Gutter

Did I care? Sure, I cared, but that didn’t mean I was about to piss off a guy twice my size. I walked around the blog, passing time until he left with his goons. It didn’t take too long. I walked back around the the corner the fight was happening at. Not much of a fight, in my opinion, being three on one and all. The man that was now laying on the curb with a cracked skull was giving his all, but it's not like he had a chance. The guy’s head was bleeding profusely, puddling up all around him. I took of my shirt and put pressure on the wound. There I was, sitting in puddle a puddle of blood half naked in the middle of town. The guy was out, clearly, and I wondered if I was going to have to carry him out of here. Nobody stopping me from just leaving him here. In fact, I was in more threat of someone coming up and trying to accuse me wounding the guy. The guy looked rich, big roller suit and all. Wasn’t even worth checking his pockets, there was no way they left anything behind. He was the image of a sleazy fat cat, you’d think his hair might’ve took most of the fall, it was so gelled up. Eventually, his blood stopped flowing out on me, so he was either good, or he was dead. Before I actually bothered to check, he opened his eyes.

“Damn…” He mumbled. He moved his arm up to his head, only to notice me.

“Not a doctor, but I’d recommend staying still or a bit.” I said.

“Guess you ain’t one of the goons then.” He grumbled.

“No, but I am charging hourly.”

“Ain’t gonna tell off the guy who’s got my head in his grip.”

“So, you trying to become a boxer? You’re a bit old.”

He frowned.

“No. I’m trying to walk home after being dumped in the middle of the damn ghetto.”

“Shoulda lost the suit.”

“Should’ve kept your shirt.”

“I think my shirt was worth a lot less than your suit.”

“You’re damn right about that.”

Started thinking this guy liked the word damn to much at this little juncture.

“Anyway, what are you gonna do now?”

“Maybe I’ll lie here for a while,enjoy the breeze.”

“Good with me, I’m charging hourly.”

“Ooh, maybe not. Already have to buy a new suit, guess I gotta get going.

“Yeah, right. I see you making another block before either passing out or getting robbed.”

“That so, what do you expect me to do?”

“Oh, I expect you to be dumb. What you should do is let me get you the hell out of here, the safe...ish way.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“How many times do you expect me to say it?”

“Oh yeah. Hourly pay. You got it, let’s move.

I grabbed his arm and helped pull him up. He was shaky, but he could stand.