Hair neat, chin up, back straight, feet together. Hair washed, glasses clean, clothes fresh. Makeup applied. I was trying not to go overboard, but I wasn’t even sure where that particular line had been set. Had I gone too far, not far enough? What image, exactly, was I supposed to present, here?
Fuck me, I’m nervous.
My heart was pounding with anticipation. One false move, one wrong step, and this would be over before we could ever start.
We walked as a pair. I let him lead, let him take point.
Did I trust him? It didn’t really matter. He just needed to get the job done.
The weights behind us dragged.
I was wary of the eyes. The people watching, noticing. Even if they were mere glances, even if I didn’t register in anyone’s attention, I was still here, being seen. I wasn’t used to this. I preferred staying in the dark, keeping to the shadows.
The chandelier shined bright above. Exposing me, attacking me as if it was my natural enemy.
He stumbled. I stuck my hand out for support. And to lessen the chance of him falling, but it resulted in getting even more eyes on us, the stares lingering even longer.
All I wanted was to get in, and get out. It was all I had to do. For now. The hard part would come a little later.
For now, I just had to get through this. And this was not where my strengths were applicable. He was the face, and I was the muscle. I had no use here.
Hair neat, chin up, back straight, feet together…
We approached, and he stopped. I took my hand off of him. He was fine, now.
The lady smiled. Her hair was tied back, tight, not a single strand of hair was loose or out of place. Her cheeks were a rosy red, her lips cherry. Her makeup was better than mine. It looked professionally done.
And her eyes.
There was a thin, ashy black line that ran around her eyes, accentuating her lashes and giving her a fuller look. Pretty seemed like an understatement, and beautiful seemed overdramatic. Somewhere in between.
She asked us a question. He answered.
“May I have a name?”
She looked at me. I froze.
I felt my cheeks warm up by a significant degree. Rosier than hers.
“-had better knock him the fuck out.”
Again, I found myself agreeing with him. We couldn’t drag this thing with Granon out any more than was appropriate or allowed. Doing so would paint the wrong image. That we couldn’t handle situations as they came up, however minor or pressing. Intruders, deals, relations with residents in territories. Word spreads, and anything negative or damaging could ruin our reputation. And our reputation was still developing. It had to be nurtured, helped along the way. If we fucked it up now, it could disrupt everything.
Seeds and roots. It all went back to that concept.
“I’m with you on that,” I said. “Any potential ideas?”
“Not at the moment. That’s not my department.”
I frowned, even though I was on a call.
“Not mine, either.”
But we both knew whose department it was, though. And they weren’t here, and they weren’t responding to our attempts to reach them.
The silence was disconcerting.
“I could try,” I said. “Worked out okay for me, just now.”
Tone turned his head, slow, giving me a prolonged stare. He still had a hand on Sarah, keeping her steady.
His look wasn’t one of contempt or distaste. It was a response, his way of bringing attention to what I had just done, or said. He seemed to have a way of getting a lot across with not a single word spoken.
“It… worked out,” I said, amending my previous statement, staring back at Tone.
“Repeat that? I can barely hear you.”
The rumbling to the back of us was getting louder. I had to speak up.
“I said we could try to come up with something, ourselves.”
Lawrence responded, but the rumbling overtook the first part of his sentence. I tilted back, getting ready to check behind us, after I concluded my call.
“-so helpless without her, but we could use her input, too. Which requires her being here. Dammit. Still nothing?”
“I’ve been talking with you this whole time. Nothing’s changed. I can try and give her another call after I hang up.”
“Okay then, do that. I’m, ah fuck, still hurting here. Head back to the theater and we can sort things out.”
“Will do,” I said. “Bye.”
I hung up.
I opened my mouth to give out another order, but the rumbling behind us swelled, and I could hear it move around us, to the side.
A vehicle, then. An engine?
I could see him on the other side of the window. A man and his motorcycle. If I could even call him a man, and that thing a motorcycle.
