THUGLIT Issue Twelve by Leon Marks, Rob Hart, Justin Porter, Mike Miner, Edward Hagelstein, Kevin Garvey, T. Maxim Simmler, J.J. Sinisi Page A

than when it was closed.
    She excused he rself past me as I heard the dryer stop. I forced myself to look out into the short gloomy distance, and not behind me where she bent over to unload the machine.
    " What brings you to Leavenworth?" she asked.
    " Business."
    " What kind of business you in?" She sounded like she was yelling though she was only a few feet behind me.
    " Salesman," I lied back to her.
    I heard rustling and the aluminum dryer door close. Then she stood beside me, a towel and a small pair of je ans folded over her arm.
    " And what do you sell, Mr. Salesman?"
    " Good advice."
    " Really? I could always use some. How much it cost?"
    " I'm having a buy-one get-one today."
    " Great deal." That smile again. Her dark lashes twisted upwards, stark against her fair skin. Her hair was fairer, tied back in a tight ponytail, strands of it appearing almost white with lovely yellow accents. "I'll take it."
    " The first is your laundry."
    " What about my laundry?" she pouted, faux-insulted.
    " If the ice machine is bleeding orange, and no doubt you've run the tap in this place since you've checked in, I would advise against washing anything else in this filthy water."
    " But they were muddy," the pouty face stayed, my knees, nearly did not. "Fine, that's the one I'll pay for. What's my freebie?"
    " Depends."
    " On?"
    " What time you're checking out."
    " That's a little forward, Mr. Salesman." She said it the way she was supposed to say it, a little insulted with a pang of disappointment that the nice man she was flirting with just made a pass. It was the reaction of a good Midwestern lady. But her mouth, slightly askew, pointing a jagged tip at me, spoke volumes about what this girl really thought of Midwestern lady etiquette.
    " No disrespect," I played along. "I meant my friends and I won't be here long and I'm contractually bound to only give one piece of advice per day, even in bogo cases such as these."
    A giggle. "Fair enough. I'm leaving tomorrow morning. So maybe I'll meet you at our exquisite continental breakfast."
    " Oh, I hadn't heard."
    " It's wonderful. Baked brioche, croissants, deviled eggs even. I've been to Paris by way of Nice and never have I ever eaten its equal."
    " Sounds positively charming."
    She walked away, clothes slung over her shoulder. "How much do I owe you?" she asked without stopping.
    " For what?"
    " The bogo."
    " It's on the house."
    " You're not a very good salesman."
    She was now only twenty paces away and already she began to dematerialize, like a spacewoma n in some horrible pulp sci-fi.
    She continued, "If I didn't know better I'd think you were lying to me."
    " Good thing you don't know any better."
    " Good thing Mr. Salesman, good thing."
    Then, as if she knew it would happen, she disappeared and my world went red again. Nothing stood before me now except the ghost of her voice and an unforgiving wall of dark Kansas night, enraptured by the steam clutch of my own dark thoughts.
    Back at the room, the card game had ceased. Connie lay on the bed next to our bags, his toes three feet from its edge. His handgun rested on his chest but the magazine was on the end table next to him. When I walked in, I could see the empty handle of the gun. It made me briefly think how useless guns were without bullets, and conversely, bullets without a gun, like an illness without a host.
    " The hell you run off to? Didn't I tell you not to go far?"
    " Where's Tate?"
    " Taking a piss."
    The bowl flushed.
    "You didn't even get any ice."
    " Machine's broke."
    " That's a damn—" he stopped mid-sentence and looked past me to the window beside the door.
    I turned and saw the police car pull beside our van. Neither of us moved. The sink turned on in the bathroom. A cop stepped out of the driver 's side door. Then his partner did the same from the opposite side. They said something muffled to each other, inaudible beyond the reach of the sturdy door and double-paned glass.
    Connie rolled off the bed, grabbed