if i had a credit every time i cleaned up one of frankie-boy's messes . . .

oh, i don't judge, hon. she's the perfect age to get into dancin'. well now, i was . . . in the area and i thought i'd just . . . stroll on by. we're groovy, ain't we?

my, my, orange-pie. how's the spin?

*well-l-l-l* . . .

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ they say you saved the big man. ㅤ ㅤ

( when he's gone sasha takes out her cigarette case, lighting up. she takes a long drag, shaking the hair from her face. ) men just ain't what they used to be.

. . . alright, dusty. y'*know* i just can't stay mad at you. but i want something that *bites*!

enough said.

( a little laugh. sasha runs her tongue across her bottom lip and walks over. the click of her heels against the floor sounds off like the hammer in a loaded pistol. she brushes a speck of dust off his shoulder. ) sure, hon. i can wait a couple days. i'm easy. question is, are you?

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ better hit the road, before the road hits us. ㅤ

now don’t go breaking my heart, sugar. i don't run a mission . . . and i sure don't play for 'maybe.' you want the rhythm? you pay the band. *'soon'* don't buy the gin, and it definitely don't keep these heels dancing. *we're all here for a good time*, aren't we? what's the hold-up?

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ hey. wanna take a ride? ㅤ

well, y'see hon, that's just what happens when i don't get my credits.

i needed a slug of rotgut synthetic, an oxy-tab that didn’t bounce, a month in a biodome with real clouds. i needed a condo on a world with a night cycle. what i had was a moth-eaten trench, a felt hat, & a .38 air-thumper that leaked oil. i checked the cylinder & kicked my way out into the smog.

sasha valentine. here's my card, sugar. ( a card somehow finds its way into your hand. )