The biker and his bike matched in color. A dark, smoky grey. It would have been black if the sun wasn’t out, beaming, letting the subtle shade show.
The color was all the same, but it was the form that twisted and snarled.
The bike itself had mechanical parts that twined together, running together, parts meeting and flowing into one another like sinew on muscle. Exhaust flowed out of the tailpipe, billowing out, to the point that no one could drive behind the bike without losing the ability to see. I checked the lane behind him, and it had thinned out. No one was following him.
Not a machine, it looked like a beast.
It wasn’t any normal bike.
The biker, too, had an aura about him that bordered on the fantastical.
Covered completely. Helmet, gloves, shoes. All matching in color and design. The rider was as sleek as the beast was not. Where the bike thrummed with power, rumbling, the biker was still, showing no sign that riding the thing was easy. Showing no sign at all. The face was obscured, only a black plate staring back at me.
With every inch of his body covered, it stripped away his identity, the person underneath. What remained was a new image, portrayed for the world to see. The rider and the beast.
No ordinary biker, and no ordinary bike.
I had a feeling I knew what was being portrayed. Or who it represented.
It was a uniform.
Reggie spoke, breaking the relative silence. The rumbling had only gotten louder now that the biker was riding in tandem with us.
“Should we do something?”
A good question. Were we supposed to engage, respond?
“He’s not doing anything,” Tone said, changing his gaze from eye to the biker. To the ferryman. “He’s just… looking at us.”
The ferryman stared, only taking the occasional glance ahead to keep himself steady. His helmet blocked our view of his face.
It felt odd, not being able to see what was usually so common. Another person’s face. We couldn’t figure him out, couldn’t parse why he would be here. Did other people feel that way towards Blank Face, V?
I didn’t appreciate having that feeling be directed back at me.
“Voss?” Reggie asked.
“How’d you want to take this?”
Various things to consider. Was he here to sabotage us? Was he hostile? The longer we drove, the less likely that seemed. We were going down the highway, surrounded by other cars, many of them being the ones that were backed up by the blockade earlier. Getting into a conflict now would lead to an even bigger pile up.
We continued to drive, and so did the ferryman. If he had something planned, he would have done it by now.
But he didn’t.
Then, why was he here?
“Keep driving,” I said, careful. “I don’t think he has ill intentions.”
“Are you certain about that?” Tone asked.
No, but what else can we do?
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah.”
Reggie kept the van at a steady speed, steering slightly as the highway curved. The ferryman kept up with us as we went along.
I was more curious than worried, now. Well, I still harbored a little concern. Having Styx’s Gang make a sudden appearance at this juncture could only lead to more complications. And we were trying to make things with Granon simple, and quick.
The ferryman raised his arm. I tensed, putting my phone away, watching him with a cautious eye.
Not to his side. He wasn’t reaching for anything.
Helmet gazing back, a hand off of the coiling metal handlebar. The beast crawled forward at a brisk speed.
“What’s he doing?”
It was Sarah that asked. She hadn’t turned to look, or perhaps she couldn’t, the impact of a van crashing into two cars was finally starting to get to her.
I really felt for Sarah. I wished I had come up with another plan, one that didn’t put her in danger.
I kept my eyes on the ferryman.
“Is he flipping us off?” Tone asked, angered.
I looked again.
It wasn’t that, the gesture was wrong. Unless he meant to flip himself off.
He lifted the other finger.
“Peace,” I said. But I had my own interpretation.
That prompted a few ideas to formulate in my mind.
“Find a place to park,” I said, still watching him. “Somewhere out of the way.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Tone said.
“He’s not here to pick a fight. Otherwise, he’d have tried something by now, and I’d personally see to it that he fails.”
“So, what?” Reggie asked.
“There’s something he wants, whether it’s from us or for us. Let’s find out what that is. Take the next exit.”
