The Sleep

The lights were dim in the speak easy that night. It was a Saturday and everyone was getting in last-minute sins before the sabbath. Mary had finished powdering her face and touching up her lipstick when she walked out of the ladies' room. The beading on her dress swayed with each step as she found her way back onto the dance floor. The violinist in the band wove notes together tightly and riskily while the tall man with the cello plucked only the most suggestive tones.1

She didn't notice; but she was being watched by a man at the bar. He looked suave with his slicked hair underneath his designer hat and his black suit. A grin crept its way onto his face when he watched Mary dance slowly with another man to the creeping beat. Suddenly it sped up and limbs flung every way, controlled but freely. The feather in her headband joined its owner in the dance; bouncing to and fro, hither and yon. 2

John asked the barman to have one of the scantily-clad waitresses to deliver a drink to the young lady in coral. "Yes, the one lighting up the dance floor; right in the middle." He requested of one the sequined waitresses. She smiled to him, as though to say yes, as she turned towards the mass of dancers. Mary felt a slight tap on her shoulder when she noticed the girl with the tray. "From the man at the far right of the bar." She took it from her and saw John tip his hat at her. "Excuse me, sir." She apologized to her dance partner, who she'd not even known. Mary abandoned the dance floor and made her way, gracefully, to the obviously interested man. 3

"Nice night for a drink, eh?" He flashed a winning smile in her direction, promptly returned. "Every night's a good night for a drink when you've got this intoxicating music to add to it." Mary could tell this guy was a real cake eater by his manners and sly grin. Setting her drink down and making herself comfortable in the seat next to his, she played innocent. "Say," she began with an amused face "what are you doing here anyway?" John put his left hand underneath his chin and looked at the brilliantly glowing chandalier. "I enjoy the music and these funny illegal beverages." He looked square in her emerald eyes as she scoffed. "Says you." she teased.4

That's where it all began, in that dim place called "The Canary's Cage". Two nights later, following a similar occasion the night before, John showed up at her door with some flowers. "For me? You old charmer, you shouldn't have!" Mary kidded as she led him in. The expensive bouquet was put in a vase on the mantle underneath the ornate mirror. "Looks beautiful, simply perfect there." she admired. John was content with gazing into the mirror at their reflections. "They are lovely, but they can't compare to you." He nearly whispered. She was startled at this comment from that dapper man next to her. And to think, she thought he was a manipulator. "It's getting late," He persuaded "Might we hit the Canary?" The lady consented and they set out for another night on the town. 5

The same usual crowd haunted the building as laughter and feet-stamping could be heard from every direction. John noticed a couple kissing in a corner. "Would you look at that?" he asked rhetorically as the beginning of a crooning song laid its notes upon the speakeasy. Mary merely wrapped her arm around his and directed him to the gathering of dancers in the center of the golden hall. A disbelieving expression crept upon Johns face as he whispered in her ear. "I don't dance." She merely let out a small giggle and kept walking. "Seriously," he began "I never do. I just sit and watch, keep the glasses some company." Mary shook her head. "Fine, I'll keep you company then." 6

They talked of politics, fashion, music, and books. "Yes, well, I just can never find the time to get my paws on any Shakespeare. Shame, really." John replied with another sip of his spirits. A clock from somewhere in the building echoed twelve chimes. "Oh," Mary began "I'd better get going, I need my beauty rest, you know." She got up to leave the bar when she noticed John quickly following suit. "Come home to my place tonight, won't you?" Mary grinned but looked at him accusingly. "John! I only met you two days ago! What makes you think..." She was cut off. "It's not like I'm asking you to become promiscuous, I just want to spend some time with you. I'll even sleep on the couch." He looked sincere so she allowed him to lead the way.7

John exited the shining, black vehicle and helped his infatuation out by the hand. "Nice place you've got here." It was a huge house almost on the outskirts of the city; three stories tall and reeking of riches. He smiled at her and held fast to her hand. "Shall we?" The two of them strode up the stairs to the magnificent wooden door, Mary glancing here and there to admire the detail of the hedges. They entered the main hall, filled with old pictures and fine, silk tablecloths on antique tables. John led the way into the right sitting room. Mary took a seat on an early 1900's couch as he poured some drinks. 8

The phone rang shrilly as John set the bottle down. "Excuse me." He bowed to her, which made her giggle. "Yes?" the charmer asked. "Linniochi, there's a gang war on. The fellas wanted me to warn you. Some of Capone's guys are after you. They said they're on their way." His eyes turned from that of pleasure to that of worry. "They... what? How do they know where I live?" He pushed his hand across his hair, leaning in the doorway. The voice replied. "They got Danny. They kidnapped him in an alleyway and beat it out of him later. Luckily he survived and got here somehow. But that's not my concern. Look, if you don't do something about yourself, you're gonna get whacked. Get out." John couldn't believe it. What started all this, he didn't know. All he knew was that the girl he loved was here and some rough guys were on their way looking to kill him. "Mary..." he whispered to himself. He never even told her what he did for a living. 9

He set the telephone's ear piece back on the body and rushed to Mary. "Mary." He said with all seriousness, grabbing hold of her shoulders. She was standing near the Victrola, trying to play a record. "Mary, will you kiss me?" He asked, looking concerned. She laughed with red lips. "John, I already told you!" He wouldn't waver. "What if the world was ending tonight?" John practically begged. She pursed her lips slightly, as though considering the thought. "Despite the total falsity of that, if it were true, I suppose I would." The man held her close, staring into her eyes; searching for escape, as he pulled the small gun from his coat. Mary's gaze was fixed on his pleading face, she didn't see. 10

There was a loud, pounding knock on the door. "John." she whispered as he ignored the noise. "The world is ending." He replied, having nothing to do with the knocking; or so it seemed to her. "I love you." John breathed as he pointed the gun to her back, aiming for the two of them. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Passionately, she responded. There they were, locked in time with alcohol on their lips, bodies close and arms entwined. Distressed but temporarily content, he pulled the trigger and ended the world. No one would take him alive. No one would tear him from his girl.