Well, this is some rotten luck.

I desperately try to suck oxygen into my lungs as I crumple to the pavement, having all the wind violently expelled from my torso by the titanic fist that just got done getting acquainted with my stomach. My insides make sounds they aren’t supposed to make, crunches and gurgles informing me that my organs are reorganizing themselves. I attempt to move my limbs, but they involuntarily squeeze inward, trying desperately to protect what remains of my vital parts from further onslaught.

The irony of ending up on my ass in this exact same alleyway twice in the span of forty-eight hours isn’t lost on me. Last time it was due to a well-executed tackle by a defensive line of police officers. As painful as that was, and as shitty as it was to get carted into the station after being tenderized, I’d honestly say I preferred that treatment. Despite how racist some cops can be, I didn’t really fear that my life might end at their hands. But now…

I probably won’t be so fortunate.

The juggernaut of a stegosaurus looms over me, his face shrouded in black shadows as the waning sun sinks below the horizon of glass and steel at his back. He’s the same stegosaurus I handed Sal’s envelope to two days ago… and now, based on him coincidentally being in this alley, I’m guessing he’s the one that shot and killed that fella just a few feet away from where I’m laying.

His fist uncurls before he reaches down to seize the front of my shirt, the serrated claws attached to the ends of his fingers stabbing through its fabric and scraping against my flesh. With little effort, he hoists me into the air, narrowing his eyes as I keep gasping for air that just won’t settle in my lungs. He brings my face inches away from his own before speaking.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing here, skinnie?” He sneers at me before releasing his grip, allowing me to crumple to my knees in my continuing pursuit of not suffocating. “I recognize you. You were there at Sal’s. The mangy mutt that Sal asked to deliver his dues.” He pauses. “Guess that means you probably recognize me, too. Hence your… stunned silence.”

He begins pacing the alley, not removing his eyes from me as my composure slowly returns and the horrifying pain in my abdomen is numbed by the adrenaline. He continues. “Of course, the real mystery here is why you’d come bumbling down this particular alleyway. You just unlucky? You live down the street and just happened to be taking a shortcut on your way home after work?” A click of his tongue foretells his disbelief of this posited scenario. “They say it’s a small world… but it ain’t that small. Nah, you were lookin’ for somethin’. And what you were lookin’ for… I think I have an idea of what it was.”

I can finally speak, though my voice is cracked and my breathing is still labored. “I… I do live… near here… I was just… there’s been a mistake-”

“Bullshit, skinnie. Don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Were you in cahoots with Eggsy the whole way? I bet he planned to pass the money off to you that night, you little scumbag.” Eggsy… was that the name of the man that died in this alley? A wicked grin spreads across the stegosaurus’s face. “Sorry for throwing a wrench into that plan of yours. Real shame what happened to Eggsy. You probably figured that out, though. Which means you waited for the heat to die down before coming back here to pick up his deposit, wherever it might be. Squirreled away in a bag of trash or a hole in the wall, probably.” He stops pacing and bends down, cocking his head at me. “How close am I?”

I do my best to straighten myself out, still on my knees but hopefully looking less pathetic. “I don’t know any ‘Eggsy’. I’m telling you, I don’t know anything about…”

My words trail off as the stegosaurus’s hand moves to the revolver at his side. It slides free of its home before aiming directly at my head. My assailant’s eyes seem to glaze over as he begins muttering. “I’m not even gonna bother asking again. I’m done dealing with fucking skinnies at this point. I’ll find the money. Sure, I’ll have to wait a week or so. Two hits in the same alley in as many days.” He chuckles. “The cops will be flabbergasted. But they’ll move on. And when they do, I’ll find the money.”

He draws back the hammer of his pistol. I try to protest, but all that escapes is a rasping wheeze. My teeth clench together as my body instinctively prepares itself for the inevitable, horrific, conclusive pain that is about to be inflicted upon it.

Please. I’ll tell you where the money is, just give me a chance to speak.

I don’t want to die.

Not now.

Not when…

Aubrey…

—

“I’m t-terribly sorry, everyone. We’ll… we’ll give you all refunds. Please, just remain calm-” The microphone offers little benefit to the lilliputian man’s voice. His words are drowned out by the thunderous racket that erupts from the crowd, a cacophony of confused jeers and enraged questioning.

Aubrey takes a step back as she gasps, bumping into me with the movement. I place my hands on her shoulders to steady her; she spins around in response. “Wh-what do they mean, ‘arrested’? Who would have…” Her eyes shoot wide, suddenly filled with anger. She begins shoving her way through the rabble toward the entrance. I follow, not fully understanding her enraged response. I mean, I’m pissed off that the show was canceled, too, but if Miles Cratis got arrested, what good can we do?

A tangle of bodies plugs the doorway, elbows and curses flying as the impatient crowd seeks an answer to the most pressing question: why was Miles Cratis arrested? What could he have possibly done to lead to his detention and an interruption to this perfect night of performance?

Aubrey exercises no patience or delicacy in her march forward. Her eyes are ablaze and her teeth are brandished as she presses on, with me following closely behind like a leashed toddler. Some patrons evacuate from her path upon seeing her; others must be encouraged with a nudge or a shove, eliciting half-spoken curses until those that utter them turn to see the hue of the person pushing past. As riled up as everyone is, nobody is going to argue with a pissed off velociraptor on the warpath.

With a bit of effort, we squeeze out of the claustrophobic, stuffed entryway and into the slightly cooler late evening air. Though a gaggle of onlookers mill about, there’s decidedly more room to maneuver here than there was inside; Aubrey rapidly shifts around the crowd to get as close to the pair of nearby squad cars as she can.

We only see him for a brief moment. Miles Cratis, handcuffed and with a partially dried rivulet of blood displayed across the side of his face, is stuffed into the backseat of one of the cruisers. Aubrey’s gasp quickly turns to a growl as she lunges forward. However, she doesn’t get within twenty feet of Cratis before a police officer extends his hand to rebuff her advance.

“Ma’am, please stay back,” the officer commands, but Aubrey screams past him toward the men closing the back door of the car into which the lead performer of our show was just stuffed.

