Hard Luck Penny

Flash Fiction by Scott McKinnon

Penny sits on a warehouse floor, handcuffed to a pallet stacked five feet high with cheap towels emblazoned with the words: I stole this from Alcatraz. The fluorescents above cast a flat light over mountains of tacky novelty items and three humorless thugs standing over her.

The leader has a narrow, rodent-like face and waves his pistol around like he’s a Sergeant Major leading a parade. His partner, built like a fridge, idly flips a butterfly knife open and shut. The third guy is her age, maybe twenty, and shifts nervously from foot to foot. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“So,” Penny says, “do you guys get a commission every time you flash a weapon, or is it a contractual obligation?”

Fridge and Shifty laugh, but Rat-face isn’t amused and points menacingly at Penny. “Little Moe is not happy with your cousin.”

Penny stares up at him. “Let me guess, bad Yelp review?”

Fridge snorts while Shifty hides a grin in his collar. Rat-face growls, “Where is he going to be tonight?”

Penny shrugs. “How should I know? I’m just his bartender.

“Disappointing,” says Rat-face as he smacks her hard across the face with the back of his hand.

“Nothing personal,” says Fridge.

“I know,” she mutters, “just showing me you’re serious.”

Fridge leans down until his face is inches from hers. “Crime is a results-based business.” He drives his fist into her gut. She doubles over, gasping for breath.

“Where’s Tony going to be tonight?” asks Rat-face again.

She hesitates, until Fridge leans towards her again. “Alright, alright. Give me a second to think… Okay, he told me after he closes the restaurant tonight, he’s going to his girlfriend’s place. 2335 Maple Street.”

Fridge pats her on the shoulder, almost fondly, and exchanges a satisfied look with his partner. As they walk out, Rat-face hands Shifty his gun and says, “Watch her until we get back.”

Shifty grips the pistol like it might bite him. After the warehouse door slams shut, he sinks to the floor, turning the gun over and over in his hands. Without looking up, he asks, “Didn’t we go to high school together?”

Penny checks her lip for blood. “I don’t know. Did we?”

“We had Math together in grade twelve. You skipped class a lot.”

“That sounds like me.”

They sit quietly for a few more minutes until the silence is broken by the soft purring of a scrawny, one-eyed tabby. It rubs itself up against Shifty’s leg. Penny reaches out and scratches the cat behind the ear.

Shifty sets down the pistol on the ground and scoops up the cat. “I love animals,” he says, and then adds, “You lied to them, didn’t you?”

Penny averts her eyes. “Nope.”

The cat stretches, kneading its claws into Shifty’s sleeve. Cat and captor stare at Penny expectantly.

“Fine. Maybe I did.”

Shifty nods, rubbing the cat’s neck. “That was a bad idea. Those two, they are seriously bad ass.”

“I know,” Penny says, “but if didn’t, it would have been as if I shot Tony myself.”

“You two are tight?”

“No, not really, but we’re family.”

“So he would have lied for you?”

“Probably not.”

“Do you want me to call them? Tell them you re-remembered where he’s really going to be tonight?”

“It’s too late for that.”

He nodded, “Ya, I suppose you’re right.”

Time drags on. Shifty continues to pet the cat while Penny counts the ceiling tiles. Then Shifty’s phone rings. He swallows hard when he answers it. After a short exchange, he hangs up.

The cat comes over to Penny and leans into her as she runs her hand along its spine. “This is when you say, ‘nothing personal,’ but…”

Shifty stares at her for a moment before pulling out a key and unlocking her cuffs. “They told me to let you go.”

Penny is on her feet in an instant and makes for the exit. She’s not interested in asking any questions, but then finds herself pausing at the door. Something isn’t right. She turns back despite her better judgement. “Why did they let me go?”

Shifty doesn’t answer right away. He rubs the cat’s head, avoiding her gaze. “Guess they figured you weren’t worth the trouble.”

Penny sighs. “They told you to kill me, didn’t they?”

He finally meets her eye. “No, they want that pleasure themselves.”

“I can’t believe I’m asking, but why are you doing this?”

“Have to. If I don’t it would be like pulling the trigger myself.”

Penny exhales sharply. “Ok, come with me.”

“Don’t worry,” said Shifty. “I’ve got it all worked out. They don’t think much of me, so I’ll just say you got away while my back was turned. Trust me, they’ll totally buy that.”

Penny glares at him, her voice sharp. “I don’t owe you anything. But I’m not leaving you here to get shot.”

“Ok, ok,” he says, handing Penny the cat. “I need to grab something,” and disappears into an office at the front of the warehouse.

Clutching the cat tight against her chest, Penny crouches and snatches up the pistol. After a quick examination, she puts it into her pocket. Then changes her mind and buries it deep into the pallet of towels, making sure no one will be able to find it. Satisfied, she grabs one of the Alcatraz towels off the top, then hesitates and yanks two more free. “Hurry the f___ up!” she shouts.

Shifty comes out wearing a worn leather jacket with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. In his hand, he’s holding a can of tuna. “For the cat,” he said.

As they reach Penny’s rusted car parked out back, she asks, “You’re ok with starting over?”

“I was never good at this life anyway.”

“Ya, me neither.”

“You know they’re going to come after us, right?” says Shifty.

Penny doesn’t answer. She slides behind the wheel while Shifty climbs into the passenger seat. The cat settles between them as the engine rumbles to life. A headlight rakes across their path but vanishes as they pull away.

“Don’t look back,” says Penny, gunning the engine. “If you’re coming with me, we never look back.”

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Bio: Scott McKinnon is a Canadian-based mystery and crime writer who explores themes of identity and belonging through wry humor, unconventional narratives, and compelling characters. You can find him at his website HERE

Cover photo by the Author

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