Gosh, this only took me about...FOR-STINKIN'-EVER!!! I am SO sorry, I was having MAJOR problems with this chapter. The word-by-word stuff is the hardest part of writing. You know, having to stick to character and what they would/wouldn't say and how they handle things. For a gal who has MAJOR father issues, it was REALLY hard to write Dizzy's take on her own daddy. Her situation is totally different, you see...I may go back and change it later, too...
Anyway, here it is. I certainly hope it isn't disappointing. I'd hate to make you wait so long and patiently (thanks for being so patient) for a load of bullshtick...
Chapter 5Smart Guy reached into the front of his suit an’ pulled out a pen an’ a rolled-up piece of paper. He snapped the paper open with a flourish, handin’ me the pen. “Just sign on the dotted line, an’ you’re in,” he said, grinnin’.
My paw was shakin’ like a leaf. I paused for a moment, intendin’ ta read the contract first, then I decided it didn’t matter. I was in it for the kids, after all. I signed my full name in formal cursive. It looked like this;
I paused again, starin’ at it, then added;
I gave Smart Guy his pen back. He put it back in his suit, then inspected my signature. He raised an eyebrow, givin’ me a questionin’ look. “’Desiree’?”
Wheezy an’ Greasy sniggered. At least, Greasy sniggered. Wheezy just kinda coughed in short bursts. I bristled. “I’ll have you know that it was my mother’s stage name, an’ she was a very successful actress!”
“No, no, I like it,” said Smart Guy, lookin’ at it again. “It’s classy.”
He grinned at me over his shoulder, wigglin’ his eyebrows. “Dez-ar-
raaay!”
I felt my face go hot, an’ fervently hoped I wasn’t blushin’. “I never go by that name,” I said sharply. “I go by Dizzy, or Diz ta some.”
Smart Guy rolled up the contract an’ put it back in his suit. “You got it, doll.”
I sighed in relief.
“You got a weapon, sweetheart?” Smart Guy asked.
“Yeah, two,” I replied, holdin’ up my right fist, then my left.
Smart Guy chuckled. “I admire your confidence, sweetheart, but you’re gonna need somethin’ for long-range, too.”
He looked at Wheezy, pullin’ somethin’ outta his breastpocket an’ tossin’ it to him. Wheezy caught it. Smart Guy jerked his head towards the garage door. “Wheezy, fit ‘er out.”
Wheezy strolled to the door to the garage, movin’ at an easy pace but straight as a die. At the door he paused an’ looked back at me. “Cummon,” he said, jerkin’ his head towards the door.
His voice was harsh an’ raspy from smokin’. It sounded like it’d be painful for him ta talk. I was a little startled, but I didn’t show it. I hurried ta catch up an’ followed him into the garage, where he knelt in front of a trunk. Curious in spite of myself, I watched him unlock it an’ remove the lid. It was full of weapons of every sort, both Toon and real. I figured they’d all been confiscated. “Got a preference?” Wheezy croaked.
I shrugged. That guy kinda creeped me out, an’ besides, he’d been the one ta who’d shot my tire out an’ caused Shorty ta get hurt so bad. I wasn’t all too eager ta talk ta him. I did, in fact, have a particular weapon in mind, though. I kept quiet for a minute, then I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Can I have a machine gun?” I blurted out.
He just glanced at me outta the corner of his eye, a ‘Why-on-Earth-did-the-good-Lord-make-women-so-darn-stupid’ kinda look. “No,” he said flatly.
I drew myself up indignantly. “Why not?”
He began rummagin’ through the chest. “You couldn’t handle it.”
“I could, too!” I said, about five times more indignant than before.
Wheezy put his head down for a minute, thinkin’. Then he got up, turned around, an’ stared at me. I puffed myself up an’ glared back, lookin’ him right in the eyes. After a long time of starin’ impassively at me, he turned and walked to the patrol car. He opened the back door an’ took out a violin case, which he brought over to me an’ opened. His own Tommy gun lay gleamin’ in the velvet linin’. “Here,” he said.