“DUFFY! PRESTON! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”

The blue-clad dilophosaurus and spinosaurus turn to witness the infuriated velociraptor at the edge of the crowd. As they do, I instantly sink backward, hoping to avoid their notice.

The same fucking guys that arrested me. The same ones that interrogated me back at the precinct. Holy shit, what the fuck are they doing here?!

In reply to Aubrey’s fury, the pair only offer sneering grins as they climb into the front seats of their vehicle. A few quick taps of their siren allow them to perform a rapid U-turn and travel in the direction of the station from which they hail. The station that… isn’t even close to this nightclub. Hell, it’s an entire borough away.

Aubrey takes a step back, causing the officer to lower his arm and, after shooting her another sideways look, move away to speak with his partner near the trunk of their own parked cruiser. All I can do is stand behind her for a moment, unsure of what to say. I glance down; her fingers are curled into tight fists and her tail snaps to and fro.

She doesn’t hold the suspended position for long, spinning on her heel and stomping several yards away, only to turn about and stride back. She repeats this process a half dozen times, saying nothing but keeping her limbs tensed and her eyes focused on nothing in particular. Occasionally her lip curls as though she’s about to blurt out a blasphemy, but each time it sinks back down to a scowl before any utterance is made.

All I can do is watch as she processes her emotions. I wish I had a word of comfort I could offer, but I’m still confused about the entire situation. Everything happened so fast, and nobody said why Miles Cratis was being arrested. I strain my ears for any insight offered by nearby gossip, but the only clues I catch wind of are that the police stopped, an argument broke out, and next thing anyone knew Miles was in the back of the police car. None of it makes any-

“Those damn crooked sons of bitches. Those goddamn asshole sons of bitches!” Aubrey’s pacing has stopped, being replaced with a string of expletives directed toward two individuals who are blocks away by now. “I swear to God I’ll kick their asses. Both of ‘em. I’ll hospitalize those sons of bitches.”

“Aubrey…” I take a cautious step forward.

She doesn’t seem to hear me. “Why in God’s name would they do this? Why are they being so cruel? Racist bastards, there was no reason for them to arrest Miles Cratis! I bet they came here just because they knew I was here! Those goddamn pricks, they ruined everything! They ruined my date! They hurt Miles Cratis! Fucking WHY?!”

I gingerly move a little closer. “Aubrey, listen. It’ll be alright.”

Her eyes are glued to the sidewalk. Tears stream down her cheeks. Her fists tremble. “Why can’t I have anything? Not even one goddamn night of happiness?! WHY-”

Aubrey gasps, interrupted by my next action.

I’ll admit… this might not be the smartest thing I’ve ever done. After all, this is a furious velociraptor I’m dealing with, complete with sharpened claws and eviscerating teeth. As an unqualified human, I don’t know what all a dinosaur’s emotional breakdown involves or how best to treat it safely. As such, there’s a non-zero chance that my jugular’s about to get torn out, and if that happened there’d be no one to blame but the stupid caveman who approached an enraged predator. But… I’m executing a hail mary. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I slide my arms around her shoulders and bring her body into contact with mine, my wrists passing one another as the encircling motion comes to rest. Her already stiff posture practically goes rigor mortis as she locks in place, her tail snapping to an almost perfect vertical angle. With our close proximity I can no longer see her face, and aside from her gasp of surprise I don’t hear her breath either.

If I’m about to die, I may as well go for broke.

I rest my head against the side of hers, feeling her short blue hair rustle against my cheek. I gently squeeze her in my embrace before whispering to her. “It’s okay, Aubrey. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

She finally releases the breath that had caught in her throat, a shuddering, decompressing sigh entwined with a choked sob. Her posture slacks, the rigid tail behind her collapsing to the ground in a defeated thud. Her fingers uncurl before finding their way to my back, gripping tightly to my suit jacket. She nuzzles her snout into the crook of my shoulder, whimpering only one word.

“Sammy…”

I stroke the nape of her neck, wishing more than anything that I could take her pain away. This meeting-turned-date has been a roller coaster for both of us. What started friendly and amicable quickly turned sour when I opened my stupid mouth and asked a woman with a bad knee to a fuckin’ swing dance. I embarrassed the hell out of myself and I thought that was gonna be the end of it. Sure, she said it was “okay” but I know all too well that it only takes one boneheaded fuck-up to turn a potential courtship into a “never speak to me again”...

But… she danced with me. Just when I was feeling like I’d blown my chance with this beautiful, strong-willed woman, she offered me her hand and led me to the dance floor for a slow enough song that her knee could handle. When her gentle hands came to rest on my shoulders, I felt like my heart was gonna fly out of my chest. And when her tail crept up on me like some sort of feathered commando, I just about yelped in surprise. But after the initial shock, the sensation provided by her alien appendage was… comforting. Even kinda… sexy.

I feel my cheeks lighting up like they did back on the dance floor. I wish I could keep myself from blushing like an imbecile, but it is what it is. Instead, I try to shift my focus back to the moment at hand. Feeling that her trembling has calmed and her breathing has steadied, I lean back a little to meet Aubrey’s eyes. The yellow orbs scintillate in the moonlight, shimmering with residual moisture. Again, the primal need inside of me to protect this woman who likely doesn’t need my protection in the slightest flares up; I run a gentle hand across her cheek, brushing away the small streaks that mar her makeup. She responds by tilting her head into my hand ever so slightly, still staring up at me, awaiting my words.

“... I’m sorry that tonight has been rough on you, Aubrey. I… wish that things had gone different. We could still be in that club, with Miles Cratis playing his heart out for nobody but us two. I might have even built up the courage to hold your hand while we listened.” This elicits a small giggle from Aubrey before I continue. “I wish none of this bad shit happened, but… I’m still thankful that you invited me out tonight. Some random guy who stopped and complimented your humming at a bus stop got to enjoy a wonderful evening with a kind, charming, beautiful woman. I’m glad I got to spend tonight with you.”

