Who doesn't love a leprechaun? Happy St. Pat's, enjoy . . .
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Sunday
afternoon and the bar was empty. Audrey sighed as she sipped her wine, tucked
into a window booth overlooking the antique shops on Royal Street. She wished
Declan hadn’t left so soon.
A glint
of gold caught her eye and she peered around the dusty drapes. Was that an earring in the corner? Something green moved just out of sight and
she turned suddenly to see a small, fat hand poised over her wineglass.
“Hey!”
Audrey snapped and grabbed the arm of a tiny man wearing a soiled emerald
jacket and a sour expression.
“Damnit!”
The little man cursed as he slumped into the seat opposite her. He had a whiskery red face with untidy
eyebrows and sharp, yellow teeth.
“Who are
you – and what’s in my drink?” Audrey demanded, looking into her glass, where a
suspicious powdery substance left a filmy white trail.
“Just
call me Frank.” He growled in a nasally Brooklyn accent.
“And my
drink?” Audrey pressed.
Frank
shrugged. “Hey, my lucky charms ain’t what they used to be.”
“You’re a leprechaun?”
Audrey looked skeptical.
“Well, I ain’t Santa.” Frank snorted. Wiggling
a scruffy brow, he rasped, “Wanna ride my rainbow?”
Audrey shuddered. “I’ll pass.”
Frank scowled.
“Your loss, girlie. Not all my parts are pint-sized.” He leaned over the table. “That ain’t what I
want, though.”
“Then
what do you want?” Audrey asked.
“I’m . .
. hungry.” Frank looked at Audrey with wet, rum-tinged eyes.
She shoved
a silver bowl of snack mix across the table.
“Help yourself.”
Frank shook
his head. “I’m an Atkins man, girlie.
Meat only.” He licked his lips and stared longingly into the v-neck of
her sweater. “Tastes just like chicken.”
“Whoa!” Audrey grabbed her purse to her chest.
Frank’s
rubbery lips curved in an unconvincing smile. “Aw, don’t be that way. Just a taste?”
“No!”
Audrey hugged her bag tighter.
“How
‘bout a toe,” Frank pleaded, “you got ten, you won’t miss one.”
“No!”
Audrey shoved her feet under the chair rung.
“Come
on!” Frank moaned, his nails scraping the table. “I’ll give you a pot of gold for your
pinkie.”
Audrey
scooted to the edge of the chair, eyeing Frank’s greedy fingers.
“Don’t make me beg, girlie.”
But
Audrey wouldn’t budge.
“Bitch!”
Frank hissed. Suddenly he was beneath the table, sinking his sharp teeth into
Audrey’s ankle.
“Ow!”
She cried, feeling Frank bite down harder, scraping bone. Blood spurted onto her jeans as Frank’s strong,
fat arms tugged on her legs. Panicked,
she smashed her wineglass over Frank’s head and he shrieked, relaxing his grasp.
“Let go,
you little troll!” Audrey kicked him hard and he rolled into the dark space
beneath the piano while she ran out the door.
Under
the piano, Frank the leprechaun sat up slowly, rubbing his jaw. He picked a strand of Audrey’s flesh from
between his pointy teeth and pocketed a gold earring from the floor. Straightening
his vest, he grimaced.
“Next
time I pick a fucking blonde.”
______________________
Like Audrey? Want to see her kick some flesh-eating scavenger tail? Click here to read the first chapter of my book, The Getaway Girls: A New Orleans Tale of Monsters, Mayhem and Moms for free!
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