The girl nods again.
“I was hoping he could help. I was hoping he saw her or knew somebody who did.”
I look once more at the photograph. The girl captured there looks happy. Hopeful. Excited at the prospect of life. I wish I could do something to help this girl find her sister, but right now there’s just too much on my plate.
I hand the photograph back to the girl.
“Good luck finding your sister.”
The girl doesn’t take the photograph. She isn’t even looking at me. Her gaze is directed at something over my shoulder.
I glance back to see an old BMW coming up the street, two men in front, both wearing sunglasses.
I turn back to the girl but she’s already moving away from me, hurrying up the sidewalk.
“Hey.”
The girl doesn’t answer, just keeps walking.
“Hey!”
The girl starts hurrying her pace.
Behind me, the BMW’s engine growls as it shoots forward.
The girl is sprinting now, turning into the alleyway beside the motel.
The BMW’s tires screech as it makes the hard turn into the alleyway, following her.
I shove the crumbled photograph in my pocket and hurry up the sidewalk. I notice that girl across the street again, the one taking pictures with her cell phone. Because of the commotion, her attention shifts toward me, and across the two blocks our eyes meet. She holds her phone up again, only for a moment, but I’m certain that she just took a picture. My picture.
Oh, hell no.
Part of me wants to stray off course, head directly to this girl and take the phone from her, smash it so hard the memory card shatters into a hundred pieces, but before I can, the girl in the alleyway cries out.
The BMW is parked at an angle, its front bumper kissing the side of the building and making it impossible for the girl to escape. Both men are out of the car now, and one of them has grabbed the girl, shoved her up against the wall.
I glance back once more at the girl across the street. This girl now looking up and down the street, as if looking for something, and then hurrying over to the other side. For some reason I think she’s coming to the prostitute’s aid—maybe she herself is a prostitute as well—but instead she climbs the steps and disappears through the motel’s entrance.
The girl in the alleyway cries out again.
I start down the alleyway, and don’t speak until I’m only a few feet away.
“Hey, do you guys smell something?”
Because of their sunglasses, it’s impossible to tell whether or not these men are glaring at me, but I’ll bet five bucks they are.
I take another step closer, overdramatically suck in air through my nose.
“Yeah, it definitely doesn’t smell good. Do you want to know what it smells like?”
Neither man answers.
I say, “It smells like two assholes.”
One of the men turns to me, his hands clenching into fists.
“Bitch, you better get the fuck out of here before we turn you out.”
I take another heavy sniff and then nod, pointing at the man.
“Yeah, you especially smell like a dirty asshole. When was the last time somebody wiped you?”
The man is clearly not used to having a woman talk back to him. His anger turns to rage, and he rushes at me at full speed. Which makes taking him out almost too easy.
I duck and move to the side when he comes at me, stepping behind him and grabbing the back of his head and smashing his face straight into the nearest wall. Blood geysers from his nose. He stumbles back. Tries to take a swing at me. I duck this attempt even more easily, grab his arm and twist it behind his back, pulling up hard enough that his body becomes mine, a simple puppet, moving in whatever direction I want.
The other man has let go of the girl. He pulls a switchblade from his pocket, starts toward us.
I jerk the man’s arm up and turn him toward his friend.
The man with the knife pauses, considering his options.
I say, “I’m going to dislocate your friend’s shoulder because nobody likes a smelly asshole. You want me to dislocate your shoulder too?”
The man with the knife snarls.
“Fuck you, bitch.”
“Suit yourself.”
I twist the man’s arm enough to hear something pop. The man screams. I push him forward. He stumbles a bit, almost falls into his friend. With the other man’s attention focused on his friend for that instant, he doesn’t see me coming. Within seconds, I’ve snatched the knife from his hand, stabbed him in the stomach, then grabbed his other arm and jerked it back until I hear that pop again.
He screams, too.
I look up at the girl, who’s staring at me in horror.
“Leave. Pack your things and leave town. Leave the city. Leave the state. Start a new life.”
“But—but—but my sister—”
“Is not coming back. You know that. Whatever happened to her, she’s gone.”
The girl again looks to be on the verge of tears. She stands frozen for an instant before shaking her head as if waking from a dream. Immediately she squeezes between the wall and the car and hurries down the alleyway.
The knife is still in the man’s stomach. I lean down and pull it out. Blood starts to ooze from the wound.
“Might want to put pressure on that.”
The man’s hand scrambles to find the wound.
I wipe the blade on the man’s shirt so it’s clean and then close the knife and slip it into my pocket.
“Think I’m going to keep this as a memento of our time together. Thanks, fellas. It’s been swell.”
Both of them swear and call me names, but it’s hard to take them seriously when they’re lying on the ground groaning in pain.
I reach the end of the alleyway just as the girl with the cell phone emerges from the motel’s entrance.
I step back before she notices me. Peeking around the corner, I watch as she looks up and down the block again and then hurriedly crosses the street. She goes
