Franchise Livin'

Note: Last year for National Novel Writing Month, I wrote a novel about Bunny Day, a stripper with a Cassandra complex, and her junkie cop boyfriend, trying to catch a particularly gruesome serial killer. Tonight I reread it and didn't hate it nearly as much as I thought I would. In fact, it charmed me quite a bit for something so large written in under 30 days. Charmed me enough to continue the franchise. So today's snippet is an excerpt from a new Bunny/Harlan story. Prepare your bladder for imminent release, and cheesy noir goodness.

Monique's sitting in her high-backed office chair, head tilted at a precarious angle to secure the phone between her chin and shoulder. She's got a startled expression on her face as she makes reassuring "mm-hmms" and "i sees" at the mouthpiece, scribbling notes furiously on a yellow legal pad with her right hand. Bunny leans over to make sure she's got Mo's attention and makes a questioning face at Monique like "what's this all about"? Monique stares back at Bunny, eyes wide, stops scribbling for a moment, and makes a corkscrew gesture at her temple. Clearly, the caller on the other end is completely loco.

Bunny paces across the tiles, her platform sandals clunking with every step. Harlan keeps telling her that she'd be better off with sensible shoes, but over her years at the Arrow, she'd grown used to wearing the heels and she feels short, stubby and insecure without them. They're the one remnant of her stripper lifestyle she can't seem to shake. She pours herself another cup of coffee and waits for inspiration to strike. When she'd agreed to take this job helping Harlan, she hadn't thought that most of her days would be spent poring over the details (both mundane and sordid) of cases involving estranged wives, cuckolded husbands, missing jewlery and insurance fraud. She's expecting something more like the case of the Angel Killer, but so far the work has been garden-variety private investigations--interesting and challenging, but nothing to write home about.

Bunny flips through some surveillance photographs on her desk, looking for some evidence she might have missed on the first go round, and catches herself rubbing her temples a little. Yeah, there's a headache there. A little one building--probably nothing she can't handle, but ever since the events surrounding the Angel Killer and her aneurysm, she gets a little nervous when she feels one coming on. So far, nothing's struck her so violently and nothing strange has happened, but she knows it's only a matter of time.

Bunny's cell phone rings, cutely belting out "Stormy Weather", and she answers it before it can get to the chorus.

"Bunnylove Detective Agency. Bunny speaking. How can I he--"

"Hey, it's me," Harlan's voice comes through as if he were in the next room.

"Hey, lover. What's the news?"

"Just calling to see if you'd like to join me for dinner at Chez Panisse. Say around...8ish?"

"Ooh, fancy. What's the occasion, sugarbutt?"

"It's just been a while since we had a romantic evening alone, and I thought we could use one. You gonna argue with that?"

"Nope. This is me, shutting up. How'd you manage to get reservations?"

"I pulled some strings. You with me or not?"

"With, definitely. I'll just take a cab over when Mo and I are done he--"

"Bunny?" Monique's voice comes rocketing through Bunny's reverie like a shot.

"I'll meet you there, Harlan. Sounds like something strange is afoot. Love you."

"Love you back, baby. See you at 8."

Bunny hangs up the phone and dashes back into the lobby where Monique sits at her desk, all the color drained from her face, slackjawed and nearly drooling with terror.

"What's up, Mo?" Bunny asks, but she thinks she already knows.

Monique doesn't answer, just presses play on the recorder attached to the main office phone. A low, threatening voice begins speaking, filtered by tape hiss and telephone distortion.

"It's started again," the voice says. "Eugene was weak. His flesh was not pure enough to hold the beauty within the beast. The time has come to bathe in the blood of the lamb. And you aren't ready, Bunny Day."

Suddenly, her headache can't come fast enough.

Posted by lux at September 15, 2003 11:45 PM