Sunday, December 18, 2022

Don’t Play With It

 The rain made a patter is it bounced in puddles and pooled in trash clogging up the drains and the gutters. She walks without fear in these streets. Diamond so big her bitches tease it must weigh her down but she’ll strike out first and ask questions later. After gouging enough faces on the street, only new blood is dumb enough to mess with her. The men proposition her as she walks. Her head stays tall despite them. Through the rain they call out, offering their bills for just a moment of her time. Her heels click clack on the concrete as she heeds them no mind. She’s here for another sort of business.

She lets herself into a motel that charges by the hour. The desk clerk sizes her up and tells her not to OD because he’s not willing to clean up her shit. She winks and grabs a key. “Do I look like a junkie baby?”

She tosses her purse on the bed and starts to change. Red leather. Boots with three inch heels that protect up to her knees. She leaves her arms bare, mostly because she thinks the outfit is too fucking hot and she wants a space for her skin to breathe. This choice leaves her vulnerable and maybe as the weather turns cold she’ll adjust.

She slides her hands into her gloves and squeezes her fists, flexing and admiring the metal outlining each finger. She had it custom designed and poured everything she had into the weapons. Each crest was set with diamonds and a small claw. The pretty boys that threatened her people would bleed tonight. 

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