ bashed into it.”

“Let the punishment fit the crime.”

“Something like that.”, Mick tapped his toes. “What d’you think mine’ll say?”

Cole looked at Mick with an expression that asked, “Do I have to answer that?”

Mick returned it with his own expression that said, “Humour me, motherfucker. That’s an order.”

“Here lies Mickey Atcheson. Friend. Father. Grandfather. Bad Ass Mofo.”

Mick smiled, “Well thanks.”

“Course you’ll be dead so I’ll just put whatever the fuck I want on there. Probably something like, ‘Here lies Mickey. He likes to be pissed on.’”

“Fuck you”, Mick laughed and searched in his pockets for another piece of change to throw when there was a knock on the door.

“Is that the signal?”, Cole asked.

Mick furrowed his brow, frowned, “Did we have a signal?”

The door started to open. Mick and Cole exchanged a panicked glance and then both dove behind the curtains on their side of the room.

Thumping electronic beats roared to life and died again as an Asian woman dressed like a nurse led a good looking man in his mid-thirties into the room. They were walking close together, his hands were on either side of her mid-section. She directed him onto the couch with practiced precision.

She went to the side of the room and slid open a section of the wall exposing a built-in stereo system. She pressed play, walked back over to the man of the hour as slow R&B poured through the speakers. The unregistered nurse began to dance like slow flame. The man touched himself.

Mick and Cole waited until the nurse’s shirt came off and she had his complete attention. Then they moved in.