Reggie gave me a nod, and signaled that he was about to make a turn. The ferryman acknowledged us by slowing down, maneuvering around until he was back to tailing us again. Smoke trailed us as we made it off the highway.
In taking the time to decide what our course of action should be, we had gone a considerable distance. We were well beyond the scope of our territory, entering into another part of town I had never visited before. Another neighborhood, but there were more shopping centers and restaurants around.
I let Reggie pick where we’d stop. I wasn’t familiar with the area, and I figured that I needed to learn how to delegate. It was an important skill in being a leader, one I couldn’t lack. I’d get in the practice when and where it was possible.
We moved, and the ferryman followed.
The back of a strip mall, between two trailers that were unloading inventory. No one was around.
Reggie stopped the car, and I heard the rumbling finally stop, as well. The ferryman was here, too.
I got the door for myself. I glanced back, and saw that Tone was still tending to Sarah, going the extra mile to make sure she was okay.
They could stay, I wasn’t going to push them any further.
I got out of the van. Another set of footsteps joined me.
Reggie. I wasn’t shocked to see him here, but I did appreciate it. Every little bit would help.
So many problems, happening and presenting themselves one after the other. Granon, those girls, the blockade, and this, with the ferryman. Not to mention that D had simply disappeared on us, leaving us with nothing but silence.
A lot on our plate. A lot of work, running a gang.
We walked, and so did the ferryman. We met at a middle point.
I was the first to speak.
“Here we are. What do you want from us?”
The ferryman looked between the both of us. Or, to be more precise, his helmet faced me, then Reggie, then back to me. He hadn’t taken the damn thing off.
Not a word came from him. As if the contrast the rumbling of the beast he rode in on, he was exercising complete silence.
You’re making this harder for me.
I tried another question.
“What does Styx want from us?”
That elicited a response, if I could even call it that.
A tilt of his head, directed at me. His hand went to a pocket on the side of his leather jacket.
I waited, cautious.
It wasn’t a gun, or a knife. An envelope.
It could still have something dangerous inside.
He brought the envelope forward. To me.
There was a delay before I realized I was supposed to take it.
I took it.
I looked it over, flipping it around. Looking over my shoulder, Reggie was observing the envelope, too.
No markings. It was just paper, plain and white. I shook it, and felt weight redistribute inside. Something solid, thin.
I looked back up to the ferryman.
“I suppose you won’t tell me what this is?”
The lack of an answer was expected.
I had learned more about Styx, his gang, and his ferrymen as I sunk deeper into the gang side of things, deeper into the underworld. A neutral party in most respects, only in that they worked with every gang. Moving drugs, delivering supplies and messages, making sure everyone was playing by the rules. If our gang managed to grow, it would lead to us working with Styx’s Gang. It was a part of the process. It was how things worked.
But, we were still new, not established. Styx’s Gang had no business working with us yet. Which, with this ferryman being here, naturally begged a lot of questions.
And he doesn’t seem interested in answering any of them.
But I tried, regardless.
“Am I supposed to open this now?”
No answer. Of course.
Putting my other hand on the envelope, I pinched my fingers together. I breathed in, then out, slow.
“Take a step back,” I told Reggie. “Just to be safe.”
Reggie didn’t protest or question me. He took a step back.
No hesitation. I couldn’t show a sign of weakness.
I tore open the envelope.
Stuff fell out, I caught them out of the air, the shredded pieces of paper were lost in the process. They flew away, drafted by the wind, and I didn’t see the need to chase after them.
I got what I needed, however.
Four cards, split into sets of two. I flipped through each of them.
I saw Lawrence’s face. I saw mine. I did a double take.
I already had one. Though, it was as real to me as the sky being blue. Look it up, and the information on that card would appear. It was as legitimate as it needed to be. For my part, I believed the information on there to be true. I was not lying to myself, there.
This card, the one in my hand, was a fake. Only slight-
A couple of details hit me all at once.