She draws in a sharp breath, her own cheeks reddening at my remarks. Her eyes shift back and forth, not settling on a specific place on which to focus. Her face is awash with emotions, none of which I can properly pin down. I mean… I hope she feels a certain way, like how I feel about her right now, but her expressions aren’t easy to read. I’m left unsure on how to proceed, any building debonair momentum being lost to hesitation.

She fills in the blank for me in an instant, drawing her face to mine. Our lips connect, electric and exotic, thrilling and saccharine. It’s a sensation completely foreign to me, yet perfectly familiar, both alarming and alluring. Though briefly caught off guard by her brazenness, I quickly become enthralled, returning her kiss with my own. The lingering tension in her body melts as she realizes I reciprocate her emotion, a soft, solitary gasp escaping from between our joined lips.

Aubrey. You are everything I want in a woman.

Aubrey…

—

“PIERCE!”

An unfamiliar voice causes my tightly-squeezed eyes to shoot open, a brief flurry of spots and stars bombarding my vision. The barrel of the gun held mere inches away from my face rocks backward ever so slightly as its wielder snaps his head around to regard the person that interrupted him.

The stegosaurus speaks in a growl. “Marty?! What are you doing here?!”

Slightly out of breath upon the end of his short jog, the diplodocus who seems to be named Marty stares down at both of us. “Pierce, you idiot. You think you’ll just drop me off and mysteriously say you gotta ‘take care of something’, expecting me not to know exactly where you’re headed?” He focuses on me, then the gun that the stegosaurus he called Pierce has pointed at my head. “The real question is, what the fuck is going on here?! Who the hell is this human?! And why do you got iron drawn on him?!”

Pierce lets out a sigh before flitting his eyebrows at me. “Someone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Isn’t that right, skinnie?”

Marty’s hissed words are sharp. “Pierce! Put that fucking thing away, are you actually out of your fucking mind?! The cops were just here two days ago, what makes you think they won’t be around the corner?!”

An eye roll from Pierce causes my heart to drop again. Every moment I think this long-necked angel has saved my life, I’m brought back to reality by the bullet that remains aimed directly at my brain. “I’m tired, Marty. I’m tired of humans fucking things up for me, and I just want to feel a little better.” His wicked gaze rests on me again. “One less skinnie in the world would help me feel a lot better, actually.”

My voice suddenly returns to me, but my words tumble from my mouth before my brain can properly register whether it was the right move or not.

“I work at Sal’s Butcher and Grocery! I’m the one that gave Pierce our dues!”

For an agonizing moment, the only sound is that of the rustling, broken police tape still affixed to the entryways of the alley. It seems the entire city fell to a hush, the typically ever-present din of electricity, engines, horns and sirens all but vanished in the sickening quiet.

Marty’s jaw hangs open in befuddlement. His neck swings to look from my face to that of my captor; Pierce wears a pronounced frown that borders on a snarl.

With a quick shake of his head to clear his confused expression, Marty speaks. “Wh-... This guy works at Sal’s? He gave you Sal’s dues?” As he says this, the vague memory of the diplodocus’s form creeps into my mind. He was standing outside the dock’s mandoor. He must not have seen me, and I just barely saw him.

Pierce only shrugs in reply, forcing Marty to continue. “That means he knows who you are. Who we work for. Does…” Marty’s face scrunches as he pieces the situation together. “... Does he know about the rest of the money? About Eggsy?”

The barrel of the gun shifts closer to my eyeline, causing me to flinch again. Pierce’s words ooze with cruelty. “Good question. Does he know about the rest of the money?”

Despite my desperation, despite the gun pointed at my head, something keeps me from blurting out that I know where the money is and immediately taking them to it. With Pierce’s clear hubris for humans and Marty’s continued confusion, I get the distinct feeling that I wouldn’t survive long after handing them their prize. After all, I’d just be a “loose end”, someone who knows who they are and who they work for.

So… if I tell them, I’m dead. If I don’t… I’m dead.

God, please throw me a bone here.

“... We should bring him to Charles.”

Only in response to these glorious, blessed words uttered by the diplodocus saint before me does the gun barrel descend to point at the concrete beneath us instead of at my skull. However, Pierce’s anger only seems to be exacerbated. “What the fuck good is Charles gonna do in this situation, huh? What does he want with this literal nobody?”

Marty’s expression hardens. “Pierce. We need to bring him in. Don’t do this again.”

Pierce’s hands find his hips as he begins pacing, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. My mind unconsciously recollects Aubrey’s similar show of emotional distress from yesterday, though the beautiful woman I comforted didn’t have a cocked revolver in her hand. Besides that, I don’t think there’ll be any comforting of this dinosaur with a warm hug and kind words. Instead, Pierce shoots furious glances at me, wrestling with his own conscience on whether he’s going to acquiesce to Marty’s request or finish doing what he so transparently wants to do to me.

After an agonizing half a minute, his pacing concludes. He glares down at me once more before thumbing the hammer of his revolver and gently squeezing the trigger, allowing the hammer to slide back to its resting, less dangerous position. Absent is the crack of gunpowder and the blinding flash that I was certain would spell the end of Samuel Lawson. I let out a tremendous sigh as I slump forward, mentally and physically spent.

But my night isn’t over yet. I may have earned a stay of execution, but that doesn’t mean I’m out of the weeds yet. Not even close. Marty grabs me by the arm and hoists me to my feet as Pierce marches down the alleyway in the opposite direction from which I had entered. I curse myself and my blind stupidity for not being more cautious and scoping out every angle of this alley before I went blundering in toward the wealth it conceals. If I had… none of this would have happened. Stupid, stupid.

I’m escorted forcefully to a parked Cadillac DeVille, as black as night and a fitting ride for the dinosaur that woulda killed me were it not for some divine timing by his friend. Pierce groans in my direction again. “It’s not bad enough you’re letting this skinnie prick live, now I have to have another one of these disease-bags in my back seat?”

Marty shrugs. “I took a cab here. Unless you want to foot the bill for another one to get back to Santiago’s, yes. You’ll just have to live with the ‘disease-bag’ in your back seat.” I sense both annoyance and sarcasm in Marty’s voice. Though he’s obviously not my friend, I get the feeling that he’s not as intolerant of humans as his coworker.

