"Chicken Little"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Jackie hung by the tips of her fingers from the edge of the six-story Randall Building, her long, lavender nails leaving a thin white trail on the concrete cornice.

"Me neither," Jackie said to the voice from the roof, straining to hold on a few moments longer. "But here I am. A little help please?"

"Let me get back to you on that," the voice said. Jackie stiffened, and her too-sweaty fingers slipped a couple millimeters.

"Don't take too long." Sonofabitch, she thought. I left the coffee pot on. I left the coffee pot on and my place is going to burn down. Shit.

"Oh, I'll take my time. I'll take all the time I need."

"I'm getting kind of hungry," Jackie said, trying to be funny, though she knew the woman on the roof was in no mood to laugh. Not with her, anyway. It had been self defense, of course, but the woman on the roof wouldn't take that into account when assessing who is to blame the mess in her apartment. The mess who'd been so...together...in bed with the woman just a few minutes ago.

The woman on the roof peered over the edge. She had short blonde hair, blue eyes, and thin lips hidden by thick red lipstick. Jackie noted that she was filing her nails. Great.

"I'll bet you are. I just have one thing to ask you. " She paused.

"What, already?" Jackie could feel her plams growing more wet and slick. She closed her eyes and whispered a short prayer.

"Testy, testy."

"Wouldn't you be? C'mon!" Her hands slid another inch. She opened her eyes and spied a ledge about 10 feet below. It looked too far the first time she saw it, but now, if she could angle her legs just right...no...impossible.

"What I want to know is, who..."

"Who? Who what?" Jackie shouted. There wasn't much time.

"Who is the one who ..."

Too late.

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