Steel Mittens

I bang on the door. The whole block reeks of alcohol. All the houses appear grim and cheap. The cobblestone road has old newspapers all over. A man walks by wearing a fedora and trench coat. He's smoking a cigar. Mark Connolly. A copper. Great. I'll have to be quick in my get away. Lowering my hat, I watch him go down the road. He does not see me.

The door opens. A man stands before me. Sam Fole. My target. "What do ya want?" He's exasperated. But he does not see me. Confused he looks down. His face pales. "Steel Mittens."

I hold my cigarette in my paw. "Relax Sam. I'm here to be social. See." I lift my paws up to show they are empty, minus my cigarette. "Wanna be blotto."

"You're never blotto." Sam rasps. "Tell your boss I'll pay him back next week."

"Easy Sam. I'm an honest cat. I just want to talk. Now are you going to be a good boy and let me in?"

He steps aside and closes the door behind me. We go to the study. It's a dark room with dark furniture. The shades are pulled down. It smells of smoke. "Got any of the hard stuff?" Sam opens the safe. Pulling out a bottle of whiskey, he pours us a glass. "Thatta boy. Your mama would be proud." I take a shot. The window behind the desk would be perfect.

"Look, I don't want to cause trouble." Sam fidgets in his chair.

"Drink your whiskey. You're on edge, Sam."

His breath quickens. Looks like I won't get to enjoy my whiskey. "Steel. Please tell your boss I'll pay the money back. Next week! I promise."

I sigh. "Let me tell you something, Sam." Putting my glass down I reach for the heater in my coat pocket. "Quinn is a busy man. It's hard work to run a business see. And it is bad business to allow just anyone get away with his money." I cock the rod. "How have you slip past his boys for this long? Oh well." I stand. "Those goons couldn't hit the side of a barn." I point my rod at him. "Say goodnight, Sam."

He dies instantly. Getting on all four of my paws, I dash out the window. Them coppers won't ever find me. Who would believe a cat could be a hire? The alley I usually go down to get to Quinn's is unusually dark for this time of night. The fire exit feels colder. It's quiet. The boys must not have any dolls. I knock.

Baby John opens the door. "Ah, Steel Mittens. You're expected."

"Hey Baby John. How's your mama?"

"I don't have no mama." He hands me a glass of brandy.

"That's too bad. What about your brother?"

"Away at college." His eyes dart to the wood door down the room. "Quinn's waiting for you. Be quick about it. He and the moll want to be alone tonight."

"As soon as I get my dough I'll leave."

I head to Quinn's office. Quinn's boys greet me as I go by. Lounging on the couches and drinking. The smoke from their cigars hang in the air. I figure they are preparing for a heist. Bad Boy Jack and Silent Joe are cleaning the gats. Quinn takes a minute to answer his door.

"Didn't I say to stay clear of this door?" he howlers before he notices me. "Steel Mittens."

"Quinn." I nod.

"Well?"

I take a sip of the brandy. The moll on Quinn's desk catches my eye. "Sam's mother wanted me to thank you for the flowers."

"Did she? Was there any trouble with the florist?"

"None at all."

"Excellent." He grins. I cannot help but gaze at the scar over his eye. How could any doll kiss that face? "Help yourself, Mittens. Relax tonight." The door begins to close.

"Now wait a minute, Quinn. Aren't you forgetting something?" That crawling feeling of the boys watching us comes on to me. Quinn eyes me. "The dough, Quinn." Quinn raises an eyebrow. "The deal was I do the job and you pay when it's done. The job is done. Now it is time for you to pay me for my services. See."

Quinn rubs his chin. "You've got spunk, cat."

The glass of brandy slips out of my paws and breaks on the floor. Brandy splashes my coat. "What did you call me?"

"Come here, kitty kitty." Quinn grabs me by the scruff. I hiss and claw his hand. He throws me out the nearby open window. I land in garbage. It stinks of rotting food. "It's called a depression, cat!" Quinn yells. "Consider lowering your prices. It'll be good business, yeah?" The window slams shut.

Hissing and growling, I fight out of the garbage. Glass breaks. My fedora is now coated in spoiled milk. Quinn is going to pay. Not just for skimming me, but also for ruining my favorite hat.

I wait a week to plan how I was going to put Quinn on the spot. It needs to be when he's alone. I do not want his boys around. Pacing in my one room apartment, I consider the possibilities. I have filled my room with niceties. Nice catnip grows in front of the window. I have Grandma's china on display. My mother would be pleased.

I know Quinn and his boys like my own family. They go to work on Thursdays. After making some heat with the cops, they drink so much they are sick for days. I'll make my move while the boys are wild. Their noise will hide any sound I make. Munching on the catnip I wait.

The following Thursday, I make my way to Quinn's place. The alley is empty. Drunken singing comes out of Quinn's place. The boys must have been good. Quinn would be in his office alone counting the money as he always is after a good heist. Now's the time.

I go to all fours and scurry up the stairs. The boys are roaring with laughter. Even the outside of the door smells of brandy and whiskey. I leap to the railing and make my way across the windows. It does not matter if the boys see me. They are too drunk to do anything about it.

I finally make it to Quinn's office window. I see him looking rather pleased with himself as he drinks his brown beverage. His desk is covered in mountains of money. Grinning I crawl through the opening. I stealthily head over behind his desk. My heater at the ready. When I am at the same height as the back of his head, I point it at him.

"Alright Quinn. Fun's over." He jumps. He turns. His face goes pale. He trembles. I grin. "That's right. I'm here to collect."

"Steel. What are you doing? How did you-"

"I'm threatening you and taking my dough. See Quinn, I'm stronger than you. You may be bigger, but I'm the more powerful. I don't need my own gang to get what I want. I see what I want and I take it. Now be a good boy and pay up! No funny business either."

"Alright. Alright. Don't get so excited." Quinn grabs a couple of bundles of hundred dollar bills and hands it over.

"Three more bundles!" I press the gun harder onto his head. "Interest, ruining my hat, and a present for my sister."

"Ok! Ok!" He does what I tell him. "Now get out of here, Steel!"

"Nice doing business with you." I go to leave. "By the way, don't send any of your boys to find me. You will regret it if you do. See,"

As I walk away from Quinn's office and light my cigarette, I hear the cops arriving to send Quinn and his boys on vacation. The smoke rises above my head as I chuckle. Guess my brother, Patches Whiskers, got my tip. We make a good team, Patches and me. I work with the gangsters and send tips to my brother when they betray me. Guess that's my way of teaching little boys and girls what not to become...like me.