With an annoyed grunt, Pierce climbs behind the steering wheel. Marty opens the back door and ushers me inside; while not quite a shove, he doesn’t give me the option of anywhere else to go. The idea of bolting from the car crosses my mind, but the loaded and anxious revolver that still rests in Pierce’s grip dashes the notion. As Marty slides into the front passenger seat, the engine roars to life and the tires beneath us carry me toward… who knows what? My death? Probably.

Geez, what a fucking lousy way for things to go.

As the reflected, waning light upon the windows of shops and businesses sails past us, my mind wanders to last night. To Aubrey. God, I wanna live so I can see her again. So I can hold her in my arms again. So I can kiss her again.

Our first kiss, as passionate and intoxicating as it was, met a swift end as the same policeman who held Aubrey at arm’s length stepped forward again. “Hey, you two. Move along.”

We separated quickly, startled from the moment by the officer’s stern command. He eyed both of us with contempt, clicking his tongue before climbing back into his cruiser. Though some percentage of the crowd had dispersed, others had shifted focus from the scene where Miles Cratis was arrested to the human and dinosaur that were now canoodling only a few yards away. Aubrey’s face flushed bright red and her tail instantly retracted away from me, instead coiling tightly around her midsection. She hustled down the sidewalk, escaping the gawkers as rapidly as her legs would allow her.

Of course, I followed closely behind. I was still enraptured. I wanted more of what we just had, even more than that. My primitive caveman brain was guiding me in that moment. Yes, I wanted her to be happy, and yes, I wanted to be supportive of her. But more than anything… I wanted her.

I wanted to be with Aubrey.

Almost in response to my unspoken words, she spun around to face me, well outside of both eye and earshot of the lingering onlookers. Her cheeks were still red, but her eyes had become stern. “Sammy-” She stopped herself before clearing her throat. “... Samuel. I had a nice time this evening… all things considered. But I have to go. If I get to the precinct, maybe I can help straighten out whatever happened with Miles Cratis.” She hesitated, shifting her gaze downward. “Thank you for tonight. But… this should be goodbye.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

My nose scrunched as I processed her words. “... Goodbye? What do you mean, goodbye? Wh- I mean, could we do this again sometime?”

She shook her head. “You saw the way those people were looking at us. The way they whispered. The way they stared. That’s… I don’t want that for you.”

I brought my hand to my chin, contemplating her words before replying sincerely. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t really notice that at all.”

She let out a huff. “Come on, Sammy. Don’t be dense. They were staring at us like we were a sideshow at the carnival!”

“I’m being serious, Aubrey. I mean, I know there were people there, and maybe they were lookin’ at us… but I wasn’t paying attention to them. I was only paying attention to you.”

Again, her cheeks brightened but she tried to remain resolute. “Sammy, if this… if we continue on, that’s gonna be our lives. Looks and stares and nasty comments behind our backs. This isn’t… People think this is wrong. That our kinds shouldn’t be together. Like it’s some sorta taboo.” Her head sank as she convinced herself further. “... People think… that humans should be with humans… and dinosaurs should be with dinosaurs…”

In reply, I scoffed. “Heh. Fuck ‘em.”

Aubrey was taken aback, lifting her head again with a raised eyebrow.

I continued. “So what if they think it’s wrong? You can’t tell me that what we have isn’t real. The way I feel about you is as real as the way I’ve ever felt about any human. Maybe even more so. Why do some rubber-necking yahoos have any right to tell us otherwise?” I shook my head. “I’m telling you right now, Aubrey. I’d be willing to weather that storm. I’ve already lived a life of nasty remarks being made at my expense just because of who I am. I’ve suffered prejudice and profiling. But I’ve always endured it. And… if I was with a gal like you… it’d make enduring any other hardships that much more worthwhile.”

She brought a hand up to cover her quivering lip. Her eyes glistened with the telltale signs of tears ready to fall again; I stepped toward her, hoping she would mirror my gesture, but she did not.

I let out a sigh. “That said… I don’t want you to endure something you don’t want to endure, either. You’re probably right. People would look at us funny. And… you’d probably catch the worst of it. Choosing to be with a caveman like me. I can’t imagine the type of shit they’ll fling at you.” I hesitated before completing the thought. “... I don’t want you to get hurt, Aubrey. Not on account of me. As much as I wanna be with you… I want you to be happy.”

Her eyes shifted downward again as she processed my words. After a moment, she gently stepped closer, closing the gap between us. She lifted her face to meet my gaze as a small smile spread across her lips. Though I hadn’t expected to hear her mirror my words, my heart practically leapt out of my chest upon their utterance:

“... Fuck ‘em.”

I was now the one to take the initiative, leaning forward to kiss her. She reciprocated the gesture instantly, interlocking her hands around my waist to draw us closer together. Her tail performed the maneuver with which I was quickly growing accustomed, wrapping around my back in an additional layer of downy embrace. Our eyes closed as we explored uncharted territory with one another, basking in ambrosial sensations wholly new to us.

Too soon, she drew back from our tender kiss, gazing up at me with her beautiful yellow eyes. I still struggled to properly read her expressions, something that would be remedied as we spent more time together, but my guess was that she was… hopeful.

She smiled. “You’re a real catch, Sammy. You know that?”

My hand instinctively scratched the back of my neck in embarrassment. “Ahh, I’m nothin’ special. But you… You are a woman worth asking out again.” Her eyebrows playfully flitted as she awaited my next words. “That is… unless you wanted to continue this date somewhere else?”

Her tone became indignant, though the grin remaining on her lips informed me of its intended playfulness. “Mr. Lawson! What sort of woman do you take me for?”

I quickly backpedaled, stumbling over my faux pas. “... Oh! Oh, no! Not… I mean, not that I’m- I’d- I meant, like, for coffee or somethin’!”

