Quick Tales

In the grimy underbelly of New Orleans, where the air was thick with humidity and the scent of bourbon, Thomas "Tommy" Malone eked out a living as a small-time bookie. He wasn't much to look at—a wiry man in his late forties with a receding hairline and eyes that held more regret than ambition. His life was simple: he took bets, paid winners, and tried not to draw too much attention from the local cops or the even more dangerous criminal elements lurking in the shadows of the French Quarter.

One evening, as Tommy closed up shop at his dingy office above a rundown bar, a man he'd never seen before stepped out of the darkness. The stranger was tall and imposing, dressed in an expensive suit that seemed out of place among the peeling paint and faded posters. He had cold eyes that seemed to bore right through Tommy, and a smile that didn't quite reach them.

"Tommy Malone," he said, his voice smooth as whiskey. "I have something I need you to do."

Tommy hesitated, his hand hovering over the lock on his office door. "I don't know who you are, but I'm not interested in whatever you're selling."

The man chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down Tommy's spine. "Oh, I'm not selling anything, Tommy. I'm telling you what you're going to do." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn photograph. It was a picture of Tommy's daughter, Lily, taken just last week at her high school graduation. She was smiling, her eyes bright with promise.

Tommy felt a chill run through him. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The man handed him the photograph. "I want you to kill Senator Charles Hargrove."

Tommy stared at the picture, his heart pounding in his chest. Lily was his whole world—his pride and joy. He'd raised her alone after her mother had left them when she was just a baby. The thought of anything happening to her made him sick with fear.

"Why?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "What does Hargrove have to do with my daughter?"

The man leaned in close, his breath hot on Tommy's ear. "Let's just say that the senator has some... unsavory habits. Habits that could ruin his political career if they were made public." He paused, letting the implication hang heavy in the air. "But that won't happen, will it, Tommy? Not as long as you do what I ask."

Tommy felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He knew he should refuse, should tell this man to go straight to hell. But the thought of Lily—of her bright future being snuffed out like a candle flame—was too much to bear.

"When?" he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.

The man smiled again, that same cold smile that sent shivers down Tommy's spine. "Friday night. At the charity gala downtown." He handed Tommy a small envelope. "Here are the details. Don't be late."

As the man melted back into the shadows, Tommy stood rooted to the spot, the envelope clutched tightly in his hand. He knew he should tear it open, read whatever was inside, and then burn it all—the photograph, the envelope, everything. But instead, he slipped them both into his pocket and walked home in a daze.

The days leading up to Friday night were a blur for Tommy. He went through the motions of his daily routine—taking bets, paying winners—but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't stop thinking about Lily, about the life he wanted for her. A life that would be ruined if he didn't do what this man asked.

On Friday evening, as Tommy stood in the grand ballroom of the St. Louis Hotel, he felt a sense of surreal detachment wash over him. The room was filled with the city's elite—politicians, businessmen, and socialites all mingling and laughing as if they didn't have a care in the world. And among them, Senator Charles Hargrove held court like a king, his booming laughter echoing through the crowded space.

Tommy had done his research on Hargrove. He knew about the senator's shady dealings, his connections to organized crime, and the rumors of his involvement in a string of unsolved murders. But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was Lily—and keeping her safe.

As Tommy wove through the crowd, he felt a growing sense of unease. He wasn't a killer—he'd never even held a gun before. How could he possibly pull this off? And what would happen to him afterward? Would they let him walk away, or would they come after him too?

He tried to push the thoughts aside as he made his way closer to Hargrove. The senator was standing by the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand, engaged in animated conversation with a group of admirers. Tommy hung back, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the far end of the room. A man had collapsed, his face contorted in pain as he clutched at his chest. Panic spread through the crowd like wildfire as people scrambled to help him. In the chaos, Tommy saw his chance.

He slipped away from the bar and made his way toward Hargrove, who was now standing alone, his attention focused on the commotion across the room. Tommy's heart pounded in his ears as he approached the senator, his hand trembling as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the gun.

