Page 29 of Prosper

Pinky McCabe lit a cigarette, put her nose to the glass of the phone booth, and watched the big old bear take a nose dive into the garbage can. She tried to remember everything she had ever learned about bears and came up with … nothing.

Damn.

What a day. First, she gets stiffed on a tip from a bunch of college kids who took up three tables in her section at the diner, then they turned what should a have been a half-hour meal into a two-hour study session. On the way home she hits a pothole and blows a hole the size of a dinner plate in her worn tire, and the one night she needs her big brother to help her out, he’s dead drunk in a bar.

Noise!The notion burst through her head and pushed all other thoughts aside. She had seen it once on one of those morning television shows. It was an interview with a guy who scared a killer grizzly bear off in a state park by making a ruckus.

She needed to provide enough distraction to get the bear away from the garbage can so she could get to her car. The damn phone booth only had three glassed-in sides, and the garbage can next to it was overflowing with Styrofoam takeout containers. It was only a matter of time before the animal went searching from one trashcan to the other.

Pinky began to dig frantically in her deep purse to find just the thing that would make enough noise to scare off the bear: lipstick, tampons, mascara, hair ties, half a pack of chewing gum, hairspray, nail polish, wallet, lighter, pack of cigarettes, birth control pills, and a joint. She scoured further into the large bag, her hand moving past an impressive amount of loose breath mints, until she landed on it. With shaking fingers, Pinky opened up the lavender hard-shell case and retrieved what she liked to call her “lady gun.” The Beretta’s handgrip was bedazzled with pink crystals and that custom job alone had set Pinky back a month’s salary. But with the hours she kept and the neighborhood she lived in, the sense of security that owning the gun allowed her was worth it … and adding that little bit of bling was just a no-brainer and something she couldn’t resist. Really, who could?

Pinky threw the purse over her shoulder, gripped her handgun, squared her shoulders, and planted her feet apart for balance. Then she took careful aim at the empty garbage can to the left of the foraging creature, squeezed the trigger, fired off the shot, and … missed. It took her two more shots before she managed to hit her target and be rewarded with theping…ping… sound of the bullet hitting the empty metal can.

Unfortunately, the bear was unimpressed with the noise the shot had made and continued his rummaging. Pinky thought about just shooting the damn bear, but she had never shot at a live anything. And she sure as hell didn’t think this bear was where she should start. Her best guess was that she’d probably just wound him, and everyone knew what they said about a wounded animal.

While the bear stayed busy, head deep and furry ass up in the garbage can, she decided to make a run for the car. Pinky was small but she was fast. Once in the car, she locked all the doors then leaned on the horn. Nothing. He didn’t even pause in his quest for a leftover meal to glance her way. Pinky was afraid that the cab driver would pull into the stop area, take one look at the bear, and pull out again. She started the car and despite the blown-out tire, pulled out of the rest stop. She drove on the tire’s rim until she felt far enough away from the bear to be safe, then pulled over to the side of the road and put her flashers on. Pinky shut down the car, turned the key once more for the radio, and lit up a cigarette. Then, she got out, leaned against the hood, and waited.

It wasn’t long before the sound of a motor caught Pinky’s attention. She looked down the road to see one headlight pull into the rest stop she had just vacated and then exit out. Pinky watched with interest as the vehicle approached. She quickly went back into the car and grabbed the gun out of her purse. Pinky shoved the bedazzled firearm into the deep pocket of her waitress uniform … because better safe than sorry.

The motorcycle pulled in behind her car. A man got off and started making his way towards her. Pinky put her hand in the pocket where the gun sat waiting.

“You Petey’s sister?” The man stopped a couple of feet away from her. He was a big guy and Pinky had to tilt her head up to look at his face.

“Yep.”

“I’m here to help you.”

He didn’t look like a “I’m-here-to-help-you” sort of guy to Pinky, but more of a “I’m-here-to-rob-rape-and-leave-you-for-dead” kind instead. Big, grim, muscular, and menacing, he was dressed in black from head to toe: black biker boots, black road leathers, black t-shirt. And the parts of him that weren’t covered in black clothing were enveloped in black ink. Tattoos covered both his arms and extended down to his fists, and he wore heavy silver skull rings on each one of his fingers.

“You don’t look like a cab driver and that sure as hell isn’t a cab.” Pinky eyed him with suspicion.

“And you were supposed to be waiting a quarter mile back there.” Prosper looked around her to the flat tire. “Driving on that flat just cost you a rim. I can’t change that tire now.”

“Yeah, well better than being eaten by a damn grizzly bear,” Pinky told him. “Did you see that trash all over the ground back there? That was one hungry big boy who did that, and I didn’t want to be dessert.”

Prosper grinned despite himself. “I don’t think they have grizzly bears around here.”

“Well, could be that you’re wrong. Besides, black bear, brown bear, grizzly bear, polar bear … a bear’s a bear. Unless, of course, it’s a koala bear. I don’t think I’d be afraid of a koala bear …” Pinky bit her bottom lip as if considering it.

Prosper took a moment to examine her. She looked like … well, no one he had ever seen before. Pinky was short—five foot … maybe five-one, tops—but had this big head of blonde hair all puffed up on top that made her seem taller. The puff gave way to a mess of curls that ran down her shoulders and back. Her lips were covered in pink gloss and her teeth were small and white. Pinky’s blue eyes were huge and fringed with lashes thick from mascara. She had barely-there breasts, a small waist, rounded hips, and her legs were long and skinny. But it was her ears that caught and held Prosper’s rapt attention. They stuck out and came to a little point at the top, giving her the odd appearance of a wood sprite.

Or a fairy. Or a genie who had lost her bottle.

The outfit she had on was short and tight, and looked to be some kind of uniform. Prosper leaned in to read the badge that was sitting jauntily on her left breast.

PINKYwas spelled out all in capital letters.

“Pinky?” Prosper couldn’t help but grin. Name was damn perfect for her.

“Yup. And if you’re gonna ask me what I named the other one, don’t bother. Every working woman who has the shit luck of having to wear a badge gets that old joke at least a couple of times a week, and it’s never funny. What’s your name?”

“Prosper.”

“First or last?”

“First,” he told her, then he nodded to the bike. “Only way I’m gonna be able to get you home is on the back of my bike. Only do more damage to the car riding on that rim.”

Pinky took a closer look at him then. “How come you didn’t call me a cab like I asked you to?”

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