New Orleans Noir

where I’d left it. My hands shook as I reached into a drawer and pulled out my rolling papers. Just roll the damned thing and give it to him and then call the cops.
    I jumped as the front door opened.
    “Thanks, man,” Phillip said, as he shut the door behind him. “I know you’re tired, buddy, but I just need some company for a little while.”
    I barked out a little laugh as I fumbled with the paper. “Yeah, it’s been kind of a weird night, huh?” Hurry, hurry, roll it and get him out of here.
    “I’m really sorry, Tony,” Phillip said as I finished rolling the joint, licked it, and handed it over to him. “You’re such a good friend. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
    That makes two of us, I thought. Just take your joint and get the fuck out of my house.
    He sat down on the couch and stretched out, giving me that smile yet again. He patted the couch. “Why don’t you sit next to me, Tony?” He twirled the joint in his fingers. “Got a light?”
    The easier to choke me? I swallowed and handed him the lighter. My heart was racing and I sat down, trying to keep my legs from touching his.
    He took a long hit, held it in for a while, then blew it out in a plume. He offered me the joint, which I declined. He took another hit, pinched it out with his fingers, and put it on the coffee table. “You know what?”
    “What?”
    “I’ve always wondered about something but I never felt right asking.” He smiled at me.
    Stay calm, keep cool, don’t alarm him in any way. “What’s that?”
    “How come we’ve never hooked up?” I felt his arm slide around my shoulders, and out of the corner of my eye I saw his big hand on my shoulder.
    I swallowed. “I—I don’t know.”
    “I mean, I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes.” He leaned into me, his face close to mine. “Don’t you think I’m hot, Tony? Don’t you want to fuck me?”
    Oh God, no, this isn’t happening. Get him out of here!
    He kissed me on the cheek, his left hand moving to my chest.
    “Phillip, no.” I tried to pull away from him, but he had a firm grip on my shoulder.
    “You know you want it,” he whispered.
    “No.” I pushed his hands off me and stood up. “I think you should leave.” I was shaking, my stomach churning.
    He stood up as well, his face unreadable. “Come on, Tony.” He reached for me and put his arms around me, pulling me close.
    “Let me go!” I tried pushing him away, but he just laughed and gripped me tighter, and as he pulled me in I knew he was stronger than me, and I wondered if this was the last thing Chad had seen before the hands went around his throat and started choking the life out of him, Phillip’s face moving in closer and closer as everything went dark and he slid to the floor … and my heart started pounding, this was it, I was going to die, he was going to kill me, too …
    “Phillip, don’t!” Adrenaline coursed through my body as I planted my hands on his chest and shoved with every ounce of strength in my body.
    He stumbled backwards, opened his mouth, his face shocked, and gasped, “Hey!” just as the back of his legs hit the coffee table.
    I watched. It seemed as though time had slowed down, as though the entire world had somehow moved into slow motion.
    He fell, his arms pinwheeling as he tried to catch himself.
    The back of his head hit the edge of the mantelpiece with a sickening crunch.
    And then he was sprawled on my floor, his head leaking.
    He let out a sigh and his entire body went limp, his eyes staring at the ceiling.
    “Oh. My. God,” I breathed, as I stepped forward and knelt down, placing my fingers on his carotid artery.
    No heartbeat.
    He was dead.
    “I swear I didn’t mean to kill him!”
    I sank down onto the floor in a stupor and started laughing hysterically.
    Who was I going to call?

LOOT
    BY JULIE SMITH
    Garden District
    M athilde’s in North Carolina with her husband when she hears about the hurricane—the one that’s finally going to fulfill the prophecy about filling the bowl New Orleans is built in. Uh-huh, sure. She’s been there a thousand times. She all but yawns.
    Aren’t they all? goes through her mind.
    “A storm like no one’s ever seen,” the weather guy says, “a storm that will leave the city devastated … a storm that …”
    Blah blah and blah.
    But finally, after ten more minutes of media hysteria, she catches on that this time it might be for real. Her first thought is for her home in the Garden