RHAPSODY IN BLUE

ACT 5: CLOSE BUT NO CIGAR

As quietly as he could, Harry slipped off his shoes and removed a shoelace.  He wrapped it tightly between his hands and prepared. One of the lackies was headed towards his hiding place.

He slipped into a tightly-angled, shadowed corner and waited for him to pass. He consciously slowed his breathing and focused on his task.

 As he appeared in front of him, Harry slipped the lace around his throat and deftly tightened.

The man struggled mightily, but eventually the lack of oxygen and his constricted jugular made his eyes roll up into his skull, and he was out.   Harry then snapped his neck like a twig.

Four more, he thought. 

Three bullets.

"Carl?  -Carl, where are ya', ya numbskull?!"

Two of them were rapidly headed his way.  As they appeared around his corner he fired two bullets. Each found their mark in their skulls.

"–What the fuck?" 

Two men were running towards his position, with their guns drawn.

His last bullet went through one of the men's throat. The other goon tried to fire and it clicked...

The gun was jammed.

He tackled him and slammed his head repeatedly into the concrete floor, cracking his skull and killing him.

He sat there for awhile, allowing the gravity of what had just happened to fully sink in.

All those men and every one of them was dead, his partners and enemies alike.

He grabbed one of the goons' guns and stealthily checked out the rest of the place. He wouldn't make the same mistake these morons had.

Just as he'd thought. Everyone dead. Except him. Saved by a jammed gun.

He looked a mess. His shirt was ripped to shreds. He had a cut on his eyebrow where he'd head-butted one of the goons.  His clothing was stained with blood of the men he'd dispatched and from his own gunshot wound and he was drenched in the sweat of adrenalin. 

At least he'd stopped bleeding.

He stepped out into the night relieved that it was raining. It cooled his head and soothed his wounds. He walked aimlessly, still trying to comprehend his close call.

The streets were completely empty. It must have been late.

####

Eva paced in Harry's place wringing her hands.  Her imagination conjured all kinds of ways the mob could hurt, torture, and ultimately kill him.

If he were dead, she'd never see hide nor hair of him ever again.  

####

Somehow, he was in front of his apartment. He turned the key and doorknob and opened his front door. A stunning but worried looking Evangeline stood in the middle of the room.

"–I knew you'd look beautiful in it."

"You're alive..." 

She ran to him and touched his hair and face, making sure he was real.

They stared at each other for a moment and then began to passionately kiss.

Eva was shedding what was left of his shirt from his shoulders.  Harry was fumbling at the zipper on her dress.

Somehow they ended up in Harry's bedroom. Harry gave up on the zipper and simply ripped it the rest of the way down her back.

She stood unashamed in her underthings.