Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Characters within are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Brittle wind slashed through a long, dark trench coat that Guy Pearce had long outgrown. Hell of a night to be out. Why Benny had chosen a bus stop, at three am, to meet was beyond him. The streetlight above his head flickered in time with each chilly gust.
Guy pulled a pack of smokes from his front pocket. Fumbled with stiff fingers to light one. He turned his back to the wind, hunched over closer to the line of shrubs behind the icy concrete bench. Saw a pair of red high heeled feet poking out beneath the foliage. Lit his smoke and straightened.
He ran a hand through his greasy, thinning black hair, a nervous habit that he’d never rid himself of. Jesus Christ. Of all nights for someone to dump a body at this bus stop, it had to be tonight. If that no good bookie hadn’t taken off with his gun, Guy wouldn’t have been here in the first place. God help him if anyone happened by. Him standing two feet away from a corpse. Jesus Christ.
He had to wait for Benny. Who knows what that little creep was up to? Probably holding up some liquor store. And with his gun! Bastard better get here soon. People showing up at this time of night wasn’t likely, but the body gave him the heebees. Where in the Holy Hell was Benny?
Guy walked a few paces away from the bench, to the end of the hedgerow. Curiosity got the better of him. She could have been sleeping, if it weren’t for the crusty, red hole in her forehead. She was gorgeous, or had been. Blonde hair, long legs, nice rack. Her red lipstick matched her dress and shoes. Probably had blue eyes, too, but whoever had put her down had closed them. He turned to walk back to the bench, but a metal piece near her hand glinted under the harsh streetlight.
Stepping closer, Guy’s heart leapt in his chest when he saw a gun. His gun. The same one Benny had “borrowed”. He grabbed the gun, his eyes frantically searching the darkness beyond the streetlamp, and turned to run.
A loud click sounded from across the street, a spotlight lit up the night, casting his shadow on the body behind him. His knees locked, heart missed a beat, then sped on.
Benny had insisted they meet here, at this bus stop, and it had to be tonight. Said if Guy wanted his gun back, he’d better be here. Fuckin’ Benny.