Noir fiction #5

I came to in a garbage dumpster, feeling like a gorilla's accordian. Unfortunately, what I came to was the conclusion that I was getting nowhere. If I wanted that to change, I had to convince people to stop trying to kick me, and I had to do that by kicking first, and faster.
I straighted my tie as I lit up a smoke. It made my lip sting a little, but I liked the way the smoke made my jacket look. I turned up it's collar. Time to get serious. Like my grandpa always said, "No sense in smelling the cold shit." I couldn't understand smelling shit at all, but my grandpa was one of the best in his time, and who am I to argue?

The hot-shit dame had been hired on by the Pink Peri a few nights ago for her blockbuster show. I'm sure my piano man was thrilled, but I wasn't laughing. Neither was she when I kicked in her door.
"Heya Toots. You miss me?"
She tucked away the Magnum lipstick she'd been packin' and regarded me cooly,
"What the hell do you want? I gotta show." Time to turn on the charm.
"Well, darlin'. I want you to sing for me."
She huffed and began plucking her eyebrows,
"You're an idiot. Come to my show like a normal man. You ruined my door."
"I gotta special song in mind, sweetheart. About parrots and how my little starry-eyed friend is mixed up with dames that sic ugly men on me." I grabbed her arms and she leaned back on her cushion. I could smell her perfume.
"And I don't wanna do anything,"
I let my eyes drag over her dressing-gowned figure,
"Un-gentlemanly to hear it."
Her black eyes narrowed and her body, down to her teal feather, shook with outrage.
"You wouldn't dare."
"You use it. Why can't I?"
She hissed, and I wondered if she's knife me in the kidneys with her heels. I've leapt from a speeding car onto a bridge railing, watching the car plunge headlight first into a black river a hundred feet below, but this dizzy broad scared me.
The things I do for piano with my scotch. Her mouth turned into a languid smile.
"You wanna play with the big kids? Fine."
She purred with the same tone my Dinah used right before she clawed some poor Tomcat's nuts off.

He owes me some ragtime for this.

I stayed out of sight for their show, nursing a double. I couldn't face him knowing I was gonna throw his doll to the sharks. I watched them, though; her, leaning forward on the piano to kiss his forehead as he gazed at her, hands flying. He was in love, I could tell, but her? She caught me staring and pulled away sharply, her voice cracking, but her panic didn't make any sense unless...Aw shit.

I ain't a romantic. Graveyard's are full of folks who died for love, but I suspect that whoever was behind this had a bigger wrench in their plans then they knew what to do with...
This city is full of people; Old money, new money, no money; all trying to work it out together. But here I was, caught like a lynch pin between two cogs trying to press together to what might be their mutual destruction. Maybe I should just let go? I was tired. My old wounds were acting up, and all they got me was an empty apartment. Maybe I was in the wrong plot, reading the wrong script. Their love story wiping out my tragedy. Love conquers all, but where's that leave me?