Houston Noir by Gwendolyn Zepeda

Houston Noir by Gwendolyn Zepeda

Author:Gwendolyn Zepeda
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2019-04-21T16:00:00+00:00


CITY OF GIRLS

by Leslie Contreras Schwartz

Aldine

Sergeant Dan Correal opened the door and heard the delicious hush, the whir of the air-conditioning, and the dog snoring gently on the couch. He locked up his holster in the safe, put in the Glock 22, which he’d secretly named Lady Lisa, after his wife. Just taking off the holster made his shoulders and neck ache as if he’d lifted weights for hours, like he used to, but he had hardly moved much from the seat of his cruiser for his entire shift.

At the end of his shift, he’d had to make a domestic disturbance call on Bissonnet, and he already felt old and grizzled as he climbed the apartment steps to the third floor. His radio and its perpetual buzz, the sun’s hot-white glare still strong in the fall, gave him a headache that pulsed into his ears.

He’d knocked on the apartment door, which pushed it open. A young woman, Charlie, stood in a transparent black shift dress. She was a regular, both sad and disturbingly attractive to Dan with her shifty, bottomless gaze, full lips, dark eyes. “He’s already gone,” she said, pushing back her hair into a sleepy pile, a mound of soft cleavage peeking through the V in her dress. Dan shifted his eyes quickly to the window, the spoons, the collection of flip-flops and heels that had been kicked off by the door. A pair of brown work boots, the laces undone in long snakes.

She’d met his gaze, made a small, teasing smile. “Oh, he left those, I guess.” She’d sighed and walked to the kitchen. He did his check, his to-do, and left.

Now, without the weight of the pistol and its responsibility, he let himself think about the black lace trimming Charlie’s breasts. She looked just like his daughter’s friend Chickie, and this thought both plagued and haunted Dan every time he saw her on his calls. Chickie’s little doppelgänger, he’d thought as he saw her striding toward him in a spaghetti-strap dress, the weight of her breasts, the curve of her ass.

Dan closed the bathroom door behind him. He hadn’t changed out of his uniform, wanted to feel the cold dangle of his handcuffs a little. Chickie, in Charlie’s black dress, pulling up the thin hem, pulling down her panties. He remembered the massage parlor, as he did during these moments—that hole-in-the-wall where his father took him for his first time. Those red lips, the mix of humiliation and the sheer pleasure of an orgasm with a live girl, the warm flesh beneath his hands, its softness and its salty taste. Chickie and her wet lips.

“Dad, what the fuck?” The door pushed against him abruptly, the knob jamming into his back as he climaxed.

He looked in the mirror and saw his daughter and Chickie, covering her face. “Oh my god.”

He turned quickly, realizing they’d seen enough in the mirror. He shut the door, locked it, pushed his back against it, holding up his pants. Maybe they’d seen only a bit, he reasoned, zipping up and clearing his throat.



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