This was originally posted at Daily Picspiration on July 19, 2015
Title: While the Jukebox Played
I’d been working vice for years. This was going to be the case that scored me
Six months chasing down The Orchid. She’d evaded me this long, but a tip from a
CI scored me the chance to arrange a meet. I was in the middle of the street
when she’d pinged me. My phone lit up like a firecracker.
“Lose the sweatshirt and meet me at The Juke in 15.”
I looked around cautiously. She clearly had eyes on me. The crowded street made
it impossible to tell who her minion was.
I dropped my eyes back to my phone to check the time. I knew seedy nightclub
was only a ten minute walk. I tucked my phone back in my pocket and walked as
if I didn’t have a care in the world. My heart was racing.
The adrenaline had the better of me, though, and I made the walk in eight
minutes. I looked up and down the street. No cars. No pedestrians. Completely
I shed my sweatshirt and stuffed it into a nearby dumpster. I did a walk around
the block to burn time and nervous energy. I was finally getting a meet with
the Head Mistress of Gambling.
By the time I made it back to the entrance of The Juke, I met the 15 minute
mark. I ran my hands over my hair to smooth it back from my face. I reached for
the door latch with my thumb and pressed the release.
Smoke occupied the top third of the room and the prominent jukebox was blaring
some kind of techno-new wave funk. The bar seemed filthy and empty.
The voice came from a dimly lit corner.
I mustered the courage to reply, “Hello. You must be The Orchid.”
I took three quick steps into the room.
I instantly realized my mistake.
The guns cocked from behind me.
This was going to be the case that scored me my shield.
I barely had time to register her beautiful face before the lackeys opened fire.