Another Dirty Day Part. 2

4
Jack and Ray

         The inner quiet of the warehouse soon turned to street noise as the two suits and Brown Sugar entered the back ally. The sounds of beeping cars, revving engines, and small chatter of street shoppers smoothed there way through the air into the ears of Jack and Ray.

         They looked down the back ally to see the large chicken truck idling in front of them, as if it had a mind of its own. It had its own character almost saying, you’re going to regret that! Jack turned to the right and saw his straight black Studebaker. The car was clean and sleek, and the light glimmered off of its fine finish. The car looked like something from an old mobster movie, and it was Jack’s pride and joy. “Shall we take a ride my friend,” Jack chuckled a small bit and tossed the shotgun barrels over his shoulder like an old pioneer.

         “Ya,” Ray started to walk with brown sugar to the back of the car, “Sorry honey, your gonna have to ride…in the back!” Ray clicked open the back trunk and stared down inside, “Get in!”

         Brown Sugar stepped up into the low trunk and crawled into a fettle position, and Ray closed the trunk overtop with Brown Sugar only able to hear him say a few words, “Don’t worry…”

         Jack entered the car and began to rev the engine with a smooth classic sound, as Ray walked from the back and pulled a cigarette from his inside pocket as if he were Houdini and had a hidden compartment. Ray lit up his smoke with a small match and clicked the passenger side door open, and closed as Jack started to drive. Jack drove smoothly in his Studebaker as if it was an extension of his body, the car was his own and no one could drive it like he could. He would hug every turn just perfectly and every stoplight was perfectly executed, and the car reversed, and bobbed, and weaved like a fantastically trained fighter in a golden boxing match.

         They stopped at a light on the corner of James St and Tenor Rd.

         “See that girl over there?” Ray pointed to a beautiful looking blonde who was crossing the road at the opposite end of the intersection.

         “Ya, she’s gorgeous,” Jack readied the stick shift for the light was about to change, “What about her?”

         “What she got with her?”

         Jack clicked the stick shift and pressed the gas, and looked out the side window as they passed the beautiful blonde, “A little dog, looks like a Jack Russell…”

         “Exactly…”


         “Your point, Ray?”

         “She not only just has a dog, she has a shit bag…a mother fucking shit bag!”

         “Well what do you expect her to do leave the shit sitting around the streets,” Jack turned a right and continued down the road, “I hate when people do that, the other day when I was walking to the store to buy some smokes…some crazy son of a bitch left shit on the road so I of coarse step…”

         “That’s not the fucking point, what I’m saying Jack is…these crazy fucks go out and buy a dog for like I don’t know how much…”

         “$500…or so”

         “Sure…and these dogs may be cute but there just an add on to the many fucked problems of someone’s everyday life. 10% of the owning of a dog is all the hey john look he’s smiling at the TV isn’t that cute, but the other 90% is picking up shit, cleaning, bathing, feeding, caring, and not mention all the stuff the dog wrecks, and it sure ain’t good for a sex life”

         “Ya, but it’s a companion, people don’t mind caring for it,” Jack took a sharp left and continued down the road, “Like a baby you know?”

         Ray took a last drag of his cigarette and flicked it out the window, “A baby is different, it’s a human you need to care for, and it has a later purpose in life. The point I’m trying to get across is a beautiful sexy blonde like that one, that could make a dead man drool is fantastically beautiful. But if you asked me I wouldn’t be trailing after her when she’s got a shopping filled with animal shit.”

         Jack smoothly drove the car through lots of back ally’s and worked his way to the river side, “I guess you got you point, I mean it isn’t the sexiest thing…”

         “Right…plus it’s a waste of money for something that just adds to your worries…”

         “Ya, ya, I got ya man…” Jack slowed the car and pulled up to old brick building with no windows, “Here’s the club, get the bitch out,” Jack pulled into a parking space. The Dock’s Club was a small strip joint next to the river by the docks. The yard workers to buy a beer and get some cheap entertainment usually used it, it also had on off track betting rig in the back so it wasn’t too foreign to enforcers like Jack and Ray. Ray pulled another slight of hand to start up another cigarette and clicked open the trunk of the Studebaker revealing a pissed off looking Brown Sugar.

