They were smart, they moved on. It was just a little peak. He wouldn't fault them for that. But there was a new goon in town who called himself Dexter.
He stared and kept staring. And Jack felt him heating up from all the way across the club. "Hey! Yes there she is!" Jack said loudly enough to be heard. "The infamous Amelie West. You enjoying her, pal?" Dexter started to say yes, then realized his mistake.
"No. No way. That's your lady Jack." Yet he couldn't help but take another look at the woman, before turning back. "I mean you an' me, we do a helluva Lotta business. I ain't messin' that up." Then he fell silent and looked at the floor, no doubt hoping that would satisfy Jack.
Jack stood and stared at the man. "Are you saying you don't like her?" He said. "Maybe your saying you hate her." Jack leaned in, and the man tried to push back, but there was a wall behind him. "What do you have against her?" The man waved his hands in protest. "C'mon man." The goon stammered.
"What am I gonna say brother, there ain't a right answer." Jack turned to Amelie who was still dancing, and whistled to her She cartwheeled off the stage and joined them. "Puddin." She said grinning.
Dexter knew what was coming next. She was gonna tear him into little pieces. Or worse. Jack pattern the man on the shoulder and smiled. Dexter flinched. "Looney toon. It's been a good run 'til now, but you're my gift to this gentleman. You belong to him." The man stared. What the hell game was the man playing? The woman ground her way onto the man's lap and gave an approving nod. "This guy. Cool." She brought her face close to his. "You know your cute," She said. "So you want me? I'm all yours lover."
She rested her hand on his thigh. The man couldn't stop sweating as his gaze went back and forth between Amelie and Jack. He knew he was caught between two psychopaths but he didn't know if they left him any sort of exit strategy. "Jack." The man said, pleading with psychopath number one.
"I don't want no beef."
Jack stretched his arms and yawned. "Then accept my gift. I'm sick of her," He said as he pulled out his purple .45 from his pocket and held it out.
"Or better, shoot her. Push her hair right on back with a bullet. Either way, do me the favor please." Amelie caressed the man's face and gave him a series of small pecks. It felt really good, he thought, but then he shook himself back into reality. The gun hovered there in jack's hand.
"Right between my eyes loverboy," She said, poking her index finger just above her nose. "In the good ol' glabella. It'll be like confetti when it comes out."
The man had to take the gun. If he didn't Jack would surely shoot him, even with West sitting in his lap for the whole club to see. So he accepted it.
"Say thank you"
"Thank you," he replied. This had to be a joke, but they'd already taken it serious. A shot rang out in the club. Jack shot the man with his other gun. Blood and gunk spewed small specks on Amelie's face. "Smart guy," Jack said then he laughed. "Lotta brains." Amelie squeled with delight as she fingered some of the Smart- guyness off her face. She leaned into Jack for a big kiss but he pulled back. "This is on you. That guy made me alot of money. We're leaving."
"Puddin', it's not my fault I make myself look so good for you only other guys can wish and stare 'cause they're so jealous. I mean you should think as them honoring your taste in babes--and I am your babe aren't I, sugar?"
Jack grabbed her by the arm, and Amelie squeaked as he dragged her away from the club. "Yeah, you are, but you keep pushing me and one of these days your gonna cross the line, Amelie."
"Then what sugar?"
Jack laughed and grabbed the woman by her waist, bringing her close to him. "I dunno. We'll draw ourselves another line and another, and probably cross them too."
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