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So the fan let it drop. And the pounding rooms remained. Probably still do in some places.
Veronica Lake giggled. It was not a pretty sound. “Care to dance, dreamboat?” he-she asked again.
“Let's wait for a slow song,” Myron said.
A third cross-dresser stepped into the room. A redhead. He-she looked a lot like Bo
“Where's Schneider?” Myron asked.
No reply.
Veronica Lake said, “Stand up, dreamboat.”
“The blood on the floor,” Myron said.
“What?”
“It's a nice touch, but it's overkill, don't you think?”
Veronica Lake lifted her right foot and pulled on her heel. It came off. Sort of. The heel was a covering actually. A sheath. For a steel blade. Veronica showed it to Myron with an impressive display of martial art high kicks, the blade gleaming in the light.
Bo
Myron kept the fear at bay and looked steadily at Veronica Lake. “Are you new at cross-dressing?” he asked.
Veronica stopped kicking. “What?”
“I mean, aren't you taking the whole stiletto heel thing too far?”
Not his best joke, but anything to stall. Veronica looked at Mall Girl. Mall Girl looked at Bo
The three spread out, making fists. Bo
Myron's heart was pounding now. More blood. Jesus Christ. Something ^bout seeing your own blood. His breathing was too fast. Keep cool he reminded himself. Think.
He faked left to the spot where Bo
That was when Myron felt his heart stop.
There was a zapping sound and the back of his knee exploded. Myron spun in pure agony. His body jolted. Searing pain burst out of the nerve bundle behind the knee and traveled everywhere in an electric surge. He looked behind him. Bo
“That was the lowest setting,” Bo
Myron looked up, trying to stop his body from quaking. Veronica lifted his leg and placed the heel blade near his face. One quick stomp and he was done. Bo
Now what?
Bo
He focused on the cattle prod and how to avoid experiencing its wrath again. “I was asking about someone,” he said.
Mall Girl had recovered. She-he stood up over him holding her-his face. “He hit me!” Her tone was a little deeper now, the shock and hurt dropping the feminine facade a bit.
Myron stayed still.
“You bitch!”
Mall Girl grimaced and threw a kick as though Myron's rib cage were a football. Myron saw the kick coming, saw the heel blade, saw the cattle prod, closed his eyes, and let it land.
He fell back.
Bo
No secret. “Clu Haid.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to know if he'd been here.”
“Why?”
Telling them he was looking for his killer might not be the wisest course of action, especially if said killer was in the room. “He was a client of mine.”
“So?”
“Bitch!” It was Mall Girl again. Another kick. It again landed on the bottom tip of the rib cage and hurt like hell. Myron swallowed away some bile that had worked its way up. He looked through the one-way glass again. Still no Big Cyndi. Blood flowed from the knife wounds to his chest and leg. His insides still trembled from the electric shock. He looked into the eyes of Veronica Lake. The calm eyes. Win had them too. The great ones always do.
“Who do you work for?” Bo
“No one.”
“Then why would you care if he came here?”
“I'm just trying to put some things together,” he said.
“What things?”
“Just general stuff.”
Bo
Panic squeezed Myron's gut. “Wait-”
“No, I think not.” Bo
Myron's eyes widened. No choice really. He had to try it now. If the prod hit him again, he'd have nothing left. He just had to hope Veronica would not kill him.
He had been pla
He went instead for the one-way glass.
His legs had pushed off full throttle, propelling him rocket-ship fashion toward the glass. By the time his three captors realized what he was doing, it was too late. Myron squeezed his eyes shut, made two fists, and hit the glass with his full weight, Superman style. He held nothing back. If the glass did not give, he was a dead man.
The glass shattered on impact.
The sound was enormous, all-consuming. Myron flew through it, glass clattering to the floor around him. When he landed, he tucked himself into a tight ball. He hit the floor and rolled. Tiny shards of mirror bit into his skin. He ignored the pain, kept rolling, crashing hard into the bar. Bottles fell.
Big Cyndi had talked about the place's reputation. Myron was counting on that. And the Take A Guess clientele did not disappoint.
A pure New York melee ensued.
Tables were thrown. People screamed. Someone flew over the bar and landed on top of Myron. More glass shattered. Myron tried to get to his feet, but it wasn't happening. From his right, he saw a door open. Mall Girl emerged.
“Bitch!'”
Mall Girl started toward him, carrying Bo
And then Mall Girl disappeared.
It was like a scene from a cartoon, where the big dog punches Sylvester the Cat, and Sylvester flies across the room and the oversize fist stays there for a few seconds.
In this case the oversize fist belonged to Big Cyndi.
Bodies flew. Glasses flew. Chairs flew. Big Cyndi ignored it all. She scooped Myron up and threw him over her shoulder like a firefighter. They rushed outside as police sirens clawed through the milky night air.