From her spot on the sidewalk, Jewels could see the front doors of not one but two bars. In a half hour, they'd close and people would come streaming out, drunk and stupid and fairly adventurous. Maybe a little turned on after a night of flirting or unhappy at the prospect of going home alone. Any of those scenarios were just fine by Jewels. She was a working girl and drunks were by far the easiest clients she had. Some of them just ended up rambling for an hour or so and paid her for that, so long as she pretended to listen and offer a few words of comfort and sympathy about how their wives didn't understand them/work didn't appreciate them/kids didn't respect them
( ... )
Which was all the opening the mugger needed, really. Darting out from between the buildings, he grabbed onto Jewel's gaudy blue alligator-skin purse, yanking it off her arm and firmly into his grasp.
"Hey!" Jewels yelped, trying to grab for the strap and missing. Most of her money was stashed into her calf-length boots, but there was still enough in there (not to mention her stash of condoms and lube), that she didn't want to lose it. "Motherfucker, give me back my purse!"
Yeah, he wasn't about to lose a fight over a purse with a hooker. The guy clocked her upside the head with the heel of his hand, causing an explosion of pain in her cheek, and then took off down the street with his prize. The hooker started caterwauling up a storm, calling for help, for someone to stop him. He shot a quick look over his shoulder to make sure that no drunk idiot was going to take her up on it.
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