Pale Carnations -ch. 4 Update 4- -mutt Jeff- ... -

I didn’t take the bait. I pulled the folded photograph from my inside pocket and laid it face-up on the table between us. A girl. Pale hair, dark roots showing. A gaze that wasn’t pleading, but calculating. She’d been a runner, once. Before Jeff got his hooks in.

“Club wants a lot of things.” Jeff stood, slow, his joints popping like distant gunfire. He loomed, not tall, but wide—a bulldog in a stained vest. “But you tell them this: Mutt Jeff delivers what he’s paid for. And what he ain’t paid for stays in the back room. Under the floorboards.” Pale Carnations -Ch. 4 Update 4- -Mutt Jeff- ...

“That’s Mister Jeff to you, boy,” he growled, not looking up. He was shuffling a deck of cards with hands that were all knuckle and gristle—the hands of a man who’d broken bones for sport and then nursed the same bones back wrong. “Or ‘Sir.’ Your old man always remembered ‘Sir.’” I didn’t take the bait

Jeff nodded, satisfied. “There it is. She’ll break again. They always do. The only question is whether she breaks for the crowd… or against it.” Pale hair, dark roots showing