Good Morning, Morgan
Last night sure was a tough one
Photograph by: Darrin Atkins
They wrapped ourselves in a big heavy towel as they sat on the rocks and enjoyed the morning sunrise.
“I want a commitment,” she said to him.
Hector was all banged up and hurt like hell.
“You’re my girl, Morgan. Always will be."
A seagull screeched out on the water.
“I mean what we talked about before," she said. “So many times."
Her words trailed off as she spoke, floating into the morning mist.
His jaw hurt from the first punch he got last night, deep in the dark alley off Mission Street in San Francisco, in the Tenderloin neighborhood.
Yeah, he had been there looking for trouble, and he knew where to find it. That trouble had a name and T. Thorne Richardson was it.
“You like threatening my girlfriend’s father?" he asked Thorne who stood in between two leathernecks. "You like extorting them and making them pay?"
The first thug was thin and quick and got to his jaw fast, but Hector caught him with a solid uppercut that knocked him out.
The second goon was slow, but he was powerful. Hector could feel his body punch hurt when it landed. No matter he threw some hard punches and then locked the ugly man into a reverse hold and snapped his arm until he broke it.
Then Hector started toward Thorne and said, “You’re next.”
“All right, you win," said Thorne with hints of disdain. “So long as you keep out of this neighborhood."
“No promises," said Hector as he left. "Adios, amigo.”
“Hector?" asked Morgan.
“Yes, dear."
“Did you hear anything I just said?"
“I did. No more fighting."
“You promise this time?" she asked.
“No promises," he answered.
“Well then," she said. “Let’s go back to the room. I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse."
