Friday, June 24, 2005

city photography

storm brewing

© Masalla Galleries 2005

Friday, June 03, 2005

Pelly and Miramar

"Miramar don’t care. She’s prob’ly out havin' a good time right now. PartAY Princess. When they find my body squished under the wheels of one of them huge trailer rigs, she’ll cry then. Or will she?"
The highway meandered between rolling farmlands and stands of dark trees. A scattering of cars hissed past. Lazily. Dark cloud rolled overhead, muting the countryside.
Pelly Boyes continued mumbling to himself as he waited for a semi. A big rig would end it quickly. The last thing he wanted was to end up a vegetable and have nurses feeding him through tubes, not being able to tell them he wanted to die. One blink for yes. And Miramar giving him that sick, ‘you’re so stupid’ look. Again. The doctors trying to repair the sack of bones that had been dragged under a truck. Pelly had to make sure big fat double tires got him right away.
He stood on the overpass above the fast lane, on the far side to oncoming cars, away from the view of any approaching driver, pressed against the rail, watching for the exact right truck, ready to drop as the vehicle drove under the highway bridge. No driver could to react quick enough to avoid him when he leaped. Just a blurred shape in front of the bumper.
At twenty-four, it was all over for Pelly Boyes, he had nowhere to go. His cash flow flew. The angle he had hoped for never appeared to him. Too many little shit deals that went sour. Scammy deals doomed from the start.
"Too many small time assholes who you can’t count on. Like Midas the Fink. Damn Midas. I shoulda shot you Midas when I had that gun, tellin’ the cops all that shit about me. There’s no way into the loop for a guy what no education, no chance of getting wherever it was I was tryin' to be gettin’ to. And Angel supposed to tell me when he's gonna 'lectrify a horse, some jockey friend you turned out."
Pelly wanted to go now. Make the exit from humanity. Couldn’t pay his debts and Sal Mungo didn’t tolerate late payments. A guy called Crunchy was looking for him right now. The cops too.
Worst of all Miramar was gone. She clinched it when she ran off yesterday with that big city dork wearing a fancy Western suit and a blue Mercedes. And pointy-toe Tony Lamas. She flashin' her green eyes at his wallet. Damn drop-dead gorgeous Miramar. Steppin' out of a forties movie. But gawd she has that forties style. What does she like about that so much? Benny Goodman for chrissakes.
Pelly stared down at his worn shoes as the first few drops of heavy rain spattered the pavement. Then the ominous dark Cadillac caught his attention.

from my novel Pelly and Miramar
© RC Westerholm

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