He thought about Mattie. I thought about Mattie.
I think about her in stupid, stupid ways. I'm limited when it comes to that crap. That's why I'm single. I'm dumb with woman. Sloppy and pathetic. I can know when a guy is guilty in three seconds of staring into their eyes. Women are a mystery. I don't take cases where the suspect is of the female persusasion.
He shifted to his back, it was an attempt to get blood back into his foot and hands. He had to concentrate on that now. He was risking losing them, or parts of them at best. Painfully, he squeezed his hands, wiggled his feet. He breathed. He thought about Mattie.
He met her struggling on her feet. She was stupid drunk, she was stupid young. But, man, she was beautiful. Mattie had dark brown eyes with a tinge of green around them. Her dirty blond hair was up that day, in a club style. But it didn't belie that she was getting into trouble. She was arguing with some other girls. Mattie had slap marks on her face. To me it was like a doll getting abused: she didn't deserve this.
I stepped in between them. The friends layed into me. They used a string of expletives that almost hurt. I turned around and stuffed my chest out, and in my best gravely voice, "Ugly, fat whores. Get out from my fucking face and get back in that bar to give up that skank-ass slit." I slowed it down for emphasis since I worked myself up, "Worst kind of slut doesn't know when to shut up before they might get into a little trouble." The curled their tails and gave it up.
I turned to Mattie. "Who the fuck are you?" It was love at first sight for me. She was wearing this tight, deep red number that shifted in color depending on the light. We got to talking. We became friends.
I could hear her footsteps coming down the walk. I know them anywhere. She was wearing heels. I bet she was planning on going out tonight. Not if I can help it. Oh, Mattie. If this were another life.
She mewed where he could not. All that he can make out were her shapely legs, tightly wound in purple stockings. She knelt near him and he found the intoxication of her balsam-ish body lotion. She didn't believe in perfume. God lover her, thought Charlie, she'll never need it.
Soft hands brushed back the white hair that was caked from sweat. He smelled like the back of a dumpster. The cords gave way. He could at least smooth out the pain better. He had to just lay there.
"Oh, God." She saw the body. He didn't hear McMillan come in, but he heard him exclaim, "Oh, Jesus!" Then, "Is he still alive?"
I groaned something about paying Mattie her paycheck to the guy. He had it in his wallet. May as well do something for her in this mess. Calls were made at I was on my way to the hospital.
