Andrew leaned heavily against the alley wall. He had lost a great deal of blood and it was beginning to take its toll. The rain was cold and bit into him like hungry teeth. He heaved a soul deep sigh and pulled himself off the wall. Cradling his mutilated stomach, he began to walk again.
"I've got to find a place to rest," he whispered to himself, "and hide."
He rounded the alley and began walking up the sidewalk. This was not the best part of town, but would probably be the last place the cops would look for him...at least for a while. Andrew spotted the marquise of a seedy little theater up ahead and aimed for it as best he could.
The sign sported a ring of lights that had probably blinked in sequence at one time. Now many of the lights were burned out and the remaining few sputtered and flickered weakly. DEEP BLUE, A CONFESSIONAL the sign read. Academy award winning, no doubt, Andrew thought.
The woman within the booth leaned with her hand on her cheek reading a magazine. As Andrew approached she slid her eyes towards him but made no other movement. Andrew dug in his jean pocket for a crumpled ten-dollar bill.
"One adult, please," he whispered. His voice had a watery, bubbly sound that he didn't feel comfortable with at all.
"Yeah, One adult," The woman's active eyes looked towards his stomach.
"Don't get the seats messy. I gotta clean 'em and I don't wanna be here forever."
"Right, I'll be careful," Andrew slid the ten at the woman.
"Two bucks change," One hand passed him two very used and very unscrupulous looking bills.
"I mean it about them seats. And don't be in there all night. I come in before my shift ends. Five AM on the nose," Her eyes slid back to the magazine.
Andrew made his way out of the rain and into the dark lobby of the theater. At one time the theater had probably been a real showpiece. The style was reminiscent of Art Deco with burgundy carpeting and long gazelle-like female reliefs on the walls. The carpet was long past threadbare and the once graceful 'ladies' now sported hand drawn additions and epitaphs. The long defunct concession stand now held empty pasteboard boxes and two large trash barrels. A broom leaned against an antique cash register. There was no one inside to take his ticket, so Andrew made his way to the only entrance into the theater proper. From the look of things on the screen the plot had thickened about as much as it could and was now coagulating into a steady stream of crap.
The woman on the screen was in the process of disciplining a couple of gentlemen and all the parties involved looked to be anything but interested. Andrew slid along the wall to the corner seat in the back row. There were only two other people in the room. To Andrew's right, in the other back corner, an old man. The old man appeared to be asleep. In the very front row, center, was a woman. Andrew wondered what sort of woman would be caught dead in a place like this at one in the morning and then decided he could guess. When the woman stood up and adjusted her very short, very low-cut dress he decided he knew. Andrew's stomach had really begun to hurt. He moved his hand away from his stomach and looked down. His once light blue shirt now looked black and was completely soaked through with blood.
His hand was also filthy with his gore. He leaned his head against the wall and hoped he wasn't leaning against anything too unsavory. So, maybe trying to rob that guy wasn't such a smart move. He looked down at the tear in his shirt, where his own knife had been turned on him. Usually he was so careful with the marks...so conscious of the level of danger they possessed. He supposed the thought of money and an impending fix were enough to make him lax in his judgment. Countless muggings and a few accidental murders had made him hard, but they'd also made him overly confident. Across the theater the woman in the too too short dress stood again and stretched her arms over her head. He had the impression she had been in the theater for a long while. She looked down as she again adjusted her dress. In the glow of the XXX flickering on the screen it almost seemed she glanced towards Andrew, under her lashes and smiled to herself. It seemed.... Almost seemed.... Her teeth glinted white in the dark, like pearls or knives. At the thought of knives his gaping stomach seemed to remember the outrage done to it and a fresh wave of pain shifted through his stomach and down to his groin.
He hissed and moved himself in his seat. At his movement the woman's head came up and she almost seemed to test the air, her tongue moving over her lips like a snake. Andrew decided he had to get a better look at the damage done to him and gingerly unzipped his pants and pulled his shirt out. Pretty bad. Maybe not as bad as he'd thought, though. Maybe more blood than actual guts. A small reprieve from impending death. He laughed inwardly at his gallows humor. As he was perusing his gut he suddenly noticed the light from the screen seemed to turn to shadow. He looked up and standing one row in front of him, legs at least a mile long with the hem of a short dress just barely dipping below her puss, was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. She was pale, almost ghostly in the flickering light, and yet he could see her features plainly as if she were illuminated from within. Full, red lips wore the teasing smile of a prostitute. Andrew found himself leaning forward in spite of his injury. She leaned forward in response resting her hands on the back of the seat in front of him. Her black hair falling forward over her brow and past her shoulders reminding him of some dark bombshell from Hollywood's Golden Days.
"Do we have a boo-boo?" she asked her voice dark and heavy, like velvet.
