Jim sat on his tail gate with a lit cigarette. He hated that women didn’t give him the time of day. Just now a cute, slim, red-headed woman was coming out of the diner and making her way past him. She didn’t even glance over at him and that annoyed him.
“Hey baby, why don’t you come over here?” He caught himself saying. He just wanted her to look at him, acknowledge his existence.
She didn’t, instead she kept walking like she hadn’t heard him.
***** you, ********
Still, nothing. He watched the way her hips swayed lightly with each step. It was like she was purposely taunting him. I’ll make you ***** as hell and keep walking away.
An angry man with dark hair and a shirt so tight Jim could see chest hair poking through walked swiftly towards the red head.
******** ****, give me my money.” Jim overheard the man say. He almost felt pleased at the words. The ***** deserved to be knocked around simply for ignoring him earlier.
“Dean, I’m keeping the money. It’s mine. We had a deal.”
Dean’s arm snaked out and grabbed the redhead as she continued sashaying away.
“Give me the money Lucy.”
“Ow, you’re hurting me.”
At this point, Jim almost felt like getting up and saying something, but the fact that she ignored him earlier kept him silent. She had been rude and perhaps she deserved whatever Dean was going to do next.
The crack of Dean’s fist against her head was unsettling. He watched as Lucy seemed to melt through Dean’s hands and hit the pavement. Jim quickly ducked out of view, hoping now that his apparent invisibility worked on angry, potentially murderous men as well. He didn’t think he’d caught Dean’s eye, and now he was praying that was actually true. Jim held his breath and listened to Dean going through Lucy’s purse. He didn’t seem to think anyone was watching so Jim silently let out his breath. Dean’s heavy footsteps sounded his retreat and after everything was silent, Jim peered up over his truck bed.
Lucy’s body lay on the pavement; he could see her lifeless eyes looking over at him. They were still open, staring at him. He felt chills run down his back as her eyelids closed and he heard her sigh.
********** he muttered. She was alive and he probably should do something for her. Even if she had been rude earlier, she hadn’t deserved to die. Probably for less than a hundred bucks too.
He reached her still form and gently turned her. She didn’t move of her own accord; her eyes were closed aside from a tiny slit of white.
*****, ****, ****.” He had thought maybe she was still alive, but he could now see she wasn’t breathing. Blood trickled down her forehead where Dean’s fist had hit. Jim surmised he must have been wearing a ring, because a distinct impression had been left near her temple.
He knew from movies that you could feel a pulse at the neck if the person was still alive, and he roughly turned her head so he could see just what he was doing. He ran his fingers down the side of her neck until they reached the area he thought he’d seen people feel for a pulse. He stopped breathing, attempting to silence everything in the hopes of feeling something. There was no pulse beneath her pale flesh. Jim whimpered. He’d never seen anyone die, let alone touched someone’s dead body. The flesh felt cold, but he figured that wasn’t unusual. It was a cool night. He wondered if he should call the police, but he didn’t want to be considered guilty. He’d already had a few run ins with the law.
Slowly backing up from her body he was unaware of the woman behind him. She’d come running after Lucy after closing, with the assumption she’d find her sitting in her car with a bad attitude.
Her scream shocked Jim and he turned, nearly jumping out of his skin to a middle aged woman. She was now screaming louder, screaming for help. He shoved her and winced as he heard her slam into the concrete.