She recognized him while he passed her on the mean streets of her beat, apparently holding an invisible phone. “Hey, you’re Frank’s friend,” she said to him, making him stop in his tracks. “The, what was it. Bank robber.”
He spun ’round, approached her aggressively. “How the hell do you know– about *that*” He was upon her, poked a finger into her exposed cleavage with the emphasized word.
“Relax, baby doll,” she said, playfully swatting the appendage away. “Soon the world will know. He’s writing a book about it. *Mikie*.”
No one had called him that since he was a kid. And lived. He instinctively pulled out a gun, trained it on her head. “Listen lady of the night, whoever you are–”
“I already told you,” she cooed. “I’m Frank’s friend.”
“*No*. You said *I* was Frank’s friend. And that you recognized me. And that I robbed banks for a living.”
“Simmer down simmer down.” She approached him this time, grasped the gun, gently lowered it to his midsection and slowly let go. “Men always acting through their penises mm mm mm.” Her head came close to his; she licked her lips a bit. “I didn’t say *banks*. I said bank. As in North Yankton. Or as Frank decided to call it in his infinite wisdom, Yankton. Just Yankton. No North.” Her mouth was about 3 inches from his, ruby red like her hair, her dress. “But it’s easy enough to translate. And then look up.”
Mikie backed away, shook his head, got animated with his hands, one of which still held that pistol but perhaps also invisible by this point. “You — don’t know what you’re talking about, lady–”
“Redd,” she inserted.
“W-what?”
“My name is Redd.”
He looked her over again, noted all the red. “Okay whatever. But you’re talking crazy lady. Frank doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And, you say, he’s putting this in a *book*?”
“Yeah. Chapter One. How my best friend and mentor Mikie Wikie robbed a bank in Yankton and then died but came back to life. Like Jesus. Are you… Jesus?” She cocked her head knowingly. “You still gonna shoot me… Jesus?” She took out a cigarette from her purse, lit it up, puffed. “Last cigarette, then.” She let out smoke. “Give me some time — Virginia Slim, you see,” she said about the brand, known for its longness as well as flavor and lasting power. She puffed and puffed while he just gawked; finally put away the pistol back in his pocket.
He woke up.
—–
He called his new-ish friend and protege after he got good and awake. “Hey. Listen, er, Frank. You’re not writing some kind of book or something by chance, are you?”
Sunklands 