 Slap my face and tell me you love me by A Femme Fatale, Circa 1940
Hello, Mr. Ends. Surprised to see me? No, I didn’t think so. Don’t let the hairstyle fool you. It’s me—same perfume, same anklet. I let myself in. I hope you don’t mind. Convenient, the door being open when I didn’t have a key. Would you like a cigarette? Oh that’s right—you don’t smoke.
You’re not very tall are you, but you try to be. Not that it’s any of my business. But I could make it my business, couldn’t I? And you wouldn’t like that, now, would you. The payroll’s too big.
Do you like begonias, Mr. Ends? Or should I call you Mr. Napier? Ends suits you better, baby. Not that it comes close to being a decent name, just that it’s better than the latter. Sends shivers down my spine. I’m talking about the begonias now. You can eat the petals, you know. But it only takes so much sweetness to corrupt them before they rot and turn to mush.
I’ve seen Little Joe around a lot these days. Just a tip: Next time you tell him to follow me, have him drive something other than his bright yellow coupe if you want him to be secret about it. Otherwise, he could at least say, “hello.”
So, Mr. Ends, how is the private eye business anyway? Lucrative? You still like to play the horses, it seems. What happened there, anyway? You had all the reigns, up front like one of the biggies, then you took the lead and when the backstretch came you bit the dust. You forgot to take a breather, didn’t you? Maybe I did suck it out of you. I guess your rate card is bound to go bongo when you’re in the saddle with me, baby.
Times have been tough, Peter. I’ve had to go back to working small-time gigs for G.B. You gotta understand, he’s more forgiving than you. I had to stick the fork in you just so he’d trust me again. Sure I left you dry, and I know Charlie and Buzz left you bloody, but I never meant to hurt you like that, Shakes. You gotta understand, I did what I did to save your life. I’m sorry you didn’t figure it all out in time. The fellow you were looking for wasn’t a fellow at all. It was a gal––me––and I was too close, and we were smooching.
I haven’t lived a good life, Shakes. I’ve been bad, worse than you can know, but I––I love you. Don’t you still love me, Shakes? Tell me you love me or tell me you hate me I don’t care. Hit me. Punch me. Throw me on the floor. I need to feel something besides this aching heart.
It’s your wife, isn’t it? She’s not like you and me, Shakes. She’s not a hardened criminal. Did you forget how much fun it was being outlaws? Come away with me. Let’s leave this silly life behind and move to Tahiti. It’ll be like before, only this time we’ll be unstoppable. Please, Shakes. Shakes, Please. |
