Once upon a time there was a man named Dick Casey. Everyday, he met with broads who slid him some spinach to find their lost sisters or a flattie would toss him some berries to help catch the latest serial killer.
One day, Casey pulled the collar of his overcoat up, smashed his fedora on his head, and hurried out to put the screws on a goon by the name of One Eyed Bart. Casey suspected the cat was working with Big Eddy down at the docks. And they weren't bringing in fish.
"Hey there, Bart," Casey growled, stepping out of the shadows behind the old hash house. Bart dropped his gasper and reached for his bean shooter. Casey lifted his own gat and shook his head.
"No need to burn powder. I ain't lookin' to haul you to the big house. I'm here for the rumble on a catch Big Eddy is expecting tonight."
"I ain't no stoolie," Bart spit onto the alley floor.
Casey slowly reached into his pocket, pulled out a yard, and held it out to Bart.
"I ain't interested in yer scratch, neither. Kale ain't no good to a stiff." Bart sneered. "Now if you don't mind, it's time fer me to drift. Got an appointment to keep, you know." Casey's gaze narrowed as Bart's backside disappeared inside the restaurant.
"Because of that," Casey mumbled, stuffing the cabbage back into his pocket, "I'm gonna have to to tip a few with Max." Casey sighed at the thought.
Casey tossed some sugar at a hack. "Fifth and Garfield," he told the cabbie. Tina's was the most popular gin mill on the east side of town. It was also the best place to find Max on a Friday night.
"Casey!"
He grinned as Max sauntered toward him, fingering the ice around her pipes. "It's been a long time since we've bumped gums," she purred. She grabbed his arm and leaned in to smack his mug, leaving behind a red smudge of lipstick.
"Tina, how 'bout a cup of joe?" Casey sank onto a barstool, forcing Max to release his arm.
"And I'll have a jorum of skee," Max winked, "Since my friend here is paying."
Casey sipped his javva, "Word on the street is there's a certain party goin' down at the docks tonight." Casey stared at her over the rim of his coffee cup.
"You're putting me behind the eight ball, Casey. You know what'll happen if I sing..." she trailed off, her lips puckering into a pout.
Casey bought her another round until finally, Max pulled a card from her bosom, grinned, and slid it across the counter. "I might be a bunny but you're just too cute to resist."
With a frown, Casey took a slant at the scribbles on the card. "Thanks for the drinks, toots."
According to Max's information, the big event was supposed to take place at seven in the evening. Casey took to the shadows at six. With narrowed eyes he watched as men started creeping onto the docks.
"You've been made, Casey!"
Casey jumped and swore as a Roscoe pressed against his back.
"Hey, boys!" the voice called, "Look what the cat drug in!"
With a rough nudge, Casey was encouraged to move forward. His eyes flickered over the group of people gathered at the dock. Their eyes narrowed as he stepped from the shadows.
"Dang it, Casey!" Big Eddy grumbled, crossing his arms over his massive chest, "This was supposed to be your surprise birthday party!"
As the gun shifted away from Casey's back, he tipped his hat at his friends and family, "Surprise!"
|
|
| (4.0)
| (4.5)
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
This poem reminds me of when I lived in the country with my dad. I can almost smell that crisp, morning autumn air and see the fog resting on the mountains.
Hard to learn from our mistakes when we 1984 them.
My review has been submitted for consideration in "
Hmmm. There's probably a better way to reword it. Anyway, it wouldn't feel so...bumpy...at that part if it was tweaked a tad.
Dwyer looked at her skeptically. “I’m not included to believe it either.” 
See, years ago a preteen made a homemade "bomb" out of fireworks and tossed it in our car. It set the car on fire, which set the carport on fire, which spread to the 4-plex we were living in. So this story of yours hits a little close to home. I'm so glad the fire was put out quickly and nobody was hurt!
When I have the time, I go back and fix my mistakes. I'm still learning (commas are my kryptonite!). That said, I'm only reviewing your prologue for now for easy "digestibility". I'll send a separate review for Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 later.
I loved how Bob fixed the so-called stars by using duct tape. And that paper clip was a great touch. Now if he used WD40, that would have totally completed Bob's "tool bag".
Whenever you write numbers in stories, they should be written in word form. So, "fourteen" rather than 14.
I don't think Natalie was "stupid". She was raped. It wasn't her fault. Now if she'd been sleeping around with multiple partners and not using protection that could, arguably, be considered "stupid". 
Be more specific with the hospital tests. Did Natalie bump her head and need a CAT scan? Did she have broken bones that needed x-rayed? HIV tests? Also, as a mother of 7 I know it's not common to discover pregnancy before 7 days. I checked online to be sure and found that a urine test will show pregnancy from 7-14 days after sexual intercourse. A blood test might show a pregnancy more quickly, but it depends on when implantation occurs (sperm can live up to 7 days) and it can take awhile for the hCG levels to build up enough in the body for the tests to "read".