The photo itself. Identical to the one used on my actual ID. The exact same. How did Styx even get access to that photo in the first place?
The last name. Wasn’t my last name.
I flipped to the card for Lawrence. I’d never seen his real card before, so I could only guess if his picture was the same. Probably was.
I read the name.
Lawrence Vazquez. Wasn’t his last name.
The fuck is this?
I turned my attention back to the ferryman.
“The fuck is this?” I asked.
I actually got something this time.
It was another gesture, though. The ferryman raised his hand to point.
The other set of cards.
I rearranged the cards to get a better look at them.
White. Black stripes at the bottom of one side. An arrow. The logo and name and number on the other side helped in piecing things together.
They were keys for a hotel room. Keys for the Lunar Tower.
My attention went back to the the ferryman, a curious expression on my face. Not confusion, but curiosity, I had an idea of where this was going.
“Why?” I asked, already knowing it would be useless. “Why are you giving this to me? Why is Styx helping us?”
Or, is he setting us up?
Nothing. He was starting to piss me off.
Could I beat the information out of him? Until he answered in squeals? It was possible, and I wouldn’t be above doing that, if it was absolutely necessary.
Possible, but not viable. If this gang were to continue and grow, we had to establish a decent working relation with Styx and his gang, and bringing harm to one of his own was a great way to have that not happen.
I couldn’t touch the ferryman, and he knew it. He could push me as far as he wanted, with no repercussions, not unless I wanted to ruin my own gang.
I didn’t want that. We had a good thing going.
A metallic clang, a distance away. We all turned in the direction of the noise.
A man, standing by one of the long trailers. Dressed like a trucker. He had a panicked look on his face.
A civilian, who had walked in on something he had no reason being around. Unsure if he should run, or if he even could.
With a hard jerk of his body, he decided to run. He disappeared behind the long trailer.
A small distraction. We returned to the business at hand.
“Thanks,” I said, putting the cards away. “We’ve got it from here. Tell Styx he doesn’t have to worry about us. We’ll prove our worth.”
The ferryman bowed his head. The most movement I’d ever seen from him.
He brought himself back up, and turned to go. I took that as my sign to leave, too. Had to wrap things up early after getting interrupted. That trucker might come back with other, even more unwanted guests.
Reggie and I returned to the van, the ideas starting to solidify.
I didn’t like the conclusions I was coming to.
“Shit,” I said, “Shit.”
“What did he want?” Tone asked. He was sitting back in his seat, now, next to me. Sarah was leaned back as well, the seat reclined. Her eyes were closed.
She was breathing, I could tell that much, and she didn’t appear to be in pain. I chalked it up to her just resting.
Reggie started up the van again as I talked.
“I think… This isn’t just between us and the People’s Hammer. Not anymore.”
“Styx’s Gang literally gave us the keys to go straight to Granon. Considering how well connected they are, there’s a chance that there might be other eyes on us, now, other parties interested in how this unfolds.”
“You really think so?” Reggie asked.
I stuffed the cards into a pocket of my hoodie, switching them out for my phone.
“It’s one possibility. I’ll admit that it’s just a guess. What this does mean is that we’re in a fight that we can not lose.”
“As if we were going to lose at all,” Tone said. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“You’re right,” I said, nodding.
But this does make it complicated.
I dialed my phone, bringing it to my ear.
No answer from D.
I had a sneaking suspicion, that D had something to do with this. And I was only able to consider that connection, because this wasn’t the first time a similar set of circumstances occurred.
That night, it felt so long ago. The night we burned down East Stephenville to find Benny. Another ferryman had made an appearance while I was making my way back to the restaurant, square one. That ferryman had made the same symbol too. Victory.
I would have questioned it more if things weren’t so hectic, if we weren’t in a rush to get Benny back. Now, it was starting to be a more pertinent issue. Not as pressing as Granon, but with these cards in my possession, I couldn’t just let it go, anymore.
