Saturday, June 28, 2008

Powder Burn Flash # 89 - Clair Dickson

A Bo Fexler Story

"I know you had something to do with those photos!" she hissed, her face close enough that I could smell her lunch.

I smirked. "What makes you so sure about that?"

"You—you're that kind of… trouble-maker."

"Trouble-maker? That's not really fair, is it? Really, we both know that I'm far more of a bitch than just a mere trouble-maker."

She slapped me.

My cheek flushed with the blow, but I stood deadly still. The smirk remained. It takes more than a girly slap to take the edge off my attitude.

"You—how dare you?"

"What reason do I have?" I asked.

There was a small crowd bunching up around us. Officers and staff members in the PD come to see if the former-file-clerk turned PI was really going to duke it out with the secretary. Some tsked. Someone asked if we could move it outside where there was construction being done. It had just rained, after all, and it was nice and muddy.

Sherry shot a dirty look at the cop who said that. I laughed and fanned the flames by saying, "No one wants to see her naked. Her boobs hang like a basset hound's ears."

She went to slap me again, but I snatched her wrist mid-blow.

"You could lose your job."

"No one here would testify on your behalf."

"No? Ruiz still wants to fuck me on all fours. And Leopold wants to show me how big his cock is. There are others who would back me just for a fuck."

"Whore," she spat.

"No shit, Sherlock!"

"You'll regret this."

"Will I? No. I don't think so. I'm enjoying it far too much to regret it."

She blinked back the tears of hurt and rage. "Why are you doing this?"

"No one fucks with Bo Fexler. Don't you get that?"

"This—this is because I told that woman not to hire you, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is. And all the nasty things you've been saying about me. You've affected my ability to earn a living. But I can't afford a lawyer. I can only afford photographs."

"So you admit it?"

"I can't really deny it. I'm in those photos."

Her face turned a badass shade of red that I didn't think humanly possible. She pushed past me and through the crowd to the 11x17 photo I'd hung on the bulletin board. Me and her hubby playing tonsil hockey. Him with his hands up my shirt. Most of my face was blocked by his head, but it was pretty obvious which green-eyed, blond haired woman her hubby was enjoying.

She couldn't blink the tears away anymore. They spilled over. She grabbed the photo, tore it down and stormed away.

"Don't you think that's a little over the top?" one of the older cops muttered. He gave me a shake of his head.

"No. Over the top would have been getting a picture of me giving him head."

He closed his eyes. Probably imaging that scene. On himself. "Yeah—it's harder to pretend the rumor are lies when you have photographic proof, isn't it?"

"Who says I'd go down on someone just for fun? Anyone who says that, I'll take them down, too."

"I don't doubt that. Now, go on, Fexler, get out of here. Go read a book on ethics or something. It might come in handy."

"Yeah, but it might also get in the way of revenge."


BIO: More than 50 Bo Fexler stories have been published. Visit for links to those stories and more. The first Bo Fexler novel 'Sex and Violence' is complete and currently looking for agent to love it and feed it and find it nice home. I've done all this while teaching alternative high school and working three other part time jobs.

1 comment:

r2 said... just don't mess with Bo. Nice one, Clair. I'm glad to hear your novel is getting some action. I can't wait to see Bo hanging around my bookstore.