SOLOMON'S BRIDGE {Part II/WORK IN PROGRESS}

WATCHMAN *23*

BOBBY

Outside, Bobby pauses with his hands in his pockets. He lifts his nose to the air, sniffs the scent of a fresh breeze, unhindered by cigarette fumes or confused perfumes, but soon, the third world state of Nigeria creeps back into the scene, rising from the stench of the open gutter to nearly choke him with it's putrid potency.

"Your friends were real nice, Mr..."

She comes to stand beside him, close enough for their bodies to touch. Her short, spiky golden hair frames an oval face, accentuating her large, brown eyes. Vacant eyes, is what she has, empty, sparkling out of her creamy skin. She wrinkles her long nose and says softly, "My name is Angel."

"Hi, Angel. The waitress with the great defense."

She giggles. The sound is throaty, sexy. She wears full clothes now, a baggy T shirt on a baggy three quarter jeans skirt. "That's alright-it goes with the job. I'm a final year student at the college." She continues, ignoring his silence, "What's your name?"

"Robert."

"Robert. Nice." She smoothes down the sides of her skirt with soft palms. His eyes are drawn to her hour glass figure, "You're a nice man," she breathes, "Why did you leave a sleeping guy behind? Won't you take him home?"

"The other nice guy, the real big guy, will take him home," he replies, forcefully tearing his eyes away from the very seductive outline of her lush body. He needs to pray.

She smacks her lips, "So, can I tempt you to come back inside?" she artfully inclines her head of fake hair toward the gates, "Maybe you could buy me a drink."

"No."

A bit taken aback by his fast response, she nudges his arm with her shoulder, "Oh, I understand. You don't want your friends to fight you over me. We can go to many other places; even, my place, it's close by."

"No."

Her smile fades away. He patts down his pockets, his wallet holds a thousand. He gives it to her. She watches him enter his car and leave, before she changes, shape shifting into a dark filmy shadow that slithers around parked cars till it finds the custom fitted Jaguar.

Tonight's business is on account of---wait---is that---? Oh no! What's she doing here?! A long haired, half caste lady gets out of a taxi that quite suddenly, pulls up in front of the gates, she pays off the driver, then looks about. It can recognize her face anywhere on Earth! Edima McFoy! Quickly, taking cover, the shadow dives through and into the Jaguar. Damn!

The entity has nothing but hatred for this woman, who almost destroyed his marine master's avatar. It thinks angrily to itself, she doesn't know when to quit! Snarling, fangs bare, it watches with yellow eyes as she storms into the One Gate, a knight crusader on a mission, and turning heads. What is she doing here?

The entity quietly waits in the car. It observes the very crowded back gates, and sees Trombone exit soon enough, helping to pull Frank along, they must've used the men's lavatory, is it any wonder why the drinkers take this way out, after all the alcohol they consume? The car door opens, the entity watches a tired Trombone carefully lay Frank across the back seat. Of course, he can't see the entity...

Someone's husband is out cold. For a man with such high taste Frank isn't much to look at. Short, skinny, pot bellied, big headed, thick, rambunctious lips, owlish, beady looking eyes. How on earth did his wife stand him, night after night, morning after morning, year after year? Love is a scam! This, the entity thought, since it had assassinated tastier looking people, before.