"Alright, Allison, my fiancée, was kidnapped about five years ago outside her apartment by her loser of an ex-boyfriend who wanted a hostage for his escape to Mexico, just one step ahead of the heat. He cuffed her to his car and poured booze down her throat until she was a helpless puddle by the time they reached the border. The useless asshole then proceeded to piss off one of your drug dealing associates who planted the worthless shit into a shallow grave. He was no loss, but it was decided that her flesh was slightly worth more alive rather than dead. So, for the last few years she's been dancing, stripping and fucking in your clubs or whorehouses while we've been searching for her. Nasty things adventures ... make one late for supper!" The man relaxed just a little. I was sure he could read me like an open book and would know of the slight hint of flummery on my part.Taking this as a good omen of hope I continued, "It wasn't until May contacted me that I had any idea where Allison. The doctor should be in to see you soon, but if he isn’t, I’ll page him again,’ she smiled, caressed his handsome face and left to get him a shot of morphine. She made her way to the nurses’ station and around the desk to the supply room. ‘Hi Jenny.’ She said to a large black woman sitting at a small desk in the corner of the room. ‘I need a shot of morphine for the guy in 2B.’ Shawnee smiled to the woman as she typed on a computer. ‘Hello Miss Shawnee. How are you this fine evening?’ Jenny asked in her deep, Cajon voice, as she typed in the bed number and quickly knew that Shawnee was going to be very upset. ‘Well sugar, I got some bad news for you,’ she said turning to look up at Shawnee. ‘All I can give him is some aspirin,’ she said with a frown, knowing it was wrong what the hospital did to people and it didn’t bother her if she had a chance to make things better. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’ Shawnee asked, feeling a massive rush of anger flooding her body. ‘He got hit by a car.
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