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Before the lug had fired, Rick spotted the familiar derby and pea coat--trademarks of the South Side Doherty Mob. “I bet it was...O’Banion,” he told the cat, who blinked at him owlishly while its chin nestled against its paws. “Sure...Lucky it was.” Rick glanced at the sky. A glowering full moon ducked behind one of the many skyscrapers. Odds were he’d be dead by sunrise. A siren wailed. The cat’s tail writhed like an albino serpent. He shivered. Winced from the pain. The cat was purring like an engine. Its bright eyes seemed almost metallic. Twin coins reflecting the moon. Sidling forward on its haunches, it stepped gingerly over his splayed out legs. Watching it move was fascinating in spite of the pain. He thought it would leave him, but it pranced over to the first sagging garbage can and leapt quietly onto the flattened lid. Rick sat motionless. Watching. His hands were limp white starfish standing out against the shadow of his clothes. The cat tentatively inspected its new resting place before finally settling in. Rick thought about how comfortable Vera’s shapely legs had wrapped around his waist, how she’d drawn him deeper inside her. The cat was staring at him. Transfixed. His fingers tingled. The alley was a washed-out gray. Rick felt naked without his hat. Purring. Hypnotic gaze. Eyes sparkling like dry white wine. Maybe I’ll wind up on the slab next to Vera, he thought dreamily. PurrrrPurrrrPurrrr... Blood. Soaking his crotch. Through a haze of double vision, Rick saw Vera materialize at the far end of the alley. She was wearing a red costume with glittering sequins and a plume of ostrich feathers trailing behind her. The costume seemed to be dripping, melting as though made of liquid. She came closer. He realized it wasn’t a costume at all. Vera was covered in blood. She stopped right in front of him, proud to have hit her mark. Her eyes continued to dance to a tune only she seemed to hear. “Yoo-hoo!” Vera chortled. Her voice was slurred. A bubbling gurgle. “Rick, my love...” Rick smiled. His eyes tried to focus, but couldn’t seem to do it. “You’re not...real,” he managed. “You have to get ‘em, Rick. O’Banion. Tracey. Doherty. You have to make them pay...” Rick fought his way through a painful coughing spell. Finally, he said, “I’m a little...busy here, Vera.” She shooed at him with her hand. Scarlet droplets splashed across the brick wall behind him. A warm weight pressed against his chest. Rick tried to shift his legs and change position, but they decided not to cooperate. “You’re dead...and so am I,” he managed through laborious breaths. “No you’re not,” Vera whispered. She was straddling him now, leaning closer. Their noses were almost touching. “You’re solid, Rick. Just like your name.” Her strong thigh muscles tightened against his ribs. He was smothering. “...Can’t...breathe...”
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