Thursday

O'Hannigan (496 words)


So I'm sat in my office, trying to shake off the mother of all hangovers when the phone starts ringing. The way I'm feeling I don't want to pick it up but I need the work and the noise is like a drill to my skull. So I pick it up and say "O'Hannigan" because that's my name. 

Some broad is on the other end blabbering away about how she is being blackmailed over some skinflick she is in. This pricks my interest straight away and not because I'm a purveyor of the fine arts, if you know what I mean.

We agree to meet at Kats, I need coffee like a drowning man needs a lifejacket and they do great eggs. She is there before me but I'm twenty minutes late so it's no surprise. She is sat in a booth at the back with sunglasses on trying to look inconspicuous, I spot her straight away. She's a good looking broad; the type that needs looking after by a good man but always ends up with some schmuck who doesn't treat her right. This suits me down to the ground; I lost my halo a long time ago.

I slump down opposite her and start mainlining coffee, the waitress brings me my eggs, I've been coming here for years and they know what I like and I like eggs. The look of disgust the broad is giving me says she has never seen a man with a broken nose try and eat and breathe at the same time. She tells me I look like crap and she isn't wrong. I tell her she should see the other guy, he's down in the morgue with a hole in his head and I'm not lying.

I finish my eggs, wipe the yolk off my face and tell her to spill, she says she doesn't want to talk about it so I get up to leave. This works like it always does and she starts blabbering on about how it was just a party up in the hills that got out of hand, she didn't even know someone had a camera and that big Louie Marconi is saying that for the right price her hoo-ha won't be on the front pages.

I tell her they don't tend to put peoples hoo-ha's  on the front page, that is normally on page fifteen and ask her what price big Louie is asking for. She starts to cry and in between sobs manages to say twenty five big ones. I tell her not to worry about and that for just five of those big ones I can guarantee Marconi won't be bothering her again. She asks me how I can be so sure and I tell her I'm just that good, I don't mention that he is already in the morgue with a hole in his head, that's on a need to know basis and I know I need the money.

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