The wind whipped across the penthouse balcony. Murder stepped back inside to avoid the chill. It couldn’t hurt her, but comfort was still a consideration. Levi was seated on the sofa in the main room flipping through channels.
“Are we still going to the thing?” he asked, his boredom with the idiot box seeping through his comment.
“The cure cancer fundraiser? Of course. We have to. Giselle will be very upset if we don’t.”
“She didn’t come to your recital.”
“Show, Levi. At least try not to sound old and stuffy tonight.”
He broke into a cockney twist on his regular, exceedingly proper, British accent. “Oy! We been meanin’ to make it out ta one a’ yer gigs, there lassie.”
“Alright, alright, any luck on you finding a date?”
“My entire little black book for New York is now living in the Hidden Brook retirement and assisted living community. You realize we haven’t actually been here since 1977, right?”
“Yes, but we’ve been here for several months. You’ve usually had at least a gentleman caller or two by now. Are you feeling well?”
“I’m fine.” His pout told her he wasn’t fine.
“Could it be? Levi Esmund has struck out?”
He handed her the detective's business card. “I know you’re curious. I saw the way you looked at him once the annoyance of not finishing your set wore off. It can’t hurt to keep him close enough to not look into our past.”
“I’ll have to call him early. It’d be cruel to take him with us in that department store suit.”
“Cart, horse... dial…”
Murder thought about how long it had been since they were last in NYC. Too very long.
CBGB 1977
“Ashley” pulled her brand new Lotus Espirit into a pay parking lot near CBGB.
She was here to see Debbie and Chris play again. They were no fools. They knew she was hiding something.
It had taken a lot of convincing, but she’d managed to talk Levi into keeping his date and meeting her later. She simply needed to feel capable of being alone for a little while. Maybe this wasn’t the best part of town to try that in?
She slid out of the pointy white car and headed toward the club. She’d opted for a punk look. Torn jeans, a ratty white tank, and a studded leather jacket. She made it about a block when three men appeared from the shadows of a nearby alley. The taller man pulled out a switchblade and demanded her purse. She pulled the lotus key out of it and tried to sneak it into her pocket.
“Whaz at?” The man questioned her.
“It’s nothing. Just a trinket. I’m going to give you all of the money.”
“Nuh-uh. You’re gonna give me those car keys and maybe a little of that rich muffin, to boot.” His gang laughed and sneered, thinking they’d be in line for some of that action as well.
The man lunged for her as she side-stepped his jab. Punk number two connected with her arm in a slash tearing through the leather and drawing blood. The third man backhanded her. As she fell to the ground, he straddled her. He took her car keys and held the knife to her throat. As he dropped the keys she saw her chance. She slipped his grip and grabbed his hand. She stabbed him in the throat three times with his own hand and knife.
His blood squirted out all over her face and around her head, leaving her outline on the ground.
The other two punks grabbed the keys and ran in the direction she’d come from. Great, they’re taking my brand new Lotus.
Debbie had seen her from the front door of the club. She and two bandmates had run the block to help her out. Debbie stopped in her tracks when she arrived. “Ashley” had removed her jacket to see her wound.
As Debbie saw “Ashley” in the street lamp’s amber glow she saw her friend’s slashed arm suddenly mend. Debbie screamed. It seemed that she knew the young man lying dead in the road.
“You... What are you? Monster! Call an ambulance! Call the police!” she shouted towards the others who were running to see what was going on.
Murder ran and never looked back. Levi hadn’t wanted to leave. He was very happy in New York. She hadn’t thought that he’d ever forgive her, but after a few weeks in France, he’d met new boys to play with, and he was mostly fine. Although he never let her go far alone again.
Penthouse 2020
“Are you going to call him… or?”
“I was remembering 1977.”
“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to dredge that up. You have a kind heart, and that horrible incident still plagues you.”
“We should never kill. We have ages, and they are but fleeting.” She cried. Levi stood and took her hand. They sat, and she cried a little more onto his shoulder.
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