Tough Luck by Jason Starr

Author:Jason Starr
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Noir Fiction, Mystery & Detective, New York (N.Y.), Hard-Boiled, Fiction, Games, Swindlers and Swindling, Gambling, General
ISBN: 9780375727115
Publisher: San Val
Published: 2002-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

10

IT WAS FIVE in the morning and Mickey still couldn’t fall asleep. Lying in bed, he kept seeing Chris’s dead face in the ski mask, the blood dripping from his mouth.

Finally, he turned on the clock radio next to his bed to WINS all-news radio. There was no news about a robbery in Manhattan Beach and a dead body. Mickey was surprised because he’d thought the old man on the street would call the police right away.

Mickey spent a long time in the shower, staying under the hot water until the skin on his fingers wrinkled. After he got dressed, he listened to the news again in his room for a couple of hours, but there was still nothing about the robbery.

Mickey didn’t feel like sitting through a Broadway show today, but he knew that staying home, waiting to hear something on the news would be torture. Besides, it would be good to see Rhonda again.

As Rhonda had promised, at eleven o’clock she was waiting on the corner of Bedford and J. She looked great in a black miniskirt, black high heels, and a big red sweater belted at the hips. Mickey, in jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt, felt underdressed.

When Rhonda got in Mickey kissed her on the lips, then she ducked down under the dashboard and said, “Drive.”

Mickey headed toward Ocean Avenue.

“My father went out and I’m afraid he’s gonna come back,” she said. “Don’t worry—I won’t make you do this again. I just need to break my father in slowly.” Still bending down, looking up at Mickey, she said, “So how are you?”

“Okay,” Mickey said.

Mickey noticed Rhonda was wearing a different perfume today. He didn’t like it as much as the one she’d worn on Friday.

“Is something wrong?” Rhonda asked.

“No,” Mickey said. “Why?”

“You look kind of tired.”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” Mickey said. “The landlord’s dog.”

“Oh,” Rhonda said. A few seconds later she added, “You’re not mad because I’m hiding from my father, are you?”

“No, not at all.”

Mickey turned right on Ocean Avenue and Rhonda sat up.

“I think we’re safe now,” she said. “Look what I have.”

Rhonda reached into her pocketbook and took out a photograph, and Mickey glanced at it while he was driving. The picture was from Ronny Feldman’s birthday party. Mickey, nine years old, with crooked bangs, was watching Ronny unwrap his presents. Rhonda was standing next to Mickey wearing a light blue party dress with white lace trim. Her face hadn’t changed at all.

“Recognize me?” Rhonda asked.

“That’s incredible,” Mickey said, smiling.

“I wonder if we talked to each other.”

“That would be funny.”

“I think I remember you.”

Mickey stopped smiling, seeing Ralph and Filippo carrying Chris’s body down the staircase.

Putting the photograph away, Rhonda said, “So you excited about your first theater experience?”

“Yeah,” Mickey said, still distracted.

“You really sound it.”

“No, I am—really. I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, like I told you.”

Rhonda went on, talking about her favorite Broadway shows— Pippin, A Chorus Line, Sweeney Todd. Mickey was barely listening. Scenes

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