She held a cigarette, between two of her red tipped fingers, the others wrapped around a glass of bourbon, its amber surface placid, unlike my head. The cigarette burned long, but she didn’t ash it.
She was the wife of my old client, soon to be his widow, and now, the lover of my new client.
“What’s a matter, Jack? Don’t like the company?” she said.
“It’s…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Pulp West to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.