Yardbird

2

2Maggie Spiff stood at the top of the stairs looking like a statue of a Greek goddess, her arms folded around her abundant cleavage. Her tangled brown hair was up in a bun, one strand hanging down past her big brown eyes. She was in a green silk nightgown that clung to the ideal body that represented bombshell beauties of those days. Her mother's Italian features showed through in Maggie. It was a fact that Oliver Spiff had been traveling in Italy to make a deal with the powers that ran that boot land to bring his father's custom suits there. Spiff met Maggie's mother and practically shanghaied her to Texas.

She ran off more times the Texas Rangers or the OHP could count. Every time they'd catch up with Isabella, she was shacked up with somebody else. Which is how Maggie was born. As everyone suspected, Maggie's real father was half-black, half-Kichai Indian. Another fact, Oliver Spiff had the Texas Rangers kill Isabella's boyfriend.

Nine months later, Maggie was born.

Scratch looked up at her. They locked eyes. She smirked and let out a long sigh.

“You doin' my daddy's dirty work again?”

“I'm always doing you daddy's dirty work,” Scratch said.

“Mmm.” Maggie nodded. “Because of little old me, I suppose.”

Scratch put his fedora on his balding head. “It's always about you, Miss Maggie.”

She shrugged. “Can't get through this life without raisin' some hell.”

“Ah. Yes. That might be true.” Scratch laughed. “So, uh, Miss Maggie?”

“Yes, Mr Williams?”

“Just to let you know… that truck driver who made that record singin'?”

“What about him, Mr Williams?”

“I saw him on Ed Sullivan.”

“Is that a fact, Mr Williams?”

“That's a fact, Miss Spiff,” Scratch said. He headed to the front door of Spiff Manor. He twisted the door knob and turned to Maggie. “He took that beating I gave him like a real man. Looks like his face healed real good.”

“I'm glad, Mr Williams,” was all she said. No conscience about getting that man into trouble or in danger of death. Just cold like. Real damn cold.

“You should've held on to him, ma'am. Yep. That boy has talent,” Scratch crossed the threshold and called out: “I think he's going to make a lot of money.”