Sympathy for the Devil

part three

A week had gone by, and today finally felt like Bill and Star were on to something. Though there were still plenty of hiccups through the week due to Star being impulsive. A few nights ago, he had to tell her when she's getting the urge, "to count to ten for god's sake". Finally feeling comfortable with his act, he didn't even need Star to help him dress up this morning. He wore his Levi jeans with a denim shirt to match. The buttons only did halfway, showing off his bare chest and gold chain. It felt like he had a good grasp of his role in this game, today. He was looking over his notepad, filled with pages of addresses now. Circling the ones he felt were most important while he was sitting in the parked Pinto waiting while Star worked her corner. He glanced at his wrist watch, 13 minutes, had gone by and Star hadn't gotten out of the alley yet. He set his notepad down, listening to Rebel, Rebel by David Bowie, staring at the alley. Growing worried, he looked at his watch again, 30 seconds... then 3, 2, 1... shit.

Bill got out the car, popping his collar up, and taking long strides across the street to the alley. This particular jawn he came to know as, Green Granada, the car he drove. He was a frequent regular. From the back window of the Granada, he could see Star was struggling to get out as she yanked the door handle. Bill reached to the front of his waistband curling his fingers around the handle of his gun as he approached. He tapped the glass with the barrel, startling the jawn as he tried to cover himself. Bill glanced away from the sight giving the guy time to shove it back in his pants. When he looked back the stout fella looked like he was going shit himself, if he hadn't already.

"Unlock the fucking door now," Bill said through his teeth, bring his face close to his gun staring down the man through the window.

With a trembling stumpy finger, the jawn hit his auto unlock button, Star nearly falling out as soon as it was open. "Fucking limp dick asshole!" She yelled.

Bill still pointing his gun at Green Granada, moved his wrist in a small circle, to get him to roll the window down. "If I see you on this block again, I'll shoot you in the fucking kneecap, you hear me?" The man gulped unable to speak. Bill glanced above the hood and asked Star if she got paid. She shook her head still a little shook up herself. Bill held his free hand out collecting the money. "What are you still doing here? Get the fuck out of here!" The Granada quickly reversed out the alley, nearly getting hit and getting several honks, but the man never looked back at them once.

"Thanks," Star said fixing her dress back to her body and putting her curls back in place. Bill quickly tucked his gun away, he couldn't believe he just did that. Threatening a man with his life? He didn't know he had it in him and quite frankly it scared him.

"Are you okay?" He hooked a hand around her elbow helping her across the street.

"Hey!" She abruptly yelled. "Keep movin' I see you checkin' that radio!" She yelled at a kid peering through the car windows on their Pinto. The kid froze up in the act of getting caught.

"You heard her! Get!" Bill said and the kid bolted. He shook his head getting into the car.

"Sorry about all that back in the alley. I was trying to get out." She said to him lighting a cigarette.

"I saw. Are you okay, though?"

"Yeah," she exhaled smoke. "Al's been kinda weird since his divorce. He can't get his cock up, I try to help, but he just likes it when I watch," she shrugged. "But today," she whistled the little falling anvil tune, "it just sat in his hand all floppy and he was blaming me for it."

"Jesus Christ," Bill rubbed his eyes with one hand. "I got his plate number. I'm gonna make sure his worthless ass gets a ticket for something." He said pulling out of his parking spot and into the street.