Five Miles to Paradise

15

And that's when her troubles began. Zinnia's relationship with Robbie heated up after her return home from work the next night. He'd been waiting for her by her doorway.

He picked up her mail the next day as it was being delivered to her door, posing as the tenant who lived there. With a bag of groceries as a prop, Robbie had 'accidentally bumped' into the harried mail carrier outside the apartment. 

Keys in hand and groceries strewn across the walk, Robbie had apologized profusely and in less than two minutes had Zinnia's mail in the bag with the recollected groceries. 

They were married by a justice of the peace a short time later. Robbie had been persistent. He wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. And he was so sweet. Zinnia was finally worn down and accepted his proposal.

Two months into her marriage, Zinnia discovered her good name and credit had been destroyed by her husband. He had borrowed money from all her friends, and it seemed he owed every bookie in town.

Robbie would take off for days, always with some lame explanation, and always Zinnia had forgiven him. She wondered if he had a girlfriend. The only time she'd mustered her courage and asked him, he'd left her with a broken nose and a blackened eye.

What Robbie had done to her was criminal. Robbie was a user. If he had been successful in his scheme, Zinnia knew that she would be the one pushing up daises right this minute. Not Robbie.

Now, Robbie was dead. But not by her hand. They'd let Robbie out of jail, and he immediately went back to his old habits and haunts. 

He'd been stabbed in a back alley shooting dice. Robbie kept begging Lady Luck to smile down on him, praying at the Altar of Avarice, throwing those hard, little cubes, and losing. Apparently, he was so drunk, he'd forgotten he was playing with one of the meanest street mongrels ever born, Joey 'Merc' Perrou.

Joey Merc, like the metal mercury, was heavy, quick, and toxic and like so many of the kids who'd grown up in the streets at the turn of the century, he was ruthless and cunning. It was said that the big, hulking thug had no remorse or sympathy. His heart was as cold as a corpse. When you looked into Joey Merc's eyes, it was like gazing into the black emptiness of a bottomless grave.

Anyone one with half a grain of sense knew not to cross Joey Merc.

Time passed, and it was such a lop-sided game, Joey Merc lost interest. There was no sport in gambling with a drunk. Joey Merc decided it was time to collect his debts. 

He had an itch in his britches, and if he could find Austine, Q'Milla, or Mary Bess walking the streets, he'd have some luscious red nails to scratch it.

But when Joey Merc demanded that Robbie shill out the $47.00 owed him, Robbie stuck his hands in his pockets. The drunk handed over 39 cents.

If it all had not been so ridiculous, Joey Merc would have laughed.

"Ah'm short, Joey," Robbie managed to say.

Joey Merc looked at the pitiful specimen of humanity. There was something so evil in his gaze that Robbie looked away. He was quickly sobering up.

"I need a liddle time, man. Jes' a week o' so, Joey. I'm good for the money. I'll get it from Zin. She keeps a stash 'a cash 'round the place. I'm good for it, I tell ya."

But Joey Merc was in no mood to wait.

"Please, Joey. Please . . ."

Robbie did not feel the blade penetrate his rib cage, but he felt heat and sear when Joey Merc twisted its handle and pulled the knife from Robbie's bleeding chest.

Robbie fell to the ground, his blood mixing with the filth and trash in the alley.

Good riddance, Zinnia thought, and she yanked at a particularly large tangle in her hair.