Ralph Morrison had been in and out of trouble since he was a kid, shoplifting, purse snatching, a few break and enters then as he grew older he graduated to bigger crimes with bigger rewards. Unfortunately, these also brought more dangerous people into his orbit and the risks had far greater consequences- like now. Another crack to his jaw sent a spatter of blood across the room and his head snapped violently to the side. This was not how Ralph had planned the start to his day.

Boyish looks and dark wavy hair had gained Ralph entrance into many a social event from where he brokered his deals. Women, and some men, found him more than a little interesting and not just from a business standpoint, although Ralph tended to avoid personal relationships, being unattainable was another card to be played when necessary. Ralph's true personal life was his best well kept secret.

It was, however, part of the reason that Ralph had an associate to deal with the type of situations he now found himself in; Ralph could not stand physical pain and right now his associate was nowhere to be found.

"The desk clerk said I already picked up the package when I called, Ralphy, but we both know that's not true so where is it?"

Ralph tongued a loose tooth and hung his head, allowing a dribble of blood to run down his chin. "So help me, I don't know. I left it there with your name on it like we planned. I don't know what happened." He lifted his face and tried to express his sincerity through the cuts and blood. "Honest to God . . ."

"Ralphy, Ralphy, Ralphy, you have made a huge mistake this time."

The man pulled his leather gloves tighter onto his hands and sighed as though he was distraught over what was happening. "I took a very big chance bringing those gems into the country because you promised to have the money to pay for them. Now what am I supposed to do? It's going to leave me out of pocket for some time until I can find another buyer and that's not how I do business." He cocked his fist and Ralph cried out, tears streaming.

"No! Please! I swear I'll make it up somehow. I'll find your money somehow . . . don't- no more . . . please."

"Oh you'll find it alright, Ralphy, and when you do there will be some renegotiating both on the amount and on your future." The fist drove into Ralph's face with devastating force and just before losing consciousness; he felt the sharp pain of a smashed cheekbone.

********

Jessica slid down in the seat of her car as Donald came out the front door of the cleaners. She watched him pull a pair of gloves off and toss them into the waste container on the corner and she shuddered at what that little observation meant.

Donald headed down the street with angry strides, jamming a hand in the air at a passing cab and waiting until it u-turned in front of him. She sat back up and stared at the door to the cleaners, tapping the steering wheel indecisively. The bit with the gloves suggested that Ralph just had a very one-sided conversation with Donald Carver and if her name had come up she might well be advised to stay out in the wind.

She steered the car into the eastbound traffic and followed the stream out of the city to the small rental house she was sharing with two other women. Her thoughts drifted to Jeff and she she suddenly felt a mix of regret and guilt after targeting him to do her little deed at a time when he was still vulnerable from his sudden loss of employment.

She suddenly braked sharply; she had been tailgating without realizing it. Dwelling on the men in her life could prove to be a dangerous pastime. Ralph had come to her attention at a time in her life when she needed something to get her juices flowing and something that would vindicate the career choices she'd made.

They shared a fondness for clubbing, vodka shooters and undemanding sex, the latter obviously less important to him than the scheme he had proposed when he discovered that she was a danger groupie. He liked the idea of a woman excited by a guy who walked on the edge. Jessica chalked up his performance to his own deficiency; she had never had trouble in that department before.

When she came to realize that his, body guard, Orly, was the real source of his interest she determined that she would use what was left of the relationship to acquire a little nest egg for herself. The emerald scheme he had entered into with Donald Carver and another unnamed party was just the ticket.

She slowed for the corner and made her turn, slowing more as she wheeled into the narrow driveway beside the tiny bungalow. As a check, she popped the trunk and lifted the tire cover, assuring herself that the bag was still safely tucked inside the spare then she closed the lid firmly and hurried up the steps into the house.

"Jessie, is that you?"

"Yeah, hi Jean, you not working today?"

Jean Vance flopped out of the bathroom in her Snoopy slippers and humungous bathrobe, pushing a large towel through her hair. "Later. I've got a shoot at the mall for that new shoe store. Have to get all pink and pretty first." She scrubbed at her head and flopped back into the bathroom.

"Is Wendy coming in tonight?" Jessica called from the kitchen.

"I think so." Jean hollered back. "Her flight is supposed to get in around nine. She'll probably be shacking with the pilots before she comes home. You know Wendy."

Jessica puffed out noisily. Wendy was a very promiscuous flight attendant, much like the stereotype in the movies but she was a generous woman and never failed to provide her share of the rent . . . unlike Jean whose income varied from huge to nothing in a matter of days.

Fortunately, Jessica was able to cover most of the shortfalls in the interim. She scooped some coffee into the filter, poured water into the machine and set the pot on the element.

The view from the little window over the sink gave onto a shallow ravine of Sumac and Silver birch with a ratty looking lawn that bumped roughly against the edge. Jessica stared out the window listening to the coffee pot and wondering what might happen to Wendy and Jean when she left with her new windfall.

Of course she still had to make certain that she could leave, and in one piece; Donald Carver was definitely not one to dismiss eight hundred thousand dollars without a mean fight. The pot hissed to a stop and she dumped the filter and poured a steaming mug, carrying it into the little sitting room and curling up on the sofa.

Jeff invaded her thoughts unbidden and she pondered the nature of her character as the idea of using him again crossed her mind.

********

Ralph Morrison dabbed at the swelling on his cheek and brusquely pushed the nurse's hand away when she tried to get him to leave it alone.

"You'll only aggravate it doing that, Mister Morrison. The cheek has been reset but all we can do is tape it in position, we can't put a cast on your face." She considered how much that would please her if it were possible.

"It's my face, okay. Are we done here?" His voice was blurred through his swollen lips.

"All except the signing of the forms and picking up your prescriptions." She snapped sharply.

"Good, let's do it." He followed her out of the exam room, his discomfort not distracted by the shifting hospital whites.

The young man hurried forward as Ralph approached the nurse's station. "Ralph, Jesus, you okay, dude?"

"Is the car outside?" Ralph scribbled his name on the hospital form and tossed the pen down.

"Yeah, right by the door. You shoulda heard the dude outside −"

"Yeah, yeah. You're a tough guy, Orly. Take these and get 'em filled then meet me at the store." He shoved the prescription chits into the man's hand and pushed past him down the hall.

He nudged the car into traffic, ignoring the blast of horns, and drove painfully away. Orly, meanwhile, stood confused on the hospital driveway uncertain as to why he was left behind. Ralph headed straight to the Carleton Hotel and parked directly in front of the lobby doors.

The elderly doorman started to protest then thought better of it when Ralph bared his chipped teeth. The desk clerk glanced up at the image bearing down on him and blanched slightly as Ralph reached the counter, smashing his fist down and growling about the package he'd left for pick up.

After having to repeat his question more clearly and slowly, the man assured him that Mister Carver had indeed picked it up and had presented his driver's license for identification. Ralph simmered silently as he listened.

When the man showed him the form that had been signed, Ralph knew right away that it wasn't Carver's signature; it wasn't anybody's signature that could be recognized. He growled again and stormed back out to his car, peeling away from the curb and aiming for his store to the accompaniment of more horns.

Ralph snarled out the windshield as he sped through traffic. Jessica and Orly were the only people besides the clerk at the hotel who knew about the package and who it was for; the desk clerk he could ignore and Orly . . . well Orly wouldn't dare.

Jessica was another matter.