Deadly Justice

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THE BLACK VAN PULLED over on the south side of Eleventh Street. The driver rolled down a smoked glass window and smiled. He was a handsome man, especially when he smiled.

“Are you the one?” he asked.

The girl on the street corner stopped chomping her gum. “That depends on what you’re looking for, pal.”

“I’m looking for you.”

“Then I guess I’m the one.” She returned his smile, adding a raised eyebrow to complete the message. She was wearing a turquoise tube top, black spandex pants, and a black leather jacket with fringe dangling from the sleeves. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Peace. Contentment. An end to suffering.”

“That’s a tall order. Probably will cost you extra.”

He shrugged. “Cheap at any price.”

“Who’s cheap? Are you calling me cheap?”

“Of course not.” He flashed his winning smile again. “Step into the light, fair maiden. So I can see you.”

She hesitated a moment, then approached the van. The neon signs of the massage parlors and sex shops flashed about her, bringing her features into sharp focus.

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