Page 48 of Fast and Dirty

“It’s Naked Ned,” Agnes says plainly, and Hattie and I shriek before turning to find her standing only feet behind us with a hand on her hip.

“Is that a zoot suit?” I ask.

“What of it?” She asks, looking very put out.

“Gramma, there are two men at your door, and you’re dressed like a pimp,” Hattie points out. “Start explaining.”

“I run a speakeasy themed gambling ring.” She shrugs and both mine and Hattie’s jaws drop to the linoleum.

“What? You said that was a joke!” I accuse, referring to the first day we had breakfast in the diner.

“I said I run it out of my basement. It’s actually out of my garage. Gotcha,” she reveals without even cracking a smile. “Boys, tonight’s cancelled. Apparently that dumbass mechanic is having a poker night, so head on over there,” she commands, pointing in the opposite direction.

Not bitter at all.

“You know,you really didn’t need to send your friends away, Ag,” I admonish my roommate from the recliner.

“You think I could just go about my business with you whippersnappers cramping my style? Funk dat,” she shuts down.

“Why, Gramma?” Hattie asks from around a bite of cheese and pepperoni.

“Why not?” Agnes counters from the end of the couch with her legs slung over the arm. She’s still in her pinstripe pimp suit and dangling a piece of extra cheese over her face. “This town in boring, and people want to have a good time.”

“This town is peaceful.” I’ve been here for roughly a month and it’s been a welcome respite from the uptight world of chaos I came from. But I suppose people that lived here a long time crave to be shaken up once in a while.

“Shhh!” Toby shushes as he leans forward, chewing on a piece of cheesy bread. “I’m into the movie. What is this anyway? It’s got a young, hot John Wick.”

“Speed.” Agnes answers, just as there’s a knock on the door for the third time tonight. “Answer that for me, slave.”

I hop up off the couch and dust my hands of any pizza crumbs, and whip the door open to find none other than Maggie.

“Oh!” I greet, definitely caught by surprise.

“Hi Kira,” she flashes me a warm smile and I notice she has a fairly weighed-down tote on her arm.

“Hi, are you here to…gamble and imbibe?” I ask, tilting my head uncomfortably. She doesn’t appear to be wearing any flapper or gangster gear.

“Actually…” she looks sheepish but I step aside to let her in. “The biscuits you made on the day you worked for me, well… they were really a big hit.And I haven’t been able to recreate them.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, totally confused. “You’re the one who showed me how to make them.”

“I know, but you must’ve done something different.”

“Well I blew up one of your ovens, but somehow I don’t think that had anything to do with the biscuits coming out well.”

Her face lights up. “I’m getting a new oven!” She announces. “That thing was so old, and the insurance money is not only paying for an updated one, but I also get to slap some new paint on the walls! So I also came to thank you!”

“Oh…I sputter, feeling my circuits shorting because this is seriously screwed. “Anytime?” I offer with a high shrug.

“Oh Kira, it turned out to be a godsend. And if you can just show me what you did with the biscuits, business will be beautiful! I brought all the ingredients,” she tells me, giving the bag on her shoulder a jiggle. “If we can get those biscuits the way you made them, I bet I could afford to hire you back!”

“Right this way…” I usher her to the kitchen.

West

“A bowl of chips?Seriously that’s all you fucking have?” Hunt gripes, as he emerges down the stairs that lead to my apartment. “You realize this is poker, not a tea party, right?”

“Oh sorry, dick. I forgot you like a nice spread with charcuterie and assorted cheeses.”

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