two.

She held him like she had held so many of her men. He was the law's man, but not like the cops. He was a shark, one that had to fight the in-and-outs with the judges and the juries. There were still a few juries she'd like to hang. They had scared him real good. He was cracking under the pressure and she could see it. It was in his eyes, in his voice. She decided that it was time. Tonight she'd light up the sky.

She held him a moment longer before letting and standing to cross to the liquor cabinet. Knowing he didn't smoke, she poured him a stiff one. "On the rocks, just like mama used to make." With a smirk, the bombshell handed him the shot glass. He stood up and gave her a look. There was something in his eyes. Thanks? I'm sorry? She couldn't tell. It was getting late and she was tired. The day had taken a turn early and she was feeling it. The brunette handed him his fedora. "Get out there, Jack." She watched as he left and shut the door behind him, not knowing if they would see each other again.

Hearing his footfalls go down the stairs, she turned and leaned against the door. The skirt sighed and put her head in her hands. She was tough, but seeing him like that made her skin tingle and her hands itch. She smoothed back her hair and crossed the room, hanging her coat up. She slipped off her heels and adjusted her stockings, cursing quietly at the run that had started to crawl up her leg. It was just one more thing on a day that threatened to break her. Her thoughts returned to him.

Jack had helped put away several of the town's most rotten scum. These filthy men and women would crawl out from the city's moldy underbelly every night and bring down chaos on the heads of the innocent. The woman sat at her desk and crossed her legs. She pulled a pack of unfiltered smokes from a drawer and lit one up, puffing slowly. "Miracle just ain't the shining light it used to be." She turned in her chair and looked out the window behind her. The city stretched for miles, but it was night. It was as if the stars had died, murdered by the thick, cloudy murk Miracle called a sky. Few lights could be seen. The woman didn't want to see what was in those pale, round halos of light, anyway.

She turned back to her desk and propped her feet up. Mother wouldn't approve. "You never look like a lady," she'd say. She exhaled, a small stream of smoke escaping her red-painted lips. Wisps of smoke curled up from the cigarette before pooling at the ceiling and dispersing. The light in the stairwell flickered and she visibly flinched. The woman finished the cigarette and pinched off the cherry into the ash tray before snuffing out the cherry with the rest of the cigarette. Picking up the phone, she dialed and turned to look out the window again. Someone answered.

"It's Charmaine. I need fireworks."

She listened to the Someone on the other side before turning back around to hang up the receiver. It never reached the cradle. The light from the stairwell went dark, and her door opened. One more light died in Miracle.