         “Get out honey…we’re here!” Ray grabbed Brown Sugar lightly by the arm and helped her exit the trunk and Jack locked up the doors, and walked to the back to slam down the trunk. The three stared down the front door and waited for the first to make the move. Brown Sugar started to walk as the other two watched her hips sway back and forth in her tight blue jeans. Brown Sugar didn’t turn back or let them know she was upset and devastated that her father had been killed, she still hadn’t computed what exactly happened as she began to open the doors. Jack and Ray followed close behinds as the big double doors flung open revealing the dull sounds of hair metal, and clinging beer bottles.

         Jack first entered after Brown Sugar and stared down the bar looking at about three costumers in the dark watching one dancer and munching on some buffalo wings. Brown Sugar walked into the back room and the two suits followed her after a quick adolescent look at the red headed dancer on stage. In the back room sat a fatter man with moustache and a cheap dress shirt and tie. “Brown Sugar where the fuck have been…you was due here about 3 hours ago!”

         “She was with us…Hank!”  Jack walked into the small office and had short grin.

         “Jackie…ha, ha, what the fuck was she doing with you?” The man sounded almost apologetic for being so rude with Brown Sugar.

         “Don’t mind that Hank…just put her tits on stage and forget it, ok…we had business to take of, and speaking of that we need to talk to you alone…” Ray said as he stared down Hank with an evil grin, and Hank gestured Brown Sugar out of the room. Brown Sugar slowly weaved her way out the door as all three men watched her leave, and the door closed.

         “Guys, you don’t have to do this…I didn’t mean to be an ass…I just run a tight ship you know?”

         Jack closed the door that Brown Sugar just recently went through, “Listen Hank, you know this isn’t about that fucking dancer, we don’t give two shits about her and what time her tits go on,” Jacks voice began to raise as Ray stared to move around the desk. Jack buttoned up his jacket to cover most of the blood on the white dress shirt underneath, “You know that you’ve been skimping on your payments to Black…its his generosity that helps you run this fucking off track betting rig in the back. Also your customers aren’t the most reliable source of income!”

         “Jack…jack…” Hank stuttered as the two men came closer to him, “I know that some guys who bet here aren’t…up to date with the money…but I mean don’t…take it out on me…”

         “You’re a mother fucking bookie you dumb ass its your job to collect the money and make sure they pay…” Jack grabbed Hank by the arm and through his fat body to the wall knocking over a corny picture of a mountain from the pine walls, “If you don’t collect we don’t get make money. And that fuck Truman Florence fucking shot at us today and tagged Ray, I had to kill a cop and I ruined my mother fucking dress shirt you bitch!”

         Hank quivered against the wall and forced out dome words, “Listen…Truman is off the list he’s done…”

         “Too fucking late you ass…too late. Black can’t have a bad bookie running this place, all the docks men are good betters and a bad bookie spoils the batch…” Jack began to pull a gun from his side.

         Ray then interrupted as he looked to a door that was beside a large filing cabinet, “You still live in the basement Hank?”

         “Ya,” Hank said in a questioning way, “Why do you…”

         Bam!

         Ray tossed the big boned man over to the door with a crunch, as Jack grinned putting his gun away. Jack walked over and kicked Hank in the gut sending the door open and Hank tumbling down a set of stairs. “Ha you fucking bitch…do you know how much you owe us…in total?” Ray began to walk down the stairs as Jack followed grabbing a large piece of rope from a shelf, “forty…” Ray took another step, “eight…” another crack of the stairs went off, and “thousand fucking bucks you idiot!”

         Jack began to unravel the large piece of rope, and stared at a quivering Hank on the ground, he moved over top of the man along with Ray.

         “Well Ray…that’s a lot of money…defiantly not worth a worth a short painless death…”

         “No not at all Jack…”

         Hank rolled to look at the two pain enforcing men hovering over top of him… “Ok…we don’t need to talk about death here guys, I can pay the money…I can fucking pay it,” Hank watched as Jack bent down to his feet and started to tie the thick rope around his ankles; Hank didn’t resist. “Please!”