Dial tone. She still wasn’t picking up.
D goes missing, and a few hours later we get a visit from Styx’s Gang, giving us access to where Granon is staying. And only one person could possibly get a hold of my ID. Hell, she was the person who made my new one.
I was starting understand Lawrence’s paranoia towards D.
I put my phone down, flipping through the address book to find Lawrence. I’d have to call him about this.
My finger was over his name, ready to call.
I put my phone away.
I’d give him an hour. Spare him the immediate stress.
It would help me, too. Instructions weren’t included in that envelope. Styx gave us the cards, but wasn’t going to tell us how to play them. That was for us to figure out.
An hour. I’d take an hour to think and plan on my own. Then I’d let Lawrence in the know.
And then I’ll find D and strangle her for not letting us in the know.
The door swung wide. I let Lawrence go first.
“Dammit, it’s gorgeous,” Lawrence said.
“I hate that I keep agreeing with you,” I said.
The room did look amazing. Better to call it a suite, in all honesty. Or maybe something even sweeter than that.
Not curtains, but drapes. Not just lamps, but candelabras, and another goddamn chandelier. The suite could be defined by having everything a normal room would have, but better. Fancier. Gaudier.
A blue and gold color palette gave the room a lax but extravagant feel. Unwinding in style. The couches and chairs had cushions that looked more fluffy than pillows, patterns of flowers on the walls and furniture gave everything a softer, natural touch. Silver grooves and engravings, to give just an extra dash of extravagance.
Otherworldly, almost. Surreal, in just how out of place I felt. This felt like a room for royalty. On the board, I was the queen, but being here stretched that definition.
“They even have a chessboard here,” I said, pointing it out on the long, rounded table, with leather legs and raised gold dots at the edges. “And it’s made of glass.”
“So what?” Lawrence asked, walking more into the room, bringing his luggage with him. “We don’t have time for games.”
I shot a look at him, but his back was to me. I grabbed my bag and entered the suite.
“I know that, I was just thinking along those lines and I just saw it and I wanted to… You know what? Never mind.”
The board isn’t even set up properly.
I passed Lawrence, who had elected to fall into one of the couches, groaning as he went down. Every bit of movement must have ached, for him.
For me, I was just happy to be out of the lobby, and out of sight. I couldn’t get that lady’s face out of my head. How she watched as I tried to act like I belonged. If this institution really had a reputation of being a neutral ground for gangs, then she probably saw right through me.
Fuck me, this is why I wear a mask.
I headed to the double doors in the back of the suite. Wooden, but with gold wrapping around the edges of the frame like vines.
Had to be here.
I pushed the doors open. I blinked, an eyebrow raised. I blinked again.
“What?” Lawrence asked, from behind.
For a second, I was lost on what to specify.
Keep it simple.
“There’s only one bed,” I said.
I heard a rush of pillows and bags and chairs being knocked over.
Lawrence rushed past me, into the bedroom.
He groaned, probably both from the pain he was still recovering from, and the most recent discovery of this strange, strange situation we had found ourselves in.
The bedroom was its own section of the suite, but it was no less impressive.
It matched with the rest of the suite with its aesthetics, blue and gold, fancy light and decorations. And the bed itself was the crown jewel.
Framed by drapes, with a renaissance-style painting right above the head of the bed, mounted on the wall. The plant and flower motif continued in here, too, painted vines twisting along the wall and the side of the bed, smooth lines flowing around in an almost random fashion, like how I’d imagine actual plants to grow when left on their own. No one pattern or design was repeated, but nothing clashed or hurt the eyes. It was all so… relaxing.
Relaxing, yet somehow a slap in the face.
Something was waiting for us on the bed.
An oversized teddy bear, placed between the pillows. It was holding a box, shaped into a heart, probably filled with chocolates.
That confirmed my suspicions.
Still a slap in the face, though.
