For all intents and purposes, he was a pimp. Not like the ones of old; he was better than that. Much better. As far as the world was concerned, Yankers was his town. But with a name like Slick Dick, you had to be good at something. He’d either forgotten or just stopped using his real name long ago. Now, he was known as the man that only had to snap his fingers to have a dozen women naked and willing in his bed. But even that got boring sometimes.

He leaned back in his chair, propping his suede shoes up on his desk. A smoke ring floated lazily from his Cuban cigar. Suddenly, an idea came to him. Placing his feet back on the floor, he hit the speed-dial on his speakerphone. There were two rings before the phone was picked up on the other end.

“Hello?” an elderly voice asked.

“Yeah, Charlie, it’s me. Listen, I need two crates of rum over here in two hours. Can you do that?”

There was silence on the other end for a minute. Then an old woman asked, “Dickie? Is that you?”

Slick stared in disbelief at the phone. “M-Mom?!” he stuttered.

“Dickie, you never call anymore!” she complained.

Slick racked his brain, trying to figure out how he had dialed the wrong number.

“Dickie?! Answer me!” the woman demanded.

“Bye!” Slick shouted, slamming the phone down. He sighed and dialed Charlie’s number in by hand.

This time, Charlie picked up on the first ring. “What you need now, boss?” he asked.

Slick rubbed his forehead. “Make it five crates of rum, as soon as you can get over here.”

“Will do, boss,” Charlie said as he hung up.

Slick leaned back in his chair and blew another puff from his cigar. It slowly floated up and broke apart on the ceiling fan.

As he walked down the alley, Blaze could tell something was wrong. It was just to quiet. But that’s when he saw it. The body. It was laying at the end of the alley, a pool of blood slowly spreading from it. Something told him to run, but he had to know. Blaze approached the body cautiously, making sure no one else was around.

He recognized the face immediately, and could feel the sob building up in his throat. “Jennifer!” he screamed, falling to his knees beside the body. The street lamp above him slowly flickered out, leaving Blaze alone in his misery.

Blaze awoke from his nightmare a few minutes later. His entire body was drenched with a heavy coat of sweat. He wiped his forehead slowly, wondering when these visions would ever stop.

As he turned to get out of bed, Blaze felt a soft hand on his shoulder. “Where are you going, hon?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Blaze just shook his head. “I really don’t know, Jessica,” he admitted. “I just can’t stop these nightmares, and they’re really starting to get to me.”

“Come back to bed,” she pleaded, tugging on his arm.

Blaze sighed, but finally slipped back under the sheets. He could instantly feel her arms around him.

“What was so bad about this dream?” she asked.

“All I could see was my family dying around me,” he recalled.

Jessica could really see the fear in his eyes. “Come here, honey,” she said, pulling him closer. She cupped his face in her hands, staring into his eyes. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what you’re going through.”

Blaze nodded slowly. “I just wish I could forget those awful visions,” he muttered.

Jessica smiled and passionately kissed his lips. “I think we can do something about that,” she murmured, a seductive smile spreading across her face.

Blaze’s eyes widened. He could tell that this was going to be a long and sleepless night...