SideChicks by Valorie M. Taylor

With one final regurgitation, the black of night heaved up its most agonizing dead and bowed out gracefully to the sun that peeked over gritty East Los Angeles.

That merciful hour had come when murderers, thieves and evil-doers closed their eyes and Dr. James Gable, Chief Medical Officer of Los Angeles County opened his ready for the day’s challenge. He slipped into his surgical gown and reached his nimble fingers into tight surgical gloves. With eyes that had seen mangled bodies too many times, he scanned the clipboard, sighed and shook his head over the body of the recently deceased. His gaze rested on what once was her youth and beauty now reduced to a bloodied and bruised pile of broken bones and tissue. Her expertly highlighted hair was greased with her own blood. Pressure marks on her legs and arms spoke volumes of her last moments alive.

His burley young assistant placed a drill on the tray and asked, “you ready to record, Doc?”

“Yeah, Randy.”

Randy secured the microphone to his collar and Dr. Gable spoke into it. “Female, Caucasian approximately 24 years of age and…” he checked the scale, hundred twenty three pounds. Lacerations found on the face, chest. Defensive wounds on her knuckles and forearm. Appears to have been beaten with a blunt object. Front of skull crushed, nose and jaw broken. Hand prints on front of shoulders. Was held down. Eight stab wounds to the chest.”

Randy spread the dead woman’s legs into stirrups as Dr. Gable peered at her genitals.

“Initial examination shows evidence of sexual assault. Both vaginal and anal scarring.” Randy packaged the swabs and showed them to Dr. Gable. “Uh, vaginal swab is AB-4826. Anal swab is AB-4827. Pending toxicology. Oh and, Randy, order a DNA also.”

“You got it, doc,” replied Randy logging the info on his electronic tablet.

Dr. Gable and Randy worked for the next several hours completing the woman’s medical exam. “Death is ruled as homicide. Manner of death assault of Jane Doe 458. I am Dr. James Elwin Gable, Chief Medical Officer of the East Los Angeles County Medical Examiner’s office.”

He snatched the headphone mechanism from his ears and mouth. He removed his gloves and tossed them in the trash. Then he took one last look at the woman and said, “she looks like my niece. Just graduated from UC Davis with a degree in Agriculture.”

“C’mon, Doc,” said Randy. “You been doin’ this too long to start gettin’ soft. Probably some hooker. Nothin’ like your niece.”

“You’re right.” Dr. Gable palmed Randy’s shoulder. “But this one died a horrible death. Raped, beaten and stabbed to death. Who deserves that?”

Randy took a deep breath and glanced down at the woman on the stainless steel slab whose face was frozen in agony. He remembered he was human and said, “no one, Doc. No one deserves that.”

The black of night slowly reclaimed the sky over Los Angeles. For lovers and star gazers, the diamond crusted sky offered a romantic blanket for hugs, kisses and lovemaking. For streetwalkers, it was an alarm bell that they had exactly seven hours of blackness in select alleys and doorways to perform sex for a fix or a pimp.

Lore’s black Bentley cocooned her in its plush, soft leather interior. It glided down a forgotten industrial part of Downtown Los Angeles with her chauffeur at the wheel.

“Lore,” said MacBeth making a left turn at the same intersection for the third time. “Francois said you have nine applications from Ivy League graduates on your desk right now. And the Russians want to partner with you. Why are we trolling the underbelly of the city?"

“No, no, no, MacBeth,” said Lore unable to get the sight of Liset’s bloody and bruised body out of her mind. “I don't want thoroughbreds and Russian whores. I want a champion…like Liset."

"But, Lore this is so unnecessary."

“Pull over, MacBeth!” Lore demanded as she caught sight of shapely brunette wearing gold disco shorts, a satin pink jacket, knee-high socks and high-heeled sandals. “Her right there!”

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me,” whispered MacBeth who did as she was told.

Lore rolled her window down poking her pretty brown face out the window with a smile.

"Hey Honey,” said the Brunette quickly making her way to the car. “What's your name?

"I'm Lore."

"Well, Lore, you like what you see?” She leaned forward and zipped her jacket down a bit. “I'm Farrah. You, uh, looking for a date? We could party."

Lore couldn’t stop smiling at the young solicitor whose awkward lipstick and hastily applied eye shadow and lashes screamed drugstore thief. "…You remind me of her."