Only one bed, and there was only one night on the reservation. We had until we checked out at noon tomorrow to finish this.
Those were the rules of this game.
It did make things easier, in a sense. Having a deadline snap at the heels had a tendency to make a person run faster.
“This is a joke right?” Lawrence asked, summarizing my own thoughts. “This has to be a joke.”
“It most definitely is,” I said, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. “In a strange way, we can probably take comfort in that. The fake IDs, giving us the same fake surname, the fact that it starts with a ‘V,’ the single bed, even the chessboard and… the fucking teddy bear. This has her style written all over it.”
“Her…” Lawrence said, seething, the word sliding between gritted teeth.
“D,” I said, finishing his thought for him.
I saw Lawrence twitch, his head jerking around, as if looking for a fly that buzzing around him, or avoiding the gaze of the stuffed animal.
“You think she’s here?” he asked, gaze still darting, “Listening in on us?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, though I couldn’t help but wonder, despite myself. “Just think of this as another one of her pranks.”
“Pranks, right.” He trudged over to the bed, putting a hand on it for balance. “As if I needed to be pranked by her again. I thought that shit was behind me, now.”
With a sudden motion, he pushed the teddy bear out of the way and over the other side. He fell onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Another chandelier.
“Shows just how much I know,” he said, breathing out, barely audible. “I can hear her laughing, somewhere. It’s echoing. Constant. Ha, ha. Ha.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t get so worked up over it,” I said. “Wherever she is, she’s just trying to help. It just so happens that she has a very particular idea of what ‘help’ means.”
“Did it have to be like this, though?”
I took my shoulder off the frame, moving to get my bag out of the way of the door. “Like I said, stressing out over it isn’t going to benefit you any. You’ll never be able to get any rest, doing that. Just… you can take the bed.”
Lawrence sat right up, but he couldn’t stifle an aching groan.
“I’m not about to share it with you. I can take the couch or floor or whatever, if we even get time to sleep.”
I was moving as I talked, setting my bag next to the couch. I didn’t bring a lot with me, I didn’t even have a lot to bring. An extra set of clothes, the necessities like a toothbrush and comb, my glasses case, and my costume… In case it would ever come to that. A small part of me hoped it wouldn’t have to come to that.
Though, would bringing it mean that I was expecting to wear it?
I nudged the bag, letting it roll an inch or two away.
I told myself that I would bring it as a precaution, but using it would probably make things worse. Not just for us and the People’s Hammer, but for everyone. And nothing good could be salvaged from that.
Maybe I brought it for security? That I had something to fall back to if this goes south?
I knew I was out of my element, here. I couldn’t resort to my old tricks, I couldn’t fall on old habits. Had to draw upon other stuff. Stuff I normally lacked.
I couldn’t doubt myself.
I opened my bag.
“I think I’ll head out,” I said, digging through my luggage. “Take a look around. Get a better sense of the building, and see where else it earns its five stars.”
Lawrence replied, shouting from the bedroom. He still sounded far away.
“Are you sure?”
No, but what choice do I have?
“Yes,” I said. “Though, actually, I would have you come with me, but the last thing I want is for you to bump into Granon. We know he’s staying somewhere here, but we don’t know where, exactly. They didn’t exactly make this easy on us.”
“They led us right to him, but bringing us here, where so many representatives of other gangs stay and rub shoulders… If we get into a fight, that’s not going to present the right image to everyone else.”
I nodded, saying, “It’s pretty much forcing us to try and cut a deal with Granon. Not a lot of elbow room to start swinging.”
“But Granon already tried to cut a deal with us, and we said no. How is it going to look if we go back on that?”
“Not good, but remember, the same thing applies to him. If he wants a spot in this city, he can’t make a mess of this place.”
There was a moment’s pause. The only thing I heard from Lawrence’s end of the room were bedsheets being tossed around.
“Do you want to cut a deal with Granon?” Lawrence asked, settling back in.
I was going to do my thