brothel, cocktail, cocktails, fiction, flash, flash fiction, murder, read, short story, story
Last Week’s FFF: Ashes
Ricky stared at the cards in his hands. He held a pair of twos, and nothing on the table could help him.
“Fold or raise?” Abbot asked, sitting across from him.
Ricky swirled his gin, thinking.
“You sir,” he paused to take a sip. “Are as impatient as a Moscow Mule.”
“As stubborn as one, as well. Now, make your move or I’ll make it for you.”
Ricky sighed and threw his cards face down on the table. The man across grinned and gathered the pot.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ricky said.
He brought his cups back up to his lips, but stopped when he heard a woman’s scream echo down the nearby stairwell. Continue reading