Whiskey & Women

Fickle Creatures (Clarissa Kilpatrick)

Sunday night rolled around, without much excitement. It had been nearly a week since I met the mysterious stranger Jed, and his even more mysterious friend. The only thing that occupied my mind was my experience with Billy, my strange encounter with Jed, and the murder that was never solved.

The murder shook me to my core. Elsa was never one to say a bad thing to anyone, nor was she a trouble maker. And she was young. Too young. After it was established that she didn’t have any close family, everyone moved on. It was eerie, almost as if she never existed. I pitied her and prayed for her peace.

I laid silently in my bed, staring at the ceiling. Willow, my newly adopted kitten, pounced on the bed, chasing a fly she was determined to give a swift demise. Despite my new friend, the past week had been lonely, having not found the answers I was looking for.

What was Billy up to?

What kind of person was Jed?

Who was his friend?

Who killed Elsa?

I listed the questions in my head, hoping the answers would reveal themselves to me. No such luck.

Willow chomped at the air, at last defeating her current arch-nemesis, the fly. I watched her chew at it, until she finally became bored, and left the remains on my sheets.

“Thank you for that lovely present.”

She looked at me, and pranced over, rubbing her head under my hand. After a few minutes, she became bored with that as well and stalked off to find another victim.

Cats are such fickle creatures, I thought to myself.

***

The next night was just like every other night for the past week. To distract myself from the mysteries of the night of the gunshot, I created a list of goals to get me through the long nights. I would begin by scouting out the best man to entertain that evening. And by best man, I meant, a man who wasn’t overly sleazy, and didn’t have slippery fingers, which was hard to come by in that kind of establishment. Next, I would put on my most friendly expression, and serve him drinks until he was too drunk to ask me for any other types of “services”.

The rules seemed fool proof, as long as the man passed out cold in the end. Which was my problem at that moment.

The man I was currently serving had an unusually high alcohol tolerance. And he was becoming angry. The card game he was playing wasn’t exactly going his way, and the drinks were only making him become volatile. In other words, my plan was backfiring.

“You lousy SON OF A WHORE!” My client jumped back startling me. His chair slammed to the ground, and I moved further back, escaping the man’s wrath.

“That game was mine! Ya’ dirty thief, take off your shirt, I can’t think of a sane man, that would wear long sleeves in this kinda heat!”

The small man, he screamed at turned red in the face, his anger boiling to the surface. The other two men sitting at the table looked accusingly at him, following my clients lead. The men had no brains, they were just attempting to preserve some of their dignity at losing.

“I ain’t no cheat! I won that hand fair and square.” The rather small man replied, attempting to gather his winnings. It was a rather large amount, it was no surprise my client was so furious, most of the money was his bet.

“Hm, hmm.”

Everyone at the table turned to face the voice. It was Cherry, complete with her gun in tow.