Maya’s teeth gnashed against each other, her hand trying to stop the bleeding that seeped out of the wound on her side. She wanted to cry out in pain, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Maya couldn’t quit; she still wasn’t fucking finished yet. The living room of the Beverly Hills mansion was dotted with holes and spattered with blood, like a chaotic connect-the-dots picture some kid decided to bleed all over. Three bodies in suits laid crumpled on the floor among the shell casings. Maya walked, her legs moving like she downed a bottle of Grey Goose; each step less assured, less force. She just wanted to hang on for a little while longer.
A bullet smacked the wall, plaster hitting Maya’s face. She dropped and turned, another fool emptying his gun like a stormtrooper. Maya raised her gun, steady aim with a hand slick with blood. She fired twice. The guy fell like a rag doll.
“Gotta do better than that, Robert,” Maya yelled. She walked towards the stairs; she could see the door to the office was opened. She climbed up, slowly; her shoulders started to feel heavy like she was carrying a weighted bag.
“Come on, Robert,” Maya said. “You don’t wanna see the cunt you tried to drop? Yeah, I know that’s what you called me. I wasn’t out of it when your thugs attacked me.” The legs were heavy now, each step like climbing through snow.
“Set me up, right? Do your dirty work and then kill the girl, leave her on the street.” Maya made it to the top of the carpeted summit. “Got it wrong, motherfucker.” She went towards the open door; everything was slightly leaning now. The office looked out at the Los Angeles skyline, the twinkling lights of the City of Angels burned brightly tonight. Robert stood there, tall and majestic in his dark blue suit and red tie. No matter the moment he always believed that you gotta look good- first impressions were always key.
“Here I am,” Maya said. “Nice welcoming party you had downstairs.” Robert fished out his cigarette case, gold platted, and lit one with a gold zippo.
“I have to say congrats; didn’t think you actually make it back.”
“A girl wants what she wants.”
“And what do you want?”
Maya didn’t speak, her eyes stayed lock on Robert’s grey eyes.
Robert said, “Your dumbass should’ve known it was a set-up. Would I honestly send a barfly wash-up to snuff a two-bit no dick piece of garbage and just walk away like that? Your ass was mine the moment you got in over ninety-grand with me. Better to just have you whack a guy and be taken out of your misery.”
“That no-dick was your fucking rival. ‘The heaviest cat on the west coast’, one of your boys said after they put a bullet in me. And you’re right, I’m a barfly wash-up, that’s why I didn’t piece it together until I got there, in the shit.”
Robert took a drag and blew a thick stream of smoke. “I guess not all jarheads are dumb. You’re still not walking out of here.”
Maya moved forward, a trail of red behind her. “I never had a chance, did I?”
Robert shook his head and took in another gulp of smoke. “We never really have a chance. Gotta pay the piper when he comes knockin. Guess it’s time to finish this.” Robert crushed his cigarette and sighed.
Maya fired, the bullet went straight through Robert’s gut. His face turned from shock to resignation. Each bullet tore through him and his nice suit. Maya emptied her gun into him, still pulling the trigger long after he fell dead on the ground. The world was turning white now, the legs buckled. Maya fell, all sound faded away, she felt lighter now. Robert was right, there never was a chance.
~ fin ~
Sean O‘Grady is a Southern California desert rat currently living in the land of the morning calm called South Korea. He’s an English teacher and enjoys writing about criminals and screw-ups just trying to survive and make a buck. His work has been published on Pulp Metal Magazine and he is currently working on his first novel. More of his short stories can be found at seanogradyblog.wordpress.
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