Down To Sleep by Gifune Greg F

Author:Gifune, Greg F. [Gifune, Greg F.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: short stories, collection
ISBN: 9781934546772
Publisher: DarkFuse
Published: 2010-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

HOAX

I watched him beat her to death. Much as I wanted to stop it—to do something, anything—I couldn’t. Wasn’t in the cards. Hell, they didn’t even know I was there. Neither killer nor victim knew me, but now, I knew them. I knew them both. Whether I wanted to or not.

It was getting late, but I’d started drinking around noon, so what the hell did I care? Through the grimy bar windows I noticed with indifference dusk had begun its slow creep across the city. I wrestled the last cigarette from my second pack of the day and crushed the empty in my hand with a delightful crinkling sound that reminded me of the way my chest sounds while I’m hacking up half a lung. My eyes searched the bar. Empty glasses; damp napkins, and peanut shells. I shook my jacket, listened for the rattling sound and traced it to my side pocket. I blinked the boredom from my eyes, focusing on the small box of wooden matches advertising some restaurant I didn’t remember having ever gone to, and with as dramatic a sigh as I could muster, rolled the butt between my lips. As the match flared and I watched paper and tobacco glow fire-red, I saw—Maxie, she’d said her name was—standing there, arms folded, head cocked, back leaned against the mirrored bar. Christ, I’d almost forgotten she was there. Just beyond the trails of smoke climbing toward the ceiling, as if even they too couldn’t escape my company fast enough, she offered a playful smile I assumed was meant to be compassionate despite her theatrical approach. Apparently she was that type. Always trying too goddamn hard.

Ignoring the ache in my back I looked over my shoulder and searched for a cigarette machine. The far wall next to the entrance housed the only vending machine, some charity offering gumballs. “Don’t you sell cigarettes in here?”

Maxie shrugged, grabbed a rag from somewhere behind the bar and wiped down the counter area between us. “We got rid of it,” she said in a husky voice, odd in such a petite, girlish-looking woman. “Some of the customers who come in for Happy Hour were complaining about all the smoking.”

“We’re in a fucking bar, aren’t we?”

Maxie gave me an obligatory laugh, tossed the rag over her shoulder and leaned forward against the bar, drumming long, acrylic, hot-pink fingernails along the high-gloss surface. “I thought you said you were meeting somebody?”

“That’s the plan.”

“So where is he…or she?”

I held my watch up in front of my face and squinted through the blurry haze, but never did give her an answer. My arm felt like it weighed a ton so I dropped it back down to the bar and slumped over my drink, cupping the glass with both hands and leaving the cigarette dangling between my lips. “Tell me something,” I finally said, noticing as if for the first time the way her little Wonder Bra-encased breasts were nearly spilling out over her clingy blouse. “You

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