She let out a giggle that turned to a sigh. “You are too easy to tease, you know that? But, no. Not tonight. I need to get to the station and see if there’s anything I can do for Miles Cratis. It’s likely the commissioner is gonna be called in based on the high profile of who they arrested. I just need to find out why it happened, and whether I can help him.”

“Oh. Do you want me to come along? I could be, like, an extra witness?”

Aubrey shook her head. “I don’t want to risk Duffy or Preston seeing you again. They’d likely arrest you on the spot just for showing your face there. Truthfully… I’m glad they didn’t see you tonight.” A look I interpreted as worry crossed her face. “... I shouldn’t have shouted at them. If… if they were here just because of me, I gave them all the gratification they wanted, and now they can spin a yarn about how it wasn’t because of me that they arrested Miles.”

I tightened my grip around her, stroking her back as I spoke. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Aubrey. If those pricks had some sorta vendetta, then you take that info to your boss and let him handle it.” I recalled what she had told me of the police commissioner over our drinks; from what she said, he seemed to be a level-headed and good-hearted person. “I’m sure everything will work out.”

She nuzzled her snout into my neck again, causing a shiver of desire to fire up my spine. “... Thank you, Sammy.”

After a moment, she took a step back. Her beautiful yellow dress sparkled in the moonlight, accentuating every subtle curve of her slender form. The primal part of me began rumbling in the back of my mind again, sparking the fire of my libido, but I quickly stamped out the growing embers. “Uh… so… maybe we could do another date, then?”

She smiled and nodded. “I’d like that very much, Sammy. Give me a call tomorrow night, okay?”

I stepped toward the curb, raising a hand to hail a cab for her. The light atop a yellow and black checkered vehicle flicked off as it pulled to the side of the road. In continuation of my dignified gentleman act, I fished a dollar out of my pocket and handed it to the driver before opening the back door for Aubrey. She blushed and smiled again before sliding into the back seat.

I bent over to speak. “I’ll call you tomorrow night. Have a good evening, Aubrey.”

She leaned up, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. “You, too, Sammy.”

…

Give her a call. I was supposed to give Aubrey a call tonight. And now I’m being carted God knows where to have God knows what done to me, all because my stupid ass went trundling back to that alley for that money.

I wish I had never seen that money. I certainly didn’t want that Eggsy fella to die in that alley, but I find myself wishing he’d croaked before he pointed me toward his buried treasure. Hell, I’m a broke guy who’s falling head over heels for a beautiful woman. That dollar I forked over to the cab driver stung as bad as the one I gave to the waitress at the jazz club. Raptor Jesus, a forty cent tip. I could practically feel my belt tightening with the gesture. And, sure, I felt cool and hip and generous in front of the pretty velociraptor sittin’ next to me, but I don’t exactly have a wallet stuffed full of bills to keep acting that suave all the time.

My mattress just never got comfortable last night. I tossed and turned, my thoughts flipping back and forth between how much I wanted to treat Aubrey to a fancy dinner at an upper-class place and which of my meager possessions I’d have to sell to afford such a night. As much as I loved my clock radio, I could probably get a few bucks for it at an electronics shop. Saxon, on the other hand… well, I loved the walking carpet, but I couldn’t even get a nickel for the big lunk.

It wasn’t until the morning sun was rising over the bay that my memory was jogged. With everything that happened last night… Aubrey was front and center in all of my thoughts. I kept recalling her laughter, and our dance, and our kiss. Well, both kisses. I was stumbling over my own emotions trying to figure out what I could do to afford taking her somewhere she deserved to be taken… when I finally recalled the money. Life-changing money, tucked behind a brick in an alcove of a dingy alleyway where a guy got shot dead on its behalf.

If I was lucky, nobody else knew where that money was. If I was lucky, I’d be able to sneak in there after the cops lost interest in the scene, snatch those envelopes, and have more than enough to support myself and the woman who I wanted to be mine.

I wasn’t lucky. Not by a longshot.

Why the fuck was I so stupid? Am I really gonna get done in over money? I don’t know if Aubrey is the type of gal who’d scram when she realized I barely had two pennies to rub together, but she didn’t strike me as that kind of woman. Why was I so moronic that I’d risk my life just for some stupid cash when I coulda just explained my situation to her and taken her out for a hamburger instead?

The car is deathly silent. We’ve been on the road for fifteen minutes now. I can’t even tell which neighborhood we’re in; none of the buildings are familiar to me. Neither of my captors speak, not to me and not to each other. Though I doubt idle chatter would put me much at ease right now, it doesn’t feel any better to sit in awkward silence, left only to contemplate my mistakes and how much I want to see Aubrey again.

What am I gonna do? What should I say to this “Charles” guy? He’s clearly the boss of these two, and Pierce didn’t even want to bring me in at all. Part of me hopes that the introduction of another person might mean a little more reasonable treatment than a cocked gun pointed in my face… but then again, I don’t know anything about the guy, or even the level of who I’m dealing with. These fellas are Herdsters, aren’t they? Don’t they have a half dozen offices with their shiny logo sprinkled around the city? They do fuckin’ fundraisers for kids with leukemia. Am I really gonna get killed by union guys?

The building we pull up to isn’t a union office. Instead, I see a small sign, only partially illuminated due to one of its bulbs being burned out. I squint to make out the name: Santiago’s Bar. Never heard of the place. As he shuts off the engine and exits the vehicle, I notice Pierce tuck the revolver back into its shoulder holster before tugging at the front of his suit jacket to conceal it properly.

Marty doesn’t immediately exit the car, instead turning his elongated neck to face me. “We’re taking you inside to our boss, Charles Rossi. To you, he’s Mr. Rossi. You wanna have a shot at keeping your insides inside of you, I recommend you be respectful, and you be honest.” He tilts his head downward slightly to wordlessly ask whether or not I’m picking up what he’s putting down. I nervously nod my head in understanding. With his own subtle nod of approval, he opens his door and slides out to the sidewalk. Though the back doors aren’t locked, I don’t want to risk touching anything in Pierce’s car after his earlier protest, so I wait for Marty to escort me toward the establishment.

