To Love In Sin

Part 1: Just Another Night

It had started off as just another cold night in New York City. A torrential frigid rain hammered down on the skulking gutter rats festering in their alleyways. Somewhere beneath the exhaust pipe ambiance and the swelling sound of sirens I could almost hear that faint familiar song. That last chord in the maddening shroud of the drunkard's melancholic tune. All the while the civilized folk scurried away, all as if a little water would wash away the masks that hid their crueler nature.

The last seven years had been hard on my city. In a time when most would sell their own flesh and blood for a meagre morsel, somehow, more and more were casting aside their civility to simply sate their sins. Husbands chose the bottle over their own, children rummaged for scraps in the trash, while wives and daughters turned to the trade just for a penny. A pretty picture to say the least. But after ten years on the force, I had seen it all. So as far as I could tell, it was just another day in New York City.

In the beginning, filled with that youthful idealism that had ruined so many before me, I had thought I could change things if I had gone out on my own. A private eye for hire, or at least for anyone with the right sort of job that could make a difference. After being on the force, and having seen the best broken before by the weight of red tape and backroom politics, I had blamed the system that had broken them. When the cold truth at the bottom of the barrel was that it didn't matter what form it took, cruelty, cruelty was just a part of the human condition.

So after a few months the little jobs had not been enough anymore. After you chase down enough booze hounds and mistresses the lackluster of it all soon becomes pretty clear. In the face of mundane reality, you start looking for something more, you start looking for a cliché. A fantasy like one from the stories because reality just isn't good enough anymore. You think some damsel in distress will walk through your door, you'll solve her case, and be the hero. One of those, get the girl kind of scenarios. That had been exactly what I was looking for when she walked through my door.

Her named was Scarlet May, and she was all the right kinds of wrong. A drop dead knockout who knew just how pretty she was. The type of girl that could play you out of every cent before you even knew you had opened your wallet. She had one of those thousand-yard stares that told you she had seen enough in her life, enough to call her anything but innocent. A sultry sort of smile beneath two sad eyes that made no apologies. Then, somewhere between her perfect curves, there were a hundred hidden bruises from hard lovers and lonely mistakes. Little did I know it, I had already taken the case before she even said a word.

"Detective Johnathan Hart?" she softly asked stepping in from the hall.

The nicotine filled my lungs as I took the half smoked cigarette from my lips, "The one and only. But no one's called me Detective since I was working out of the precinct. It's just Johnny now. And you are?"

"Scarlet May," she declared closing the door behind her. "I'm sorry if I am interrupting anything. I was told by a friend you might be able to help."

Old habits kicked in as a I studied her reactions, the twitches on her face, and the dancing blacks of her eyes. All of it seemed steady, too steady, all as if she had practiced the lines for weeks before. Her finger wouldn't stop tapping against the skin tight dress that hugged her thighs, and her gaze kept shifting back towards the hall. There were a dozen signs that told me to say no before she even sat down, but beauty is blinding.

Needless to say, there was no resisting the itch for the cliché, "Take a seat Miss May."

"It's Mrs. May, if you please," she corrected taking a seat without taking her eyes off the prize. "I apologize if my demeanour seems off putting. I've simply...well, I've never done anything like this before."