"Oh, a quick slip down memory lane, huh?” Farrah asked. “I'm with that. Twenty-five dollars."

"Id like to tell you my story, Farrah," said Lore.

"A story?” Farrah could smell the liquor on her breath. “Uh, ok fifty. And another twenty if you want this guy to watch."

MacBeth rolled her eyes.

"Okay seventy-five dollars. It's yours. Come,” she patted the seat and slid over. “Sit with me."

Farrah climbed in the car. "Hey, driver,” said Farrah without putting her seatbelt on. “Two blocks up on the left, you can pull over in that alley.”

MacBeth’s eyes flickered at Lore in the review mirror who fanned her fingers signaling MacBeth to continue driving.

"Right here. Wait! I said right here! Where are you taking me?"

"Just a quiet private place," said Lore. “So you can hear my story.”

"Look, I don't want no trouble. Okay?"

"You don't want any trouble," corrected Lore.

“What the—hey, I'll do both of you for free. Just don't hurt me!"

Lore smiled.

Inside Lore’s lavish Hollywood Hills mansion, she let her sheer shawl fall from her bare shoulders revealing her graciously curved body.

Farrah followed with tiny, timid steps behind her in absolute awe of her home. "Bitch, who you gotta fuck to get this shit?"

Lore smiled and squinted at her guest. "Who did I have to--oh I get it.” Lore nodded and stepped down into her sunken living room with a view of Los Angeles at her feet. “You're from the school of thought that a woman has to sleep her way to the top, right?"

Still amazed by all the glamour that surrounded her, Farrah nodded "...right."

Lore held up a martini glass. "A drink, Farrah? Something to eat maybe? It's seems like it's been a long night."

Bentley, her Hollywood Hills mansion confused Farrah’s thoughts mysteriously.

"Please Farrah,” said Lore offering a space on her cream tufted sofa. “Sit down. Rest yourself."

Farrah stood her ground and crossed her arms. "About my money.”

"Oh, yes the business of money.” Lore motioned to the mirrored box on the coffee table. “Open that case right there. Take what’s in it."

Farrah rushed to the table and opened the mirrored box. She grabbed the bills. "This is $200."

"Is that not enough?" Asked Lore measuring premium vodka.

Farrah stuffed it into her purse. "Yes it's fine."

Lore brought the glasses to the cream couch and handed one to Farrah. "Taste it?"

"I don't drink...when I'm working."

"Drink it," insisted Lore not smiling.

Farrah sipped the concoction and smiled. "It's..."

"Lovely, huh?"

“Yes." She sipped some more.

“Slow down, Farrah. It’ll sneak up on you.”

Farrah looked at the glass of elixir. “….Lovely.”

“That's the name of it. Lovely. After you. But slow, slow," said Lore pushing the length of her afro of her shoulders and resting her back on the couch.

Farrah found her courage and ran her finger down Lore's ample cleavage. "I just might sneak up on you."

Lore giggled. "You remind me of her."

"I hope that's a good thing,” said Farrah unzipping her jacket to her belly button."Did she do this for you, huh?"

"Amazing,” laughed Lore. "I love the way you're angling me trying to match yourself to what you think I like."

"Well,” asked Farrah disguising her impatience with genuine interest, “what do you like?"

"Power."

Farrah raised her brows and then frowned. "...You mean like S&M? Sex slave? Dominatrix stuff?"

"You don't know the half," answered Lore kissing the rim of her glass.

Macbeth cleared her throat. It startled Farrah.

Lore put her drink on the table, waved MacBeth forward and applauded quietly with soft hands.

Macbeth presented a gourmet tray fit for queens.

"Ahhh, perfection, MacBeth. Perfection. "

"Thank you, Lore. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"This will do,” she said smiling like a rich child. “Thank you." She held her hand out to Farrah. "Please help yourself."

Farrah wasted no time diving into the nibbles tray.

"A nibbles tray, a Cocktail,” said Lore retrieving her drink from the table “Perfect for a story.”

With wide eyes and cheeks full of cheese, Farrah said "so we're not gonna..."

"No, Farrah. I want to tell you a story and then I want you to consider an offer."

Farrah swallowed hard. "What's the offer?"

"First things first. The story.”