Heart of Gold
Z. Stenman
Lou shivered, pulling his tattered black leather duster closer as he stepped into the cold autumn rain. Days like this made him lonely and depressed, sucking the last of his joy from his already empty routine. As he walked from the smoke-belching city bus to his dilapidated apartment building, he wished he had someone who would love him unconditionally - someone other than Edna, his fat, gray tabby.
Unfortunately, it had been two years to the day since Francesca had left him, and his greatest desire this night was to collapse on the couch and eat dinner in front of the TV. Even thinking about his one-time Fiancée made him want to drink himself into oblivion. Pounding the elevator button, he tried to find excuses to avoid his job the next day, as he would likely have a first class hangover.
Not that he ever accomplished anything at that hellhole to begin with; all the good articles always went to the chief editor's nephew. Poor Lou Romani never even heard about anything other than depressing, hopeless, banal issues, such as the city's declining utility network. Meanwhile, Al managed to land the front-page articles like the one about the Berkemeier scandal.Opening the door to Apartment 1306, he flipped the light switch on with a bit too much force. Maneuvering into the cramped kitchen, he filled Edna's food dish and popped a frozen dinner into the microwave. While his buck-and-a-half heart attack heated up, he whipped a forty-ounce bottle of beer from the fridge. Pulling the greasy, nondescript meat patty and pseudo-spuds in gravy from the beeping appliance, he plopped himself on his dingy green couch and turned on a trite sitcom.
After he downed his bland dinner and drank most of his Bud Light, the power unexpectedly winked out. "What the hell?" Remembering the bitter weather, he merely lay down on the stained upholstery with the intent to take a nap until he could watch the tube again. "Some moron hit a pole," he moaned.
o sooner had he made himself comfortable, he heard the sounds of a struggle in the darkened hall. Grasping for the closest weapon at hand, an old Louisville Slugger, he dashed out the door intending to see what on earth was going on.
To his great surprise, he found a thug wielding a butcher knife threatening some redheaded gal he'd never seen before. "Back off, buddy, or I'll bash your brains out!" Lou roared, suddenly feeling more alive than ever before. He charged, swinging the bat in a sweeping, downward arc, trying to knock his foe to the ground. The goon blocked the blow, his blade biting deep into the splintered wood. His weapon hopelessly entangled with his opponent's, Lou slammed his knee into the assailant's stomach. The larger man groaned under the unexpected assault, dropping to his knees. "Mess with the best, die like the rest!" Remembering a taunt he had used back in his boxing days in college, he smashed his right fist into the mysterious attacker's temple, sending him crashing into oblivion.The woman smiled gratefully at him as the electricity came back on, "Thank you. I owe you my life."
"Why was he after you?" He asked, his gray eyes meeting her cerulean ones, dismissing the amorous feelings pulsing through his chest as a reaction between the excitement and the alcohol. "D'you even know?"
She grimaced, "My brother leaked information about the Berkemeiers to the Trib, and he disappeared last week. When I started to track him down, whoever got their paws on him apparently decided to do me in. Would you please help me find him?" Trembling, she knelt on the dusty linoleum floor, awaiting her answer."
Lou smiled lopsidedly, "Sure, I'll help you Miss," he trailed off, realizing he was missing key information, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Sorry, I'm Meghan Ericssen; and you are?"
"Lou Romani, a pleasure to meetcha, Meghan." Disbelief played across his gunmetal gaze, the whole thing seeming like a dream. "I'm a reporter for the Trib," he managed, "Although I ain't no Clark Kent."
"I'm just a waitress at The Assembly Line," her girlish, freckled face blushing at the mention of the blue collar bar near the factory district. "I can't go to my apartment tonight, they might try to attack me there. Can I stay at yours?"
"Sure, I'll take the couch and give you my bed."