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Authors: Jackie Chance
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groaned loud enough to make me think his throat was free of Rambo’s hands. “That sound?”
“The only sound I hear is you trying to distract me from killing you,” Electric Blue Rambo said. I swallowed my sigh of relief as he went on. “Listen, just because we are partners doesn’t mean we like you enough to keep you around. Take care of things for the next couple of days without bothering us or you are taking the fast track to hell. You got that?”
I felt like I was caught in the middle of a gangster movie. Who says stuff like that . . . “fast track to hell”? It reminded me of The Godfather. Which reminded me of horse’s heads in bed. I shook my head, trying to snap myself back to reality. It occurred to me that they were wrapping up their quaint little tête-à-tête. What was I going to do if they came down the stairs toward me? My Steve Maddens weren’t soundless. Damn, should have worn the moccasins after all.
As Electric Blue Rambo (I assumed) made a few more loud thumps on Pete, I considered slipping off the boots and running the rest of the ten floors on socked feet. But before I could decide, Electric Blue Rambo advised his buddy to get lost and footsteps scuffled above me.
Damn. Without any further brain bending, I lurched for the door to the tenth floor, opened it and ran faster than I had when my sorority housemother caught me in the broom closet with a Sigma Phi. The door slapped closed behind me. I had no plan, a tight skirt, high-heeled boots and the world’s longest, straightest hallway with absolutely no place to hide, but suddenly luck on my side. An older man appeared out of the elevator and began meandering down the hall. I escalated, slowing to a walk before I came even with him. As I heard the stairwell door slam open, I wrapped an arm around his waist and said loudly, “Uncle Jack! I’ve been looking for you all night.”
He grinned at me and the alcohol fumes made my eyes water. “Oh? Where was I?”
Heart pounding, I refused to glance back. Instead I winked at “Uncle Jack.” “Where you don’t belong, no doubt, you rascal.”
“This old dog might have seen his prime, but I’ve still got some go to me, girlie.” He chortled, then frowned. “I might have some go, but I don’t have a lick of memory. You must be Martha’s girl, right? Be sweet and remind a silly old man of your name.”
Thankfully, before I had to answer, he pulled up unsteadily. I could hear footsteps hurrying up behind us. “Oops,” “Uncle Jack” said. “Here’s my room. Almost passed it. That memory really is going.”
I held my breath as his wavering hand fished in his shirt pocket for his room key. His gnarled fingers shook as they fitted the plastic card into the lock. “Uncle Jack” held the door for me. I was halfway through when my luck ran out.
“Excuse me,” Electric Blue Rambo called out behind us.
I gently shoved my dear uncle forward, but the bad guy with the bad ass voice commanded attention, and he got it. “Yeah?”
I suddenly found a reason to primp in the mirror, yanking my hair loose to further hide my face.
“Hey, old man, did you come up the stairs just now?”
“No, went by the elevator, sonny.”
“How about her?” Electric Blue Rambo scared me so much I couldn’t look at him. I hoped he couldn’t see my legs shaking. I cocked my head and examined my lip gloss, smoothing it with a pinkie. I smelled the Iceberg again and tried not to shiver as I saw him reach for me out of the corner of my eye.
“This is my niece, sonny,” my gallant savior announced bravely if slurringly as he stepped in the way. “Paws off.”
“No offense, I just wanted to know if she came up the stairs. I’m looking for something I lost.”
I shook my head, not wanting to speak, partly because I thought my voice might sound like Minnie Mouse, but also because I didn’t want to give Electric Blue Rambo any more hints to who I was other than my backside.
“Sonny, you’re
“The only sound I hear is you trying to distract me from killing you,” Electric Blue Rambo said. I swallowed my sigh of relief as he went on. “Listen, just because we are partners doesn’t mean we like you enough to keep you around. Take care of things for the next couple of days without bothering us or you are taking the fast track to hell. You got that?”
I felt like I was caught in the middle of a gangster movie. Who says stuff like that . . . “fast track to hell”? It reminded me of The Godfather. Which reminded me of horse’s heads in bed. I shook my head, trying to snap myself back to reality. It occurred to me that they were wrapping up their quaint little tête-à-tête. What was I going to do if they came down the stairs toward me? My Steve Maddens weren’t soundless. Damn, should have worn the moccasins after all.
As Electric Blue Rambo (I assumed) made a few more loud thumps on Pete, I considered slipping off the boots and running the rest of the ten floors on socked feet. But before I could decide, Electric Blue Rambo advised his buddy to get lost and footsteps scuffled above me.
Damn. Without any further brain bending, I lurched for the door to the tenth floor, opened it and ran faster than I had when my sorority housemother caught me in the broom closet with a Sigma Phi. The door slapped closed behind me. I had no plan, a tight skirt, high-heeled boots and the world’s longest, straightest hallway with absolutely no place to hide, but suddenly luck on my side. An older man appeared out of the elevator and began meandering down the hall. I escalated, slowing to a walk before I came even with him. As I heard the stairwell door slam open, I wrapped an arm around his waist and said loudly, “Uncle Jack! I’ve been looking for you all night.”
He grinned at me and the alcohol fumes made my eyes water. “Oh? Where was I?”
Heart pounding, I refused to glance back. Instead I winked at “Uncle Jack.” “Where you don’t belong, no doubt, you rascal.”
“This old dog might have seen his prime, but I’ve still got some go to me, girlie.” He chortled, then frowned. “I might have some go, but I don’t have a lick of memory. You must be Martha’s girl, right? Be sweet and remind a silly old man of your name.”
Thankfully, before I had to answer, he pulled up unsteadily. I could hear footsteps hurrying up behind us. “Oops,” “Uncle Jack” said. “Here’s my room. Almost passed it. That memory really is going.”
I held my breath as his wavering hand fished in his shirt pocket for his room key. His gnarled fingers shook as they fitted the plastic card into the lock. “Uncle Jack” held the door for me. I was halfway through when my luck ran out.
“Excuse me,” Electric Blue Rambo called out behind us.
I gently shoved my dear uncle forward, but the bad guy with the bad ass voice commanded attention, and he got it. “Yeah?”
I suddenly found a reason to primp in the mirror, yanking my hair loose to further hide my face.
“Hey, old man, did you come up the stairs just now?”
“No, went by the elevator, sonny.”
“How about her?” Electric Blue Rambo scared me so much I couldn’t look at him. I hoped he couldn’t see my legs shaking. I cocked my head and examined my lip gloss, smoothing it with a pinkie. I smelled the Iceberg again and tried not to shiver as I saw him reach for me out of the corner of my eye.
“This is my niece, sonny,” my gallant savior announced bravely if slurringly as he stepped in the way. “Paws off.”
“No offense, I just wanted to know if she came up the stairs. I’m looking for something I lost.”
I shook my head, not wanting to speak, partly because I thought my voice might sound like Minnie Mouse, but also because I didn’t want to give Electric Blue Rambo any more hints to who I was other than my backside.
“Sonny, you’re
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