LEFTY — Chapter Three

by Mary Thomas

The smoke was starting to come out of the basement. The couple would notice soon. Fire alarms would go off soon. Yes! I would go up to a higher floor and run out with everyone when the fire alarm went off. If I came from upstairs, with a crowd of hysterical people I wouldn’t be noticed.

Flawed plan. Projects go up like a match box, and poor people don’t have working fire alarms. Within two minutes smoke was reaching the 3rd floor and I heard a siren in the distance. I had to act quickly. I start yelling fire and banging on doors. That worked. I swear there were ten Mexicans to every apartment running out like the tamale lady had shown up. They were great cover. I was happy it was a predominantly Mexican slum. I didn’t stand out as much as if it had been all black. When I saw this, I made an attempt to yell fire in an accent, drawing from Speedy Gonzalez and the valets from the country club.

I had my escape. I just couldn’t be the first one out, and had to resist knocking over the women and children. Those things would draw attention. I could see the door. I was almost there when my foot went through the stair. I couldn’t get it out and everyone was rushing past me. I was feverishly pulling on my leg with my one and only hand. I heard a cracking noise over my head, and then everything went black.

Next thing I knew I woke up in the hospital a hero. I had saved a building full of impoverished, illegal aliens and lost my hand while doing it. I was a celebrity. I got an offer from the largest law firm in the city to handle all of there pro bono cases. It was a great PR stunt for them to cover up all of the shady shit they did. I got a high paying job and wasn’t really expected to do anything except occasionally wave the nub at cameras for photo ops.

My life was set, until Esmeralda Garcia came into my office.