It was a small, compact weapon—easy to conceal, but deadly nonetheless. Tommy had never fired a gun before, but he knew enough to point and shoot. He raised the weapon, his finger tightening on the trigger as he took aim at Hargrove's back.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a hand clamped down on his wrist with bruising force. Tommy gasped in pain as he turned to see who had stopped him. Standing behind him was a woman—tall and elegant, with fiery red hair and eyes that burned like embers. She wore an expression of sheer fury as she glared at him, her grip on his wrist unyielding.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

Tommy stared at her in shock, unable to speak or move. He could feel the weight of the gun in his hand, the cold metal pressing against his palm as he struggled to comprehend what was happening.

The woman's gaze flicked from Tommy to Hargrove and back again, her expression darkening with each passing moment. "You're not going to do it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you understand me? You're not going to kill him."

Tommy swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to find the words to explain himself. But before he could say anything, the woman's eyes widened in shock, and she let out a low gasp. Tommy turned to see what had startled her—and found himself face-to-face with Senator Hargrove.

The senator stood there, his eyes narrowed as he looked from Tommy to the woman holding him captive. He seemed to sense the tension in the air, and his expression darkened with each passing moment.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice like thunder. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

The woman hesitated for a moment before releasing her grip on Tommy's wrist. She stepped back, her eyes never leaving Hargrove as she spoke in a low, steady voice.

"I'm here to stop you," she said. "To stop whatever it is you're planning."

Hargrove's expression hardened, and he took a step closer to the woman. "And who are you to think you can stop me?" he growled.

The woman stood her ground, her chin held high as she met his gaze without flinching. "I'm no one," she said. "Just someone who knows what you're capable of—and who's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you don't hurt anyone else."

Hargrove let out a low laugh, a sound that sent shivers down Tommy's spine. "You think you can take me on?" he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're nothing but a pathetic little girl playing dress-up."

The woman's expression never changed—she simply looked at him, her eyes filled with a quiet resolve that seemed to unnerve the senator. "I don't need to take you on," she said. "All I need is for you to know that there are people out there who won't let you get away with your crimes."

Hargrove's face darkened, and he took a step closer to the woman, his hand clenched into a fist at his side. But before he could say or do anything else, a commotion erupted at the far end of the room once again. This time, it was the sound of sirens wailing outside—the telltale sign that the police had arrived.

The senator's eyes widened in surprise, and he turned to look toward the entrance, his expression one of sheer panic. Tommy watched as Hargrove's composure crumbled before his very eyes—and in that moment, he knew that whatever hold this man had over him was broken.

As the police swarmed into the ballroom, their guns drawn and ready for action, Tommy turned to the woman who had saved him from making a terrible mistake. He owed her his life—his daughter's life—and he knew he could never repay that debt.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you want with Hargrove?"

The woman looked at him, her expression softening as she met his gaze. "I'm just someone who cares about the people of this city," she said. "Someone who won't let them be hurt by men like him."

Tommy nodded, a sense of gratitude washing over him as he watched the police lead Hargrove away in handcuffs. He knew that his life would never be the same—that the choices he made from this point forward would determine not only his own fate but also that of his daughter. And he was determined to make sure they were the right ones.

As the chaos of the evening began to fade, Tommy turned to the woman who had saved him and offered her a small smile. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there."

The woman smiled back at him, her eyes warm as she placed a gentle hand on his arm. "You would have found your own way," she said. "Just like everyone else does."

And with that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd without so much as a backward glance. Tommy watched her go, his heart filled with a sense of hope and determination he hadn't felt in years. He knew that there were still challenges ahead—that the road to redemption would be long and fraught with danger. But he also knew that he was no longer alone.

For the first time in his life, Tommy Malone had someone watching out for him—someone who believed in him enough to help him find his way back from the brink of darkness. And as he stood there in the grand ballroom, surrounded by the remnants of a night that had changed everything, he knew that no matter what happened next, he would never forget the debt he owed to the mysterious woman who had saved his life—and given him a chance at a brighter future.