Giddyup for STAR

I stopped my rant and held my breath, waiting for the explosion. I figured she’s pull a MAC 10 hidden somewhere on her lovely but formidable chassis and that would be all for me. But at least I’d told her the truth, and that was worth something.

But was it worth dying for? Maybe the truth is the only thing worth dying for.

But I didn’t die. Instead, she started crying. Why do women do that? It’s the dirtiest oldest trick in the book to turn on the waterworks like that. Here I was good and mad, and ready for a fight, and she starts crying.

I’ll tell you why they do it. Because it works, that’s why. I went from fighting mad to caring and protective in less time than it takes a crooked yellow light to go red in an intersection with a red light camera. I got up from my chair and went around the desk to give her a hug.

I’m not entirely stupid, I did protect my ribs, testicles, and eyes on the approach, but she didn’t make any hostile moves, so I finished my careful approach and took her into my arms. She smelled of gun oil and Chanel No 5, my favorite combination. The indigestion was back, but now I wasn’t so sure about it being a little left over pizza on my stomach; maybe it was something else, something a bit more serious.

It could be an ulcer.

Her sobs caused her generous curves to move softly against me, moving my thoughts and my body into a somewhat different mode, less comforting and more errr active. As I pondered my next move, I felt the unmistakable bulge of a shoulder holster imprinting itself on my chest, as well as what felt like a hip holster digging into my groin area.

I quickly readjusted my groin, chest, and thoughts into a more comfortable, and comforting position.

Eventually, her tears dried up, and she was able to speak. I pulled up a chair for her, and then moved back around to the safe side of the desk and sat down.

“Sorry about that’, she said. “I almost never cry like that, but I know my brother didn’t kill himself, and if you don’t help me,I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“A girl with a body like yours and a right hook to boot can get a long way in this town without any help. What do you need me for.”

“You’ve been inside the business. You know where the bodies are buried,and which rocks hide the slimiest slugs. You have the best chance to find out what happened to my brother. You say you don’t believe he was murdered, but I know he was. I just know it!”

“What makes you so sure? What do you know that the police don’t? And don’t give me the same guff about ‘He wouldn’t do that…he just wouldn’t’ because believe me, honey, he would.”

She didn’t hit me for calling her honey. I thought that marked an improvement in our relationship. The truth was I’d accidentally called her by her real name.

Yeah,a blond named Honey. Go figure.

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