Who Is Brian Quinn?

A Man to Whom I Owe a Great Deal...

Madge stood in the hallway behind the stage, lips plump and slightly open. This was her second visit using the ring and she wanted some answers.

Daphne stood at the end of the hall, light at her back from the open door of the dressing room.

Madge glanced over her shoulder. A giant of a man loomed up in the hallway behind her. Turning, Madge could see the extensive shadows cast by his jaw, spreading towards her over the worn hard wood of the hallway.

"You got a date with the gimp," he said like his mouth were full of gravel. He emitted a grotesque growl mixed with cotton mouth accompanied by a slight lisp. He coughed and swung his great billowing overcoat open to reveal a long black gun shinning like licorice set against his hip. His giant knuckled fingers rested on the butt of the weapon as though made from the same metal.

Daphne scampered off, heels clicking. Madge breathed an affirmative and walked back along the dark corridor.

The room was bathed in a deep red light from lamps and hanging Chinese lanterns. Leo lounged at the periphery of her vision in his blue blazer and red tie, smoking a cigarette leaning on a thick blonde who leered from a mask of brittle makeup and violent lipstick.

Madge felt her g-string suddenly get hot against her skin, as though the blood were rushing from her extremities. The gimp, she thought. She held very few notions as to what he might look like. Perhaps a disfigured mutant, or maybe a horrible accident had marked him for life making him a monster. She glanced back at the door. The huge man with the gun stood in the doorway his hands on his hips lips rolling a toothpick about his mouth. Can't get much more monstrous than that, she thought. Suddenly her mind filled with thoughts of Reggie. His great meaty hands, white palmed and holding her face like the paws of a gentle bear. His warm breath on her cheeks, chest like a steel drum, the heart inside pounding away like a hammer.

She exhaled and gazed into the depths of the room. The back wall veiled in semi-darkness a figure sat hunched, small like a child, feet sticking out over the edge of the vinyl seat. When he spoke his voice sounded like clear rushing water, a crystal spring bubbling from a crevice in a rock. "I'm sorry my dear, I should have summoned you earlier. Come closer."

She approached feeling her way over the thick shag carpet that covered the floor like a beige sea of glistening fur. Looking down she noticed it seemed to ripple and sway like a ripe field of wheat.

"My dear you're shaking," he said.

She moved toward him and he took her hands. From the darkness she could see his tiny eyes, features like a doll, his fingers like a child's. On his fingers shone bright gold rings. A midget, she thought with a quick intake of breath. The gimp. Not a monster but a child, a little man with a voice like glass. He wore a tailored dinner jacket with an elegant white tie knotted tightly, expertly as though by mice.

"Evie, you've nothing to worry about," he cooed. "Nothing at all. You're with us. Yesterday's incident is over and done with. You acted bravely my dear. You did the right thing."

Did I? She wondered. She remembered the fiery blast of the gun in her coat pocket, the burst of smoke and burnt fur, the man's chest opening up and blood gushing. Those eyes burned into her mind, tiny white flecked irises empty and cold.

The gimp tilted his head and scanned the rolling landscape of her body with one swift look. "I expect nothing less of my girls. A heart of pure gold. And now," he said with a light in his eye, "Now I've got a job for you. Something easy. Something you've done before." He smiled sweetly and squeezed her hands in his.

Madge glanced at his delicate hands. She saw it on his pinky. The ring. The one she'd found in the old shoe Reggie kept in the closet. The ring she'd used to get here. It seemed impossible. Madge glanced down at her finger. As she expected, no ring. She inhaled abruptly and looked up at him.

"Something wrong?"

"No," she breathed.

He patted her hand and smiled. "Good. You'll be fine. You're a good girl. I am entrusting this to you my dear. A small gift, for a client of ours. A man to whom I owe a great deal." His eyes sparkled. "You'll find him on the floor at a table," he gestured toward the noisy club, the dim sounds of music and laughter filtering in from the hall. "Seated at the back. He wears a gray suit, a bit disheveled. I'm sure you'll recognize him. I want you to give him this."

Removing his hands from hers he dipped his fingers into a small pocket in the interior of his jacket. He pulled out a wad of tin foil and unwrapped it to reveal a small blue pill. He placed it in her palm.