Marty takes the lead and Pierce brings up the rear, sandwiching me between the two of them as we pass through the entrance. Within, I see a cozy, albeit pretty empty, restaurant with a drink-lined bar affixed to one wall and several dining booths attached to the other. A smattering of tables fill the space between, but my eyes are drawn to a figure seated in the rear corner of the restaurant.

Lit cigar held between his lips, the gray triceratops peers down at a stack of papers in front of him. He glances up at the sound of the front door’s jingling bell, narrowing his purple eyes slightly as he takes in the sight of his two subordinates and their captive. At least… I assume as much. Not sure who else here would be this Mr. Rossi fella, considering the well-pressed suit and air of supreme authority emanating from him.

A sharp shove to my back pushes me forward, and I follow Marty through the spaces between the empty tables and to the edge of the triceratops’s booth. His eyes slowly move from me to Pierce before he speaks. “Who is this?”

Pierce’s voice growls through his teeth. “I caught him snooping around the alley where we think Eggsy hid the money. The one where… where I shot him.” Mr. Rossi’s eyebrows raise and he offers a small shrug, waiting for Pierce to clarify further. “He’s a skinnie who works for Sal Fontana, at his grocery store. He handed me Sal’s dues on Monday when I stopped by.”

This seems to pique Mr. Rossi’s interest. He turns to me. “Is this true?”

I gulp before responding, Marty’s words from the car echoing in my head. “Y-yes, sir. Mr. Rossi, sir.”

At this, he raises his eyebrows as a slight smile graces his lips. “I see you already know my name, which puts me at a disadvantage here, Mr…?”

“... Lawson, sir. Samuel Lawson.”

“I see. Mr. Lawson- ah, do you mind if I call you ‘Samuel’?” I shake my head as agreeably as I can. “Samuel. Please, take a seat.”

I quickly slide into the seat across from the well-dressed triceratops, fearing that Pierce would forcibly send me here if I didn’t follow Mr. Rossi’s command on the double. The stegosaurus remains standing, arms crossed and glaring down at me, as Marty swings a vacant chair away from one of the nearby tables to take a seat.

Mr. Rossi slides the papers in front of him to the side before folding his hands on the table separating us. “So, Samuel. Can you explain to me why you were the one to give Pierce Sal’s dues on Monday?”

I blink, trying to straighten the events out in my mind as best I can, straining to appear as honest as possible. “Sal- that is, my boss, Mr. Fontana, called me into his office that morning. Said he had to go to a funeral, that he wouldn’t be around to give the unio- I mean, the Herdsters guys the dues that he owed ‘em. He asked me to handle it for him.”

“And did you handle it for him?”

I glance toward Pierce who remains statuesque. “Y-yes, sir. I gave Pier- uhh-”

Pierce’s voice rumbles. “Mr. Signorelli.”

“... Mr. Signorelli… I gave Mr. Signorelli the envelope, just as Mr. Fontana asked.”

Mr. Rossi sizes me up. “Well, that is admirable considering your… station. Did you know what was inside of that envelope?”

A stone forms in my throat. “... I didn’t, no. Not for sure, at least. It said ‘Dues’ on it, so I-”

“A lot of money, Samuel. There was a lot of money inside of that envelope. And there was a lot of money in a lot of other envelopes that my associates here gathered throughout the course of that day. Money that has since been… misplaced.” His words are slow, deliberate and chilling. I feel outclassed, outmaneuvered, like I brought a stack of checkers to a chess board.

He leans forward before speaking again. “Now. Samuel. What, exactly, were you doing in the alleyway where the only person who knew where that money ended up breathed his last?”

This is it. I either play dumb and more than likely get dragged out back and fitted for a pair of cement shoes… or I fess up, and likely meet the same fate.

I want to cower. I want to beg for my life. I want to do anything to stave off the executioner. I’m scared beyond belief, only able to think about Aubrey and how much it’ll hurt her if I vanish off the face of the earth. I want to be there for her. I want to call her, like I told her I would. I want to hold her in my arms again.

My back straightens, and my eyes lock with Mr. Rossi’s. For an almost imperceptible moment, a flicker of surprise crosses his face, but he stalwarts himself just as quickly. I sense the stegosaurus to my right tensing up, ready to draw out his pistol and make good on what he wanted to do to me less than a half hour ago.

Unbelievably, I speak without stutter or falter. “I was in the alley the night Eggsy was shot dead. I didn’t know his name then, and I didn’t see anyone else but the fella bleeding out. With his dying breaths, he pointed toward an alcove in the alley. That’s where he hid the money, and when I turned back to him, he was dead.” I exhale slowly. “I know exactly where your money is, Mr. Rossi.”

He blinks. I can’t tell if my sudden surge of bravery surprised or merely annoyed him, but for a long moment he does not respond, instead lazily fingering the cigar between his teeth as he puffs away at it. His eyes continue to scan my face, peering into my mind, my subconscious, my very soul as he searches for deceit or contradiction.

It’s Pierce that finally breaks the silence. “I know what alcove he’s talking about, Charles. It’s stuffed full of trash, and it’ll be a tight fit for me, but I can find the money. I’ll go right now, and take care of this one while I’m at it.” He slaps down on my shoulder, digging his claws into my flesh and preparing to hoist me out of the booth when Mr. Rossi interrupts him with a raised hand.

“No. Instead… let’s all take a ride, together.” Pierce’s grip instantly loosens and his mouth hangs open. Mr. Rossi moves his gaze up toward the dark blue stegosaurus before raising an eyebrow. “What, am I not allowed to leave this bar? I’d like to see this thing through in person, considering the…” He turns to face me again. “... investment at stake.”

I can hear Pierce’s teeth grind together as he steps back. The faux leather of the booth seat squeaks underneath Mr. Rossi as he slides out and to his feet. He rolls his shoulders and straightens his back before gesturing for me to accompany him. I do so.

Back outside the establishment, Mr. Rossi slides a key into the driver’s side door of a silver Buick Roadmaster, an absolute behemoth of a car. My awe of its luxurious, immaculate form turns into downright jealousy as the triceratops thumbs a control on his door, causing all three remaining locks to spring upright. Automatic locks… you only see that on the fanciest of automobiles. While I feel a bit stupid gawking at a car when I might not even be alive an hour from now, I still enter the vessel as gingerly as possible to avoid marring its beauty with my clumsiness.