I couldn’t believe it. I searched his face, tryin’ ta read his thoughts, but he retained a bored expression. Carefully, I lifted the gun out, admirin’ its gleamin’ polished wood stock an’ runnin’ my fingertips lightly across its shinin’ metal barrel. Wheezy closed the case an’ set it aside. He took a long drag on his cigarettes. Takin’ ‘em outta his mouth, he tipped his head back an’ closed his eyes for a moment, then blew a cloud of smoke like a sigh. he stuck the cigarettes back in his mouth an’ looked at me. “If y’ c’n ‘it the target, y’ c’n ‘ave a Tommy,” he said, pointin’ to a bullseye target mounted on the garage wall across from where we were standin’.
Easy enough, I thought, smilin’ kinda smugly.
Raisin’ the gun ta my shoulder, I took careful aim an’ squeezed the trigger.
Drakka drakka drakka drakka! The force of the recoil slammed me beck. I lost my balance an’ fell flat on my back.
I was shocked. I sat up wide-eyed an’ pantin’. My shoulder was achin’ from the stock hittin’ me, an’ my pride was killin’ me. Wheezy cackled, takin’ the gun away from me as though he was confiscatin’ power tools from a little kid. He put it back in the case an’ put the case back in the patrol car. I scrambled up, rubbin’ my shoulder. I couldn’t look him in the eyes as he walked past me to the chest, still sniggerin’. After diggin’ through the chest for a minute, durin’ which time he stopped sniggerin’, he pulled out a revolver. “Try this,” he said, handin’ it to me grip-first.
I accepted it, inspectin’ it for a moment before firin’ at the target. This time I hit dead-center. I looked at Wheezy, grinnin’ triumphantly. “Does that qualify me?”
Wheezy took an unused cigarette from his hat, lit it off the end of one of the ones in his mouth, an’ stuck it in his mouth. He kinda leaned back a little as he dragged on it. I waited impatiently. After a moment he took it outta his mouth, blew out a cloud of smoke an’ said, “Yep.”
I was somewhat irritated at his unenthusiastic response. I started twirlin’ the revolver in my palm - backward, then forward, then back again. Yup, I still had it. But when I glanced up ta see Wheezy’s reaction (unimpressed – he wasn’t even lookin’), it occurred ta me that I was showin’ off unintentionally.
What the heck am I doin’? I wondered.
I must be outta my mind. I stopped spinnin’ the gun. “Ya gotta holster for this thing?”
Wheezy dug through the chest for a second, then tossed me a belt an’ holster. The belt was hopelessly too big for my waist, so I put it diagonally over my shoulder so the holster hung at my right hip. Wheezy took one more thing outta the chest, closed the lid, an’ locked it. He stood up an’ handed me the thing. I knew what it was – a switchblade. I’d had one before, but it’d been stolen. I pressed the button on the handle an’ the blade shot out with a thwick! It was a beauty, with a polished wood handle an’ razor-sharp blade that slid in an’ out like a hot spoon through butter. I grinned, flippin’ it back ‘n’ forth, catchin’ it by the blade, then the handle, spinnin’ it in my palm, then flippin’ it again. Then I put it in my belt. “Thanks,” I said, glancin’ up at Wheezy, who was at least a head an’ a half taller than me.
He just gave me a little nod, draggin’ on his cigarette. Just then Smart Guy came in, followed by the others. He looked a little surprised ta see my choice of weapons. “You know how ta use those things?” he asked.
“Yep,” I replied proudly.
Smart Guy looked at Wheezy. Wheezy nodded. Smart Guy grinned. “
Excellent.”
“Where did
you learn to use a weapon?” Greasy asked skeptically.
“My father taught me when I was a kit,” I said, resumin’ flippin’ the switchblade.
“Was your father a cop?” Stupid asked.
“No,” I returned simply.
“He was a bootlegger,” Smart Guy said kinda dramatically, as though he was talkin’ about a murder suspect or somethin’.
I turned my head sharply towards him before realizin’ such a response would be a dead giveaway. I quickly tried to cover it. “So what if he was?” I challenged.
Smart Guy grinned. My stomach flipped.
He knew.
Drat.
Before I could think of a way out, Smart Guy came up ta me an’ put his arm around me, pullin’ me real close an’ aimin’ that hungry vulture-like smile down at me. “Relax, doll, your secret’s safe with us.”
I ducked out from under his arm an’ came up out of arm’s reach. I gave him a cynical look out of the corner of my eye. “Whatever you say, Boss.”
Land, that's rather short, isn't it? I'm sorry...I'll try not to take so long on such a small chapter again...
