It Always Rains On The Unloved

"What's your name?" the whore asked, her voice seemed sultry and unnatural.

"Parker", the cowboy replied, "and turn that shit off. I ain't a client of yours."

"Just my normal voice, Mr. Cowboy. So, you gonna screw me or what?"

Parker, suddenly burning with anger, grabbed the whore's throat and said, "Listen you bitch, I've never forced my way in and I don't intend to start now. If you got something constructive to say, say it; otherwise just shut up and go to sleep."

The whore then studied Parker, eyes suddenly cold yet alluring; she probably spent too much time on the Stetson.

"Why'd you take me then?" the whore finally asked.

"You have nice eyes." was Parker's reply.

For the next few hours, the whore poured her very soul into Parker, making him feel very uncomfortable for he had very few intimate moments in his life.

Her name was Andrea, she was 19 and her family was dirt poor. The only reason she was on the streets trying to pull in some poor suckers was that she wanted to put her little brother through school. Parker felt that Andrea was a sweet kid, but still an kid and probably not hard enough for the life she chose; one day she'd end up with the wrong client and?

"He'll come for me," the whore said.

"Have to kill him anyway, he's worth $750,000 to my employer," Parker said, his voice taking on a cold and professional tone.

"So mercenary. How much for me?

"About $10,000. You ain't really anybody to my employer."

"I'm somebody to someone," the whore said quickly. Her voice indicated that she was a little hurt.

"Not to my employer."

"To you?"

"No" Parker said, his voice turning from cold and professional to melancholy and distant, "I've got nobody."

"That's very sad. People need people."

Go to sleep."

The lights went out and the only sound heard was Parker's snoring.

Parker woke with the first rays of the morning sun and found the room to be filled with smoke. His first reaction was that there was a fire, but he came to see that it was just steam coming from the bathroom. The whore had just finished her shower.

Then it came to him, on the wings of Seraphs, a woman, her body sleek and her eyes piercing, rushing through the steam and straight to Parker's heart. It had been a long time since he had seen this woman but her eyes still enchanted him, blue-grey and able to read the language of his soul. Parker spoke a name; her name and then reality struck and the dream broke like a shattering vase.

"Whose name is that?" came the whore's, Andrea's, voice. She had just emerged from the bathroom in a robe and with a towel wrapped like a turban over her head.

"What name?" Parker inquired.

"That name you were saying."

"Nobody."

"I don't believe you. Was she your girlfriend or something? Maybe your wife?"

"She was nobody," Parker said sternly, and an awkward silence came with the drawing of the last word. Then, as if bidden, a note came from under the door that broke the silence and sprung both Parker and Andrea into action.

The writing on the note was perfect cursive, indicating that the writer was a major control-freak. All that was written on the note was an address, a time and a sum of money.

"Something wrong?" Andrea inquired.

"Your boss wants you back" Parker handed her the card.

"Let's go then."

"You seem pretty enthusiastic. Hey, why didn't you run away last night?"

Andrea looked at Parker, running her beautiful eyes across him and she finally said,

"You've got a cool hat."