Marty shifts into the back seat next to me, eyeing me suspiciously. The futility of an escape attempt is still present in my mind, considering Pierce is along for the ride as well, scowling in the front passenger seat. Despite the smoothness of the drive, the ride back to the alley feels somehow twice as long. At a certain point, Pierce begins offering directions to Mr. Rossi who, I assume, hadn’t been to this crime scene himself yet. The severity of the situation weighs on me in an instant. All three of these men are aware that a murder took place where we’re headed, and all three are completely fine with it.

I don’t see myself surviving this.

I suddenly wish the car ride were even longer, desperately clinging to each second as though it’ll be my last. The blue-tinted woman who charmed me and laughed at my stupid jokes and let me hold her springs to the forefront of my mind. Aubrey… if it means I can see Aubrey, even one more time… I’ll do anything it takes to make it out of this alive.

My mind starts rolling through possibilities. I could always book it once we’re in the alley and they’re distracted by the alcove. That is, if Pierce isn’t sinking his claws into my shoulder blade again. Maybe I could make a play for Pierce’s revolver and try to turn the tables on them… is what I would be saying if I was delusional enough to disregard my head being swiftly torn from my neck for such a maneuver.

We come to a stop about a block away from the alley. Pierce assists me out of the vehicle forcefully, keeping one hand tucked beneath his suit jacket. I know what it rests on. Marty’s neck cranes around as he checks for anyone interested in three well dressed dinosaurs and a schlubby loading dock worker about to head into a darkened alley. Mr. Rossi, on the other hand, merely stretches his back and withdraws another cigar, performing a somewhat interesting stunt by using one of his razor sharp horns to clip its tip off. With the flick of a lighter, its freed end ignites and he puffs contentedly on the tobacco-laden wrapping.

All four of us enter the alley, the sun having not fully set but barely illuminating its sheltered form. The sharp angles burst into shadows that continue sluggishly sliding across the opposing walls. Our focus comes to rest on the small alcove in the back of the alley, just as trash-stuffed and claustrophobia-inducing as it ever was. I briefly consider making a comment about Pierce probably not being able to fit in there, but do away with the thought. As much as I’d love to lighten the mood before my execution, for some reason I just don’t have it in me right now.

The three dinosaurs turn their attention to me. I meet their gazes in turn, unsure what to do next, until Mr. Rossi instructs me. He gestures toward the alcove. “Well? You’re the man of the hour. If you will, Samuel.”

I take a deep breath. This is it. I’m gonna wade back into that trash pile, fish out their money, and earn a bullet to the head for my troubles. But, to my surprise… I don’t feel panic. I don’t weep or piss my pants like I feel I should in a situation like this. Instead… I simply do as I’m asked.

The heaped trash shifts under my weight as I step over it, the homes of the same rats and insects I disturbed two nights prior brought to ruination all over again. Their scampers and scuttles send a chill up my spine, but nothing climbs into my boot or under the brims of my pant legs. I sidle carefully, reaching the end of the small cavern before glancing at the familiar loose brick. It appears undisturbed; pulling it away reveals this to be true as the same plethora of cash-packed envelopes rests within the wall’s hidden grotto. A few bugs that had taken up residence in the space scurry away as I carefully remove the envelopes, being cautious to not tear them open with my movements and send money tumbling into the garbage bags below me.

Turning back to the trio of Herdsters, I see Marty’s mouth hanging open. He quietly mutters, “Holy shit. He really did know where it was. He was tellin’ the truth.” Pierce is less impressed, instead choosing to caress the grip of his revolver with his thumb. It has exited its holster and now holds fast at his side, ready to swing in my direction at a moment’s notice. Mr. Rossi, on the other hand, merely rolls his cigar from one end of his mouth to the other, allowing plumes of smoke to pass through his teeth and rise to the heavens.

I step out of the alcove, shaking my ankles briefly to clear them of any rubbish that clings to my pant legs. Envelopes clutched in both hands, I approach Mr. Rossi and offer the bounty to him. He accepts them, easily able to clutch all two dozen or so in one of his colossal mitts. He says nothing, only narrowing his eyes slightly as the gears in his overwhelming mind turn. Most likely thinking of the least messy way to dispose of me.

Even still, even facing down my inevitable destruction, I feel no fear in the moment. I lift my head and straighten out my back before speaking. “I did what you asked. You’ve got your money. Now that it’s done, and my future’s looking pretty uncertain… I’m not gonna beg for my life. Do what you gotta do.”

A terrifying grin spreads across Pierce’s lips as he anticipates the job about to be assigned to him. Marty simply averts his eyes, appearing almost remorseful. But Mr. Rossi…

He turns the envelopes over in his hand, skimming through them with a lazy claw until he settles on one. Withdrawing it, I can see it’s the very same envelope I handed Pierce. The word “Dues” is still scrawled across its surface. Mr. Rossi calls attention to the same thing, almost as though reading my mind. “Sal’s handwriting. I can always recognize it. When you’re in the business as long as I have been, you make it your job to notice such things. A single person’s handwriting, the order in which someone stuffs their bills of varying denominations into their dues envelopes, even the excuses that some will try to peddle more than once to weasel out of paying what they owe.”

His eyes lift from the envelopes to me before he continues. “I’m willing to wager you recognize this handwriting, too. Which likely means you recognized it when you discovered this stash of envelopes. So, tell me, Samuel. If Pierce hadn’t caught you tonight… if you had walked in here as you intended to and pulled these envelopes out of that hole in that wall… would you have returned this money to the Herdsters?”

I hold his gaze. His brilliant purple eyes are icy, analytical and inescapable. I’m not about to start lying now. Not when I’m a dead man anyway.

“No, I wouldn’t have.”

