Saturday, December 17, 2011

The Detectives Bull and Tommy work on a Sunday

Sample Sunday from Seeking Angel by A J Burton - Chapter 3.
Detective Angelo Protettore known to all his colleagues as Bull, sipped his coffee from a paper cup. He was careful not to crush it while his partner of a few weeks, Detective Thomas Delaney, careened around the precinct in their squad car.
Bull’s partner sat bolt upright in the driver’s seat, his large hands gripping the wheel like he wanted to strangle it. Tommy was having his usual daily dose of road rage. It was almost comical to watch.
Tommy hit the horn, venting his spleen at no one in particular. “Jeez! Who said New York taxi drivers are the worst in world? It’s the rest of the road-hogging morons that get my goat!” said Tommy. “You got that coffee under control, Bull? That little cup looks pretty fragile in your big mitts.”
“Well, it might help if you relaxed a little bit, you dumb Irish prick.”
“I can’t. Why are we still doing this shit?”
Bull squeezed his cup as they tail-spun round a corner. “Because this is New York, buddy. It’s broke, just like you and me. We are on missing persons detail because we are the unclean and unwanted from the precinct. But at least we’re employed.”
“Ok, I get the hint.” Tommy relaxed his death grip on the steering wheel. “Don’t go thinking I am going soft but when you’re right, you’re right. You know the Captain wants us to fail. I know I am an embarrassment to the department.” He broke into a fair imitation of the precinct head. “You’re a cynical, violent, foul-mouthed man with an attitude problem whereas your new partner is just plain violent. It’s only a matter of time before either one or both of you screw ups gets himself so deep in the shit even the blessed saint of assholes won’t be able to help.” said Tommy.
“Yeah, the Captain’s a peach, isn’t he? Still, he’s got a point; we just gotta stick together and back each other up. I - Look out!” shouted Bull.
“Son of a bitch!” yelled Tommy.
Rubber squealed and smoked as the heavy squad car pulled to a shuddering stop, slamming both men into their seatbelts and sluicing Bull’s coffee onto his crotch.
“Jeez, Tommy!” Bull found himself talking to thin air. His partner had already leapt from the vehicle. Tommy yanked open the driver’s door of a stationary Volvo in front of them. What followed was a tirade of some of the worst language Bull had ever heard. Tommy, in the process of checking the man’s driver’s license, managed to insult his heritage, ancestry, driving skills and his chances of surviving the week. Then as quickly as his temper flared, Tommy seemed to lose interest, as all the driver’s documents seemed to be in order.
“Okay, have a nice day, you moron.” Tommy strode back to the vehicle before mashing himself into the driver’s seat slamming the door so hard the whole car shuddered.
“You feel better now?” Bull said. “You owe me another coffee. Plus, we gotta go back to my place. I need to change my pants and check for third degree burns on me balls.”
Tommy sighed. “Sorry. Okay, we’ll get some clean threads for you, and then I’ll spot us a meal. Screw what’s her name; she’s only been missing a couple of weeks. And she’s probably shacked up with some dope smoking prick anyway.” said Tommy, putting the car into drive.
“Right, only I don’t think the Captain would be particularly pleased with that attitude. Shit, forget my pants they’ll dry on the way over. Turn the heater on.” said Bull.
Tommy did an illegal U-turn and sped away. “I hate it when you’re right, I wasn’t hungry anyway. Still, two detectives with our experience doing this crap is just an insult. Bad enough we are working on a fucking Sunday.” said Tommy.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Joey Fish is furious... #SampleSunday from Seeking Angel

Chapter Twenty Eight
Joey Fish strode to the men’s rest room. He was furious; who the fuck did this broad think she was? Joey felt humiliated. The woman had spurned his advances. To cap it off the bitch had a dinner date with some young punk fresh out of college. Slamming the rest room door open with the palm of his hand he went over to the urinal and relieved himself. Cursing under his breath and working himself up into a violent rage, Joey looked at himself in the mirror. Fucking bitch! Thinks she is too good for Joey Fish! He thought, straightening his tie. Well it was her bad luck. Screw her! He could have a thousand cheap broads like her. Washing his hands, he suddenly slammed his fist into the towel dispenser. No fucking way was he going to be insulted by some cheap bitch. Spinning around he headed out of the rest room in an angry vicious mood.
Sam beckoned the waiter and ordered for both of them. She laughed to herself as Willy accepted his new status, with the merest hint of a forced smile and reddening of cheeks.
“Hey, who do you think you are, brushing me off like that?” demanded a loud angry voice.
Sam looked up, surprised to see the man who had sent over the bottle of wine. “I beg your pardon; I thought you had left the restaurant. When I looked up to thank you, you had gone.”
Joey Fish was too angry and too dumb to accept Sam’s apology.
“Well lady, you just passed up a chance for a date with a real man not this little pussy faced college boy.”
Willy stood up. “Shut your mouth you prick. Can’t you find-”
Willy was the spark that ignited Joey’s explosive temper. Joey lashed out with a brutal backhand that struck Willy across the bridge of his nose sending him reeling backwards over his chair.
Standing up Sam closed her right hand firmly. She took a deep breath and punched hard, her fist hitting Joey square in the mouth, her heavy ring splitting his lip and sending him stumbling backwards onto a table. It collapsed loudly, depositing Joey onto the floor. Stunned for an instant by the realization that a woman had knocked him over with a single punch, Joey leapt back to his feet. Sam braced herself for his next insane onslaught, relaxed and ready. Willy was sitting on the floor holding his face. She knew instinctively he wasn’t going to be any use.
A vice-like grip grabbed Joey’s shoulder; spinning him around.
“Remember me Joey?” said a solidly built man who then hit Joey with a vicious blow to the stomach. All the air went out of Joey’s lungs as he doubled up. A fist that seemed to be made of brick hit him in the nose, breaking it and spraying blood over both combatants. Joey again went down falling on his back; his broken nose only added to his anger.
He got to his feet. A switchblade appeared in his right hand. Joey intended to use it with deadly purpose.
The knife swept past the big man in an arc which would have opened his face had it made contact. Now the big man exploded into action. His right hand seized a restaurant chair; he swung it as Joey came in for another thrust. He took the impact of the heavy chair on his left shoulder. The chair broke, leaving his attacker holding a piece of shattered chair.
Joey, propelled violently sideways, took out another table. Women screamed. In the restaurant guests began to hurry out of the way. As he tried to stand, Joey took a kick to the side of the head, which stunned him for a second. His knife hand was bent backwards. He screamed as the bones in his fingers made a cracking sound and he dropped the knife. Two huge fists grabbed hold of his shirt and he found himself lifted up to face his enraged opponent. Now Joey remembered who this man was. This was his last conscious thought. A right hook with venom behind it hit him flush on the jaw and the force of the punch knocked Joey out for the count. Flying backwards, he struck a large glass aquarium, which shattered, pouring wicked sharp shards of glass, warm water and goldfish all over the floor. Joey lay wet and unconscious, a large goldfish flapping helplessly on his shirtfront amidst the carnage.