L-Noir

It was a windy day, that fateful day when they met. The day that started it all. The first day of their future together. That day of days…

"Ah, fuck it," the blonde muttered to herself as she ripped the sheet of paper out of her battered manual typewriter, balled it up, and threw it over her shoulder to join the rest of its fellows on the floor. She slumped against the back of her likewise battered wooden chair, dragging on a cigarette as she gazed with malevolence at the typewriter and beyond it at her past, her present, her future. The evening’s writing was not going well, to say the least.

The heavy black phone on her scarred desk suddenly rang to life. "Yeah?" she muttered into the receiver. She half-listened to the droning on the other end of the line, her mind still caught up in her memories. Something finally filtered through and caught her attention. "You want me to what!?" she asked incredulously, her voice rising with each word. "No way," she declared. "No fucking way. I’m not going to do it. Ask somebody else. Well, shit. Fine. I’ll meet you there in ten," she said with resignation. "Well, fuck me," she muttered as she simultaneously hung up the phone and stubbed out her cigarette. Kicking her chair toward the desk in frustration, she grabbed her black leather jacket and slammed out of the apartment.

As soon as the thin figure in denim and leather stepped out into the fresh night air, she lit another cigarette. Inhaling deeply, she reveled in the particulates that fogged her atmosphere. Pulling on leather gloves, she kicked her cobbled-together Harley to life and roared into the night. Minutes later the bike rolled to a stop in front of The Planet. None of the gathered women commented as the tough-as-nails blonde parked the bike on the sidewalk; everybody knew her and nobody wanted to mess with her.

She slouched through the door and paused to acclimate herself to the chaos around her. Music thumped, bodies swayed, glasses clanked, voices competed, and nothing was sweeter to her. The tattooed woman behind the bar caught her eye and lifted her chin slightly in greeting. Any other night, the blonde would take her usual stool in the corner, but this night, this night of all nights, she had to meet somebody. Surveying the room through her dark glasses, she finally located that someone and started toward her.