A sudden, almost deafening boom. I flinch, my brain clearly not processing the fact that I’ve just been shot in the head. The moment seems to suspend itself, a snapshot of time, unwavering and unrelenting. Perhaps this is what it means to die. Your brain just freeze-frames on your final moment and you stare at it for all eternity.

Except… motion slowly returns to the scene. As the ringing in my ears subsides and the dizziness that clouds my head clears, I realize that Mr. Rossi is… laughing.

The humongous, intimidating triceratops in front of me is actually laughing. As though he was just told the best joke of his life. Each roil of his laughter rings louder than the one that came before, bursting forth like thunderclaps. I stand in utter shock as he uses his free hand to wipe the tears from his eyes, being joined in mutual perplexion by the other two dinosaurs standing next to us.

As his composure returns, he finally clears the air of our confusion. “Samuel Lawson, it has been a lot of years since I’ve come across anyone so bluntly honest as you. Truly, only a fool or a saint would be that transparently candid in such a situation as the one you’re in. And, by my estimation, you are no fool.”

My cheeks redden at the sudden compliment, though I’m not convinced that I’m not the biggest idiot to walk the earth.

Mr. Rossi almost beams down at me as he takes a deep breath, allowing more smoke to rise in the wake of his exhalation. He contemplates something before nodding. “You are an intriguing fellow, Samuel. And one I’d like to have in my employ. What do you say to a job?”

Nah. At this point, I’m fully convinced that I’m lying dead on the pavement. This is some sorta delusion my brain cooked up as the searing lead tore its way through my gray matter. There’s no way on God’s green earth that this is real.

Pierce’s holler echoes around the alley. “WHAT?!”

Mr. Rossi ignores him, patiently awaiting my answer as his tongue bobs the cigar between his lips up and down. Almost as badly as when Pierce knocked the wind out of me, I find myself unable to form a coherent word. I’ve been blindsided by some things in my life, most recently Aubrey suddenly asking me to dance after rebuffing my previous request to do so… but this is a whole nother level of “what in the holy fuck is going on?”

I finally manage to eke out a reply. “M-Mr. Rossi, sir-”

“Please, call me Charles.”

“... Ch-Charles, sir. I’m… I’m flattered by the offer. Truly, I am. But… I got a job already. Over at Sal’s.”

Charles’s smile turns downward ever so slightly. “How much is Sal paying you over there?”

“Um… about sixty dollars a week, sir.”

This earns a brief pause from the triceratops. “Hm. He really should pay his workers more than that. Anyway…” He peels open the envelope that Sal himself had stuffed with cash, withdraws four fifty-dollar bills, and offers them to me. “Consider it a sign-on bonus. And you can expect to earn that much every week. After you’ve proven yourself a loyal worker, that is.”

My mind is spinning beyond belief. I feel like I could pass out at any given moment, but somehow my feet remain beneath me. I thought I was a dead man, and now… now I’m being offered a job?!

Panic finally begins to set in. Am I really cut out to work for these guys? Like, truthfully? From what I’ve seen, they’re ruthless killers. Are they expecting me to start gunning down fellas in alleyways? The words tumble past my lips, malformed and wholly inadequate. “S-sir. I… I just don’t know… if I can… if I could…”

Charles sighs, partially withdrawing the proffered money. “Well. We could explore the other options presented to us tonight…”

In a flash, my mind clears. His intentions aren’t hidden in the slightest. I’m accepting this job, or I’m dead. I snap to attention, as though facing down a drill sergeant. “I’ll take the job, sir.”

His beaming smile returns to him. “Wonderful! I’m glad to have you on the team, Samuel!” He shakes my hand, clapping the bills into my grip with the same motion. “We’re Local 237, over in Brachlyn. Start time is 8 AM, don’t be late!” He pauses. “Erm… do you have your own car?”

“N-no, sir. Will I need one?”

“Perhaps, down the road, but we can get that sorted out for you when the time comes. Until then, I’d recommend picking up a transit map to plot out which buses you want to take. That is, unless you want to blow all that money on cab fare!” His tone is almost jovial, like an uncle who recognized you at a ball game. “We’ll have you fill out some paperwork tomorrow and get you acquainted with our operation. I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful fit!”

I rock back on my heels, still in complete disbelief at this turn of events. Sure, I might not have had much of a choice in this matter, but… instead of a bodybag, I was given a new job that’ll pay me over three times what I was making at Sal’s. I’ll… I’ll be able to give Aubrey that nice dinner.

I turn my attention from the money in my palm up to Charles, but motion from the corner of my eye causes me to recoil. The midnight blue stegosaurus takes one enormous stride to come within arm’s reach of me. I squeeze my eyelids shut in anticipation of being punched out by an incoming fist or punched out of the time clock of life… but neither comes. Instead, Pierce only gestures angrily toward me as he addresses his… I guess our boss.

“Charles, are you out of your fuckin’ mind?! You’re actually giving this skinnie money? The money HE admitted he wasn’t gonna return to us?!”

Charles turns his half-lidded eyes to his enraged employee. “Yes, Pierce. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Pierce balks. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this. We get rid of one dishonest, thieving skinnie, and you immediately go find another one. You must really enjoy your hand gettin’ stung, Charles, cuz you keep jamming it into honeycombs full of backstabbing bees.”

A click of his tongue expresses Charles’s growing annoyance. “Your analogies leave a lot to be desired, Pierce. Besides, it’s because of you that we have a vacancy that needs filling.” I feel a chill fire down my spine. I hadn’t considered that I just got offered the job that was occupied by the fella I watched die only a few feet away from where we stand. Charles turns from Pierce to me as a grin spreads across his face. “In fact… I say we pick up right where we had left off.”

I don’t understand the meaning of his words, but the dark blue in Pierce’s scales seems to drain away.

Charles stamps out the small remaining butt of his cigar on the pavement before tucking his thumbs behind his belt and rocking his knees. “Pierce, once Samuel here gets processed and oriented… he’ll be joining you and Marty on your rounds.” He drinks in the sight of the stegosaurus’s petrification. His smile shifts from amicable to sinister. “Do try to train him right this time. I’d hate to see a repeat of what happened with Eggsy.”