Every now and then I start a novel but I decide to go in another direction. Still, the first chapter I was writing makes for a nice little short flash fiction tale that shows how tough our man Noah Milano is... So here it is...
Business
was exceptionally slow. You’d
think the crisis would make more people go out and steal or kidnap folks,
resulting in a higher demand for a security specialist like myself. I had been
forced to dabble in private investigations as a result before, but even that
wasn’t really paying the bills these days. I guess that kind of work went to investigators
with nicer offices or that didn’t have the reputation of being the son of a
mobster following them around. Anyway, that’s why I was forced to add process
serving to my services. Noah Milano,
Security, Investigations and Process Serving. Soon I’d have to add
housekeeping and gardening to the list.
I’d been sitting in my
Dodge Charger for hours now, listening to the new Drowning Pool record and an
audiobook by Michael Connelly. I’d eaten three donuts and downed three coffees.
I hated peeing in empty bottles but also had a hard time staying awake without
caffeine. I was just hoping my target would show up soon.
My target’s name was
Julian Brooks, who makes his living as MMA fighter. That’s why it was hard for
his agent to find someone willing to serve him. Personally, I’m not as
intimidated by guys who break people’s bones in the ring. I’ve been honing my
skills on the streets, where stuff gets a lot rougher than in the ring. My
dad’s hitman / bodyguard Kane taught me to fight and I have been forced to keep
up with my fighting skills ever since, either because of guys coming after me
because of my father or during my work as a security specialist. You come after
me with a gun, I get worried. You try to take me on with just your fists, I’m
pretty sure I can get things under control. Of course, I was still hoping I
would be able to serve Brooks without any fisticuffs.
I found out where
Brooks’ girlfriend lives and I’d been parked across from her apartment waiting
for Brooks to exit. I figured there wasn’t a better time to catch him unaware
than in post-coital bliss.
And there he was. Big,
muscular guy, shaved head, goatee, black leather jacket costing more than my
entire wardrobe and lots of gold around his neck and fingers. Some of that gold
came from deals he made with other agents, breaking his contract with the guy
who hired me. That’s why he was being asked to appear in court. He walked out
the door of his girl’s apartment and headed over to his Cadillac.
I got out of my car
and walked over to him. “Julian Brooks?”
“I ain’t in the mood
for no autographs, man,” he told me.
“That’s not what I’m
here for,” I said and shoved the serving papers into his jacket pocket. “You’ve
been served.”
“What? Asshole!”
Brooks said and pushed me in the chest. I managed to stay on my feet, but it
was one hell of a push.
“Sorry, man. Just
doing my job,” I said.
“Yeah? I’m gonna take
you apart for that, motherfucker!” Brooks yelled and his fist travelled to my
face. Those rings on it were going to hurt if they hit me.
I blocked his fist
with my left arm, kicking his knee as a follow-up. He was pretty quick though
and twisted his knee enough for me to barely graze it.
His elbow hit me in
the chest with dazzling speed. It was like getting hit by a truck. Then there
was a foot against my chin before I could think of a counter. I had to admit,
this guy was fast and sure as hell could fight.
I was beginning to
think I shouldn’t have left my Glock in the car. That thought was confirmed
with a fist to my breadbasket. I wheezed. I was starting to understand why this
guy was such a successful MMA fighter. Still, if he was going to kick my ass to
the hospital my mentor Kane was going to visit me and kick my ass again, angry
because he taught me better than getting beat up by someone who fought as a
sport.
“Fuck this!” was my battle
cry as I spin-kicked him in the face. That got him woozy enough for me to grab
his jacket and smash him into his Cadillac. He hit the closed door with his
face and sank down on the concrete. He tried to get up but I opened the car
door right in his face two times. Blood ran down the door. Brooks sat against
the car with his eyes closed and his lights out.
That all got a hell of
a lot uglier than I’d planned. And to think I had another document to serve.
Luckily that sounded like an easier job.
I walked to my car,
ignoring the people coming out of their homes or cars, daring to take a closer
look now the fight was finished. I had to get out of there before someone
called the cops. I’m not exactly the best of friends with LA’s finest.
Something to do with them not liking the son of known mobster.
I wasn’t happy with
what I saw in my rearview mirror. My chin was looking pretty bruised. Good
thing Brooks’ other hits were in the gut and chest of course, if they had landed
in my face it would have been even worse. I wouldn’t want to turn off the
ladies. Well, I sure as hell got even with him.
I started the Dodge and drove off, making my way
over to the next address on my list...THE END
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