That expression of his had never failed to bother Angie, always making her want to cut it off with the knife she had kept in her shoe since the age of 15.
Angie wiped the spittle off her chin and without turning her head to face Damon’s tall, musical body said, “Well I guess you aren’t quite the watchdog you like to the tell the whores you play with that you are.” She had always been good at making Damon mad as hell but tonight he was so drunk he would have fought with her just to see her bleed.
“C-nt!” Damon yelled, the t hanging off his tongue without quite getting out from his bourbon scented mouth.
Angie turned around so fast no one else saw her move, “you wanna call me that to my face, you motherf-cking fag-t? Cause I’d love to hear you say that again.”
Angie pushed her wooden chair to the side, its feet squealing against the floor. Her long brown hair fell over her left shoulder, framing her soft creamy skin whose only mark of humanity was a scar along her check from the one time Damon had caught Angie off her guard as she lay in the tub soaking her shore body, her round breasts floating as if to touch the bubbles on the water’s surface. Angie touched her inner thigh, her long deep red nails lingering as she drew her slender hand up her thigh to rest next to the one place Damon’s twisted mind wanted to be right now. Damon took the three long strides to crouch next to Angie, his right hand brushing the top of her hand as his left hand grasped Angie’s small throat, “Would you like to see just how big a fag-t I am, Angie?”
She licked her lips and tilted her head to make her long hair touch Damon’s hand, “Now, now don’t be such a bastard. I came all the way from Portland to finish our business.”
Damon bent into Angie to kiss her glossy red lips but Angie’s knee met his groin and he crumpled to the floor, her foot on his neck before anyone could breath.
“Listen very closely Damon, I’m not here to play with you. I am here to finish what you started.” Angie ground her foot into Damon’s neck until a satisfactory amount of spittle had accumulated around Damon’s mouth, “I can appreciate with that stupidity of yours, you didn't realize I was not the kind of woman to f-ck over like the rest of the morons you like to play bad with. But breaking into my home goes beyond dumb, shit head.”
Angie lifted her foot and let Damon stand up, dusting himself off. Damon’s normally handsome face was red with anger. “Do you really think I’m someone you can just check off your list? Sweetie I’ve been at this since you were in pigtails.”
Both Damon and Angie lunged with their knifes drawn, a knife at each other’s throats. They stood gazing into eyes so filled with rage anyone else would have run as quickly as piss in the wind to get away, anyone else. Angie’s grey eyes burnet with anger, her checks flushed with the adrenalin. Damon’s deeply tanned face was so dark his brown eyes popped from his face in an incredibly disturbing manner.
“You’ve gotten faster,” Damon said.
“No, I just never let you know how good I was,” Angie said, her eyes laughing at another mental triumph over the moron standing in front of her so intent on slicing her throat.
“I see two options, we both back off or I can see just how good you are, dear,” Damon said to Angie, her hair damp against her sweaty forehead.
“You stupid c-nt,” Damon screamed as he clutched his bleeding head and quicker than the devil in heaven, Angie sliced his neck in three places.
“I want you to remember this before you loose too much blood. We are not even and I never showed you how good I was. I’m taking the gift and if I ever hear of you trying to visit me before or after the arrival, I don’t’ care if I’m nine fucking months along I will start with that limp little dick of yours and won’t finish for hours.”
Damon stared at Angie’s long body, counting the odds of killing her. But as the blood poured out of his body, pooling until rivers of red streamed toward the chairs and tables Damon’s mind fell away and only blackness remained. In the blackness he thought of a face but that too faded into nothingness. Angie kicked his motionless body, her lips curling into a satisfied sneer; she was done. Never again would she have to enter this twisted city, the place she hated to visit because of all the filth and stupidity that lived within the city’s inter-walls. With her black-heeled boots clicking upon the stone floor Angie walked out the door of McMurry’s, the owner still watching her; wondering if this was the woman’s, that most deadly woman his city ever made, final visit. Though her name varied the way survivors spoke of her face was always the same; the cruel doubtless certainty in her eyes and the speed with which her enemies, whether earned by deed or payment, fell to her hand.
She was a creature made for death and what such a thing would do with life was sure to prove an interesting fate. This woman’s occupation meant a lifetime was a short journey. Her leaving that world behind could never guarantee her a longer journey, but if the rumors on the black-tarred streets were true McMurry didn’t think she had had much of a choice. Whatever the reasons, she had gone and the city felt safer for it. McMurry went to Damon, checking for life, knowing his bar would now have a story more colorful than its owner’s.