La Mouse Fatale

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La Mouse Fatale

It was a Saturday like any other, midday heat turning the final remnants of last night’s rain into steam. The city is just three million sob stories, pimps and hustlers, hookers and crooked cops. Whiskey barely keeping the pain at bay where my face collided with Fat Tony Malloney’s fist last night. I’m thinking maybe I’m too old for this line of work and then BAM! She walks through the door, her smile brighter than the rock around her neck. Broads like this are a whole heap of trouble….but that’s the kind of trouble I like.
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