The Manuscript Read Free Page A

working girls appraised his scowling face in a blink, mutually deciding to look to other sinners for their wages.
    On the sidewalk outside the club, the man cupped a cigarette, lighting it with a battered steel zippo – a legacy of long years in the military. Inhaling the strong smoke deep into his lungs, he leaned against the building’s wall and looked up into the Fort Worth night sky. This time of year, pollution was minimal, so the view of the constellations was breathtaking, with an occasional shooting star putting in an appearance for the patient and vigilant.
    He chuckled to himself, amused at some folly of thought, and made his way around the corner to the parking area, where his four wheel drive Ford truck waited to ferry him home. The expanse was nearly full of worn, tired vehicles – evidence that today was payday and the crowd was in the mood for a fiesta . Most were trucks, with the odd low-rider sixties car lurking between them like predatory jungle cats. These were working class conveyances of men who made their livings with their hands; the lot was devoid of the sleek German and Japanese vehicles to be found in the more ritzy areas of town.
    The man was fumbling with his car keys in the gloom when he heard a scraping sound immediately behind him. Even though inebriated, he sensed imminent danger, but the alcohol and accumulation of years had slowed his reactions to the point that he never stood a chance. The long serrated blade of the hunting knife plunged into his back, puncturing his lung with the first stab and his liver with the second. Blinding pain shot through his body, and he barely registered a vice-like hand grabbing his hair, forcing his head back while the razor sharp knife-edge slit his throat.
    The lifeless corpse crumpled to the ground as the attacker continued into the lot, shedding the blood-spattered disposable plastic raincoat as he walked. A truck engine started, and the lights on a Dodge crew cab illuminated the pavement as the assailant climbed into the rear seat.
    The steel-capped toe of an ostrich skin boot protruded at an improbable angle from behind the tire of a parked vehicle, the only evidence of the brief scuffle aside from the slowly spreading pool of blood.
    The truck traversed the length of the parking area at a measured pace before turning onto the street and pulling off into the steamy Texas night.
     
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    The crowd watched in furtive discomfort as the couple fought; the young woman was obviously drunk or high, punctuating her tirade with an occasional blow to the man’s chest. He gripped her arms in an effort to contain her rage, which only served to stoke her anger further. This was obviously a familiar dynamic for them. The party-goers tried to tune out the commotion, feeling embarrassed on behalf of the shameless players.
    The man waited until her outburst had ended, and then leaned forward and whispered something into her ear. Her face changed from anger, to confusion, to fear, and then back to blind rage, as she struggled to break free of his vice-like grip. Disgusted with her display, he pushed her away in a gesture that clearly conveyed he was done with her and stalked purposefully from the courtyard, past the groups of drinkers averting their eyes, making for the large circular driveway and the long line of cars parked along its edge. She ran after him, furiously brandishing an empty beer bottle, which she swung wildly at his head. It struck him solidly on the shoulder blade. He whirled and slapped her, causing her to drop the bottle, the sting of his hand nothing compared to the humiliation of being abandoned for all to see, discarded like refuse by a man she couldn’t please or keep.
    She stumbled and tripped, tears streaming down her face, and fell sobbing onto the gravel of the drive as he continued towards the cars; her cries alternating between cursing him and begging to give her another chance, that she was sorry, she knew she’d crossed the