         “Shut the fuck up Hank, you knew this was coming don’t puss out…it is just too bad we had to stop by to drop your bitch off, you may have had another day or so…” Ray chuckled as Jack finished the not, and dragged the fat mustachioed bookie towards a small laundry room. The basement consisted of a small bed with a toilet next to the pillow, a pinball machine, a Pamela Anderson poster and washer and dryer. Jack tossed the rope over an exposed wooden rafter and grasped the other end, as Ray sifted through a pile of junk next to the washer. Ray pulled out a full jug of gasoline, and gestured Jack with a grin.

         Jack tugged the rope a few times and Hank lifted up above the washing machine, with the blood rushing to his head. “Guys what the fuck is your problem…” Hank began to scream trying to survey what was happening by looking around with his blood filled head. Ray laughed as he ripped the cap off the large gas jug and through it up onto the open top of the washer with a chuga-lug of the gas pouring. “Guys…your sick…black is sick…you all fucking sick!” Hank screamed as he span from the rafters like hanging meat in a deli, and Jack hit him with the butt of his gun breaking his nose.

         “Shut it. Hank!” Jack yelled putting his gun away, and the last chug of the gas jug finished, filling up the washer below the dangling Hank. Blood dripped into the bubbling gas below Hank, as his nose salivated at the smell and crispy brokenness of Jack’s doing. Ray had a small chuckle of evil as he turned on the machine and it chucked along with it spitting bits of gas up and dancing on the cement floor.

         “So Jack…this is it…don’t be a bookie…” Jack got louder to be heard over the loud machine, “If you can’t fucking pay!” Jack yelled as he lowered the rope, and Hank gargled in the gas with a faint scream unheard over the loud machine and Ray’s hard chuckles. Jack waited until a the gargle became faint and pulled Hank out…

         “Ahhhhh…you freak…” Hank coughed and screamed, and his eyes illuminated the room with red, “You freaks…why?”

         Jack lowered the rope again until Hanks head dangled a small bit above the gas, “I am not a freak, I’m a business man and so is Ray. We are here to enforce the fact that you didn’t pay a large sum of money to Harold Black our boss and fellow a business man,” Hank let out a squeal not listening a counting the seconds till his death, “We know your not the only one who doesn’t pay, we understand that…but right know you’re the head of a whole lot of fucks who don’t pay…and you know what they say…”

         Ray looked at the pain filled Hank, and grinned towards Jack to finish, “Cut off the head…and the body will die…”

         Clunk!

`          Jack dropped the rope letting Hank’s head hit the side of the washer, and gargle away to nothing. Ray had a small chuckle as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it up. “Cut off the head…ha, ha, ha” Ray looked at the bookies legs dangling from the rumbling washing machine and chuckled as he looked towards his flaming Zippo lighter…

         Whoosh!

         The flames shot up from the washing machine after Ray threw his lighter into the rumbling death trap. Jack had a small chuckle as he started up the stairs and Ray followed puffing on his cigarette with a side faced grim look. Both men came up the stairs and closed the door almost muting the noise and destruction below. Ray went to a small brown box on the Hanks desk that revealed a small bit of cigars that he stuffed into his inner pocket and limped off remembering his bullet wound. Jack first opened the office door and both walked out into the dim lit club with faint music. Brown Sugar danced on the stage with a slight tear in her eye grieving topless. Around for docks men crowded the stage drooling over Brown Sugar not noticing her depressed look in her eyes, and paying more attention to her naked body.

         Brown Sugar’s eyes met with Rays on their way out the door. Ray moved his hands to his mouth and blew the stripper a kiss with a smoke filled grin and a chuckle, as his partner exited the building to his car. Ray flicked his cigarette behind the bar cockily and laughed as he left the club behind Jack. “That’s a new one…ha” Ray looked at Jack, as he entered the car with a grin.

         “A washing machine…good one eh?” Jack started up the Studebaker with a rumble, and Ray lit a second cigarette. The car began to back up and Jack Ray bent down to flick the radio on. Jack looked behind him to reverse out of the parking lot; both men flickered with their eyes off the windshield. A radio station was found and Jack clicked into drive, when they both looked up…

         BANG BANG BANG!

         Brown Sugar stood topless in front of the Studebaker firing to handguns rapidly at the two suits. “Die Mother Fuckers!”

         BANG!

         The windshield blew out and glass shattered everywhere taking out Ray and dropping his cigarette to the ground.

         BANG!

         Another shot straight into Jack’s as the impulse drove his feet to the gas, and the topless beauty finished her rounds out from the side view of the car as it smashed into the side of the club. The noise didn’t distract the drooling sailors and docks men inside viewing a new topless dancer. Brown Sugar ran to the car dropping out two magazines from her guns. She first opened the old car door, and pulled out Jack and dragged him to a blue Oldsmobile parked beside it; she continued to stuff both his and Ray’s bodies inside. Both men ha a verity of shots in the head and upper torso. Both men fit well, but took a good time trying to stuff them into the car whose owner was unknown to her, with her limited strength.

         Brown Sugar opened the car door and hoped into the Oldsmobile which had an old joggers jacket thrown over the back of the seat. The cold topless girl through on the jacket and sported it with her jean short shorts and high cut high heals. Brown Sugar twisted the key after tossing her guns on the passenger seat and backed out of the lot, and started speeding down the road.

         The bodies rumbled in the back of the car, but not as much as the young strippers conscience, but it was all right…they weren’t going to be in the back for long.






































5
Brown Sugar


         The red cutlass Oldsmobile had a 1970’s feel, but sped over the road like a modern car, and did the job for Brown Sugar. She clinkered around with her right hand brushing over the guns, and then moving her head to see if the cars owner had any cigarettes. Brown Sugar opened the glove box and jotted her head from the road to the inside of the glove compartment. A small pack of Bruce lights sat inside atop some rolling papers and a bag of weed. First Brown Sugar pulled out the light cigarettes and sparked one with a match from the jogger coat. She then grabbed the marijuana, which was in a small zip lock and a rolled some strategically as she drove and smoked a cigarette.

         At this time anything that could calm the young girls nerves was an option. She had two dead bodies of grown men belonging to a tight nit mob stuffed gently in the back of a stolen car, speeding down a main road in the late afternoon. Marijuana right now was like a puppy in a pile of snakes. Once again a quick view of the radio helped as she moved her smooth fingers to the knob slapping on an old Johnny Cash song sounding something like her situation. Her father wasn’t big on cracker music but it beat the silence and guilt filled air, which preceded it.

         The car was smooth and worked fine on the rustic back streets Brown Sugar took to get out of sight, and it felt like something that belonged to Huggy Bear, her hero. She chuckled at thought of being like the pimp like enforcer from her favourite cop show. She flicked her smoke out the window and replaced it with a tight wrapped joint and basted it first in her mouth. Another match was soon lit and the familiar smell of fine pot was filling the Oldsmobile and breezing out the window as a shiver went up Brown Sugar’s spine. She got the chill away and continued to smoke the joint to the sounds of Mr. Cash…

         Ring Ring!

         A cop cruiser flew over a small hill and shaped its way through a sharp corner, “For Fuck sakes…” Brown Sugar looked in the rear view and began to slow down but not pull over. The officer continued to follow the young stripper and she started to pull over, flicking the joint into the back seat and blowing a last breath, “Why god why?” Another chill went her spine as the cop clicked open his door and moved cockily to the side of the Oldsmobile.

         Brown Sugar ripped through the glove compartment trying to find a type of registration or name but nothing…

         “Hello ma’am…” The officer said politely with a side of patronization towards her doomed fate in the next five minutes, “You were really clicking it back there on Gertrude Rd…”
         “I know officer, you see I just needed to get to an old friends house…well I still need too, and she married this little white boy. He’s nice and all but his dick is real small and tiny, nothing wrong with it…I guess its how exotic it is you know like a real banana or one of them from a Negro island Caribbean types…like mine, well my ancestors you see like my daddy…”

         “Ma’am are you under the influence of a drug, I do smell marijuana…”

         “Who honey, I’m the only one in the car…” Brown Sugar played dumb trying to pretty her way out of the situation.

         “Ha…seriously…can I see a license please…now…”

         Brown Sugar rumbled through the glove box she previously went through, “Um nothing here…It must be in my other vehicle damn it!”

         “Name ma’am?”

         “Foxy Jones…”

         “Get out of the car…now…get out!”

         The officer opened the door to let Brown Sugar out her pressed her against the side of the car, “Ma’am you are under arrest for being under the influence of a drug, driving without a license and lying to a police officer!” The officer cuffed Brown Sugar from behind the back and led her to the back of his cruiser.

         “Um…sir, when am I gonna get my car…what’s gonna happen to it?” Brown Sugar stared at the trunk with a lump in her throat, and her ass of the seat of the car like a young child seeing what they want at a fast for drive through.

         The officer bent into the car and had a cheap grin, “We will call a tow service…don’t worry just sit back…and shut up!”          

         “Ok…which service…where…when?”

         “Fucking…McGregor’s on Miens, now shut it!” the officer slammed the door and sat down to rev the engine, he took a sip from a cold looking coffee and made a disgusting cringe as he pulled from behind the Oldsmobile… “What’s your real name…Foxy?”

         “Sugar…Brown Sugar!”

         “…Your real name, Brown…Sugar?”

         “Ginger Brown…”

“Holy fuck, you got a spice rack of handles eh?”

“Can we just shut up and get to point B here…officer?” Brown Sugar turned her head from her view on the rear view window to the side to view some grunge like streets in the bad dock neighbourhoods, and muttered under her breath, “Fuck…”

“Ok, no problem…we are almost there anyways…” The officer spoke with a wine like a small child fighting with a sibling, as the York Avenue police department came into view in front of them, one of the more dead beat stations, for the dirty area it was in and the high crime rate. The officer came around to the side of the car after parking in front of the classic looking station. “Welcome Ginger Brown…”

“Why thank you” Brown Sugar exited the car and quieted her voice, “Mother Fucker…”

The officer didn’t hear as he led the tramp dressed stripper up the stairs sporting handcuffs. He opened the door leading Brown Sugar to a large pew in front of the main desk. Brown Sugar watched as the officer left the lobby into the next room just after poking a quick, “Be right back…Ginger”

Brown Sugar hated her name ginger and ever since she got her stripper name at the docks club she used it as her permanent alias and it stuck quick with everyone even her dad. A little old lady poked her bug eyes from behind the main counter and began to speak a small bookish voice like a librarian, “Hello there dear…Ginger is it?”

“Ya…”

“How are you?”

“Not to fucking good ma’am, on account that I’m here!” Brown Sugar sat on the pew and talked to the secretary like a girl in a principal’s office.

“Oh dear…”

“Well,” Brown Sugar started to stand up off the pew and move towards the door with her hands behind her back, “I gotta go, so I’ll see you later…bitch!” Brown Sugar turned her back started to open the main doors as she faced the little older lady.

“Hold on a second,” The old lady said as she pulled a large shotgun out from behind the counter, “No one leaves my lobby…”

BANG!

A large shot went off blowing out the front window, “Fuck son…” Brown Sugar jumped through the broken window breaking a heel and kicking off her shoes.
BANG!

“That bitch is fucked!” shots rang around Brown Sugar and more cops came out to see her running out of the department lot barefoot in short shorts a jog coat. She ran out onto the street as shots went off around her, and the noise of cops running to their cruisers followed. Brown Sugar ran in front of an old blue Chevy and yelled as she worked her way to the driver, “Get out of the fucking car!”

The driver hopped out Brown Sugar got in, the car was running and Brown Sugar used her feet to press the gas sending the car down the road with no steering. She then whipped and weaved to snake her way from her cuffs and bring them to her front. She used her constricted hands to drive the old car and speed down the road into an old ally way, as she watched three cruisers pass by not seeing her parked there. “Fuck…Fuck…this is unbelievable, no way this happening!” The young stripper muttered to herself, as she sat idling in the blue car.

Brown Sugar exited the car looked around for a way to remove the cuffs. Before her, stood a large dumpster and high fence, while the dinner time rush hour speeded behind her on the busy road spiced with a cruiser or two flaying from the station. First the young stripper moved her way to the metal dumpster with an open top and set her cuffs on the corner, she then shouldered the lid down slamming on the cuffs but it did nothing, “Fuck…what am I gonna do,” Brown Sugar looked down to see a small cut on her hand, and pulled the unscratched cuffs from under the large lid.

A taxi stood on the other side of the ally waiting for a stop light to turn, Brown Sugar acted on impulse and ran to taxi flailing her conjoined arms in a rush, “Taxi!”

The driver recognized the young girl waving her arms and waited bobbing his head from her to the light back and forth. Brown Sugar entered the cab, using her cuffed hands, “McGregor’s Auto Shed…go, go!”

The cabbie stepped on the gas as the light changed, not noticing or not asking about the cuffs. She watched as the driver clicked on the cab fare meter and adjusted his mirror. Brown Sugar pulled a small bit of change from the jogger jacket that added to be about three dollars, at which the cab had in its history books. “Is there…um…something wrong there, missy?”

“No, not at all. Um…how far is it?”

“Just up around this bend here…don’t worry…”

Brown Sugar stared out the windows that revealed no police cruisers and they had lost her path. Still the young dancer wriggled in her cuffs pondering an escape. And the cabbie still played dumb to the idea of handcuffs on the young woman. The auto shed came into view…

McGregor’s was an Old shack of a place, with three garage doors one with a broken window. A large painted and misspelled sign reigned over the depressing building, McGregor’s Otto Shed. The taxi stopped as Brown Sugar flicked for more change but only had the small pile in her hands, “Um…I gotta go somewhere else after this, could you keep the car going?”

“Ya…be quick though…”

Brown Sugar intended on it.

But she wasn’t going back to the cab.

She just needed some time…

The young stripper snake charmed her way out of the taxi, enchanting the cabbies eyes as her watched her weave her way towards the door of the garage. She never looked back and just kept going, Brown Sugar never looks back. She moved her confined hands and body to the door and twisted the knob awkwardly. Inside was a small office with a few swimsuit calendars a file cabinet, and a greasy looking desk. No one was around in the office and it seemed that the garage was empty. Brown Sugar peered her eyes around the corner to reveal a deserted garage holding two cars, one being the blue Oldsmobile with a trunk full of felony.

Brown Sugar didn’t exactly want to get in the car just yet, and glanced about the garage with a jumpy heart full of nerves. She looked down at her new bracelet confining her and glanced up to a large circular saw in the corner of abandoned seeming garage. On the way to the saw Brown Sugar pondered the idea of how fast it felt like a ghost town yet her vehicle was there on time. It wasn’t time for pondering…

“Hey…you!” a large voice rang from behind the corner near the office, “what are you doing here?”

“Fuck…” Brown Sugar muttered as she inched to the saw, “Um…just here for my car, this Oldsmobile…”

The man revealed himself as a heavyset greaser covered in a mechanics suit, and pulled out some papers, “That vehicle there…its been impounded by the police, you can’t take that…”

Brown Sugar inched her way even closer so that her hands were below the saw blade, “Oh, ok…well um…” Brown Sugar tried to spit out words a she used the car to blockade her doings from the grease monkey across the garage, “I was gonna take it out…but…I…ah…um…”

Reeen!!!

Brown Sugar pressed the button with her elbow starting up the saw and cutting her chains, she then ran to the to the Oldsmobile door and jumped in. The grease began to jont over to the car, “Hey, hey…what the fuck are you…”

Rummmmm!

The car speeded towards the greaser as he yelled, “Get the fuck out of my way!” The car sped scraping against the side of the other car and rumbling towards the stubborn grease monkey…

Thump…

Brown Sugar ran over the mechanic…

Crash!

She sped through the garage doors flying onto the street with hunks of debris flying and crumbling behind her, “She whatched her speed, she could’t mess up the situation now. She swearved a bit and kept a steady pace back in the old car. The car seemed not as comfortable to drive as before, it was just the nerves not the car. The roads seemed rougher and busier from the rush of honest buissiness men coming home from work in their family sedans. The lights seemed longer, the world moved faster not everybreath was something to be soaked in. Brown Sugar had big nerves it wasn’t the same, she lost her cofidence but not her drive…she wasn’t getting caught with these bodies not at all.

Now with the cuffs off she had a brand new freedom, but because the nerves she couldn’t use it. She felt like a young child being sick on christmas, and didn’t bother with the radio just kept driving up a large hill as the city became smaller and more veiwable. “Just gotta get to the cliff…almost there…just gotta get to the cliff…” Brown Sugar muttered and muttered as she chunked up the large drumlin of a hill. The top came into veiw and as she passed the high top of the hill the other side became more rustic as if it were a time portal from urban to rural, she took a quick right near the top of the hill going into a small patch of woods on a dirt path.

         She parked her car on the side of the road, came out and popped the trunk. “Ok, almost there girl, I can do this…” Brown Sugar powered herself quitly as she pulled Ray’s crunkled body from the trunk setting it beside the car and closed the trunk so none would see her dirty secret. Brown Sugar looped her arms undeneath Ray’s shoulders and draged the heavy built man down the small dirt path a short bit until coming to an edge where a levy was. The levy was somewhat deep and fell off the edge of a small cliff.

         Brown Sugar stared over the edge of the cliff into the small pool of water below and acted quick tossing Ray’s lifless body over the edge letting it hit a few rocks on the way, “Bastard…” Brown Sugar muttered as she turned back to get the second casualtie. She once again popped the trunk and pulled Jack’s body out after checking for any passing drivers, and dragged the body down the path even quicker and tossed her father’s killer over the edge. Brown Sugar was surprised at the fact no blood got on her, and she strolled her way back to the car easily…

         “Hi there…” a nice looking clean cut man szaid standing before her, “How are you ma’am?” The man was wearing a long black coat with a a fine dress shirt underneath and a tie, and a second more rogged man appeared behind him wearing much the same attire.

         “Oh…a…hi, I’m good, and you?”

         “Great, we noticed your car parked outfront, this area is off limits for the danger of the levy…” The clean cut man spoke with wisdom and friendliness, as the other man suspiciouslly looked around evily, “Two kids died last month here you know?”

         “Ya, one was my brothers…friend,” Brown Sugar then noticed guns on both the men, these were detectives, “I was just coming to morne…you know?”

         The rugged cop then spoke up, “OK, but you gotta get the hell out of here, and get our car off the side of the road ma’am…”

         “You guys detectives?” Brown Sugar starrted to do her signature weave infront of the men on her way back to the car.

“Yes,we are with vice,” The clean cut man began to follow the young stripper to her car, “I’m Dective Elmont…this is Detective Screw…”

It was at that point that Brown Sugar knew she was off the hook, she was there with cops and they didn’t notice. No one would go back and check, she had her revenge and got off with it, she knew she was free. “Well thank you very much Detectives, wouldn’t want to be unsafe or anything…”

“No problem,” both detectives got in their car with Screw driving, “And sorry to hear it was a friend of yours that fell in the levy last month,” Elmont shut his door and the car started back into town and they passed Brown Sugar, “Bye now…”

Brown Sugar had a grin of achievement as she checked the trunk was shut and whatched the two vice detectives weave back into the city disapearing along with her crime. She thought to herself she may be in a nit of trouble for the speeding and unlicenced driving but it was better then murder. The nerves soon disapeared and everything began to move slower again. Her heart beat went a single pace, and she opened the door of the Oldsmobile. She had a small chuckle as she sat into the car and ajusted her mirror, “ha, ha…those bastards got their lesson today…”

Brown Sugar looked ahead down the road and grinned, she then turned the key to start the car…

BOOM!

The car blew up into a ball of smoke and fire atop the large hill…

Brown Sugar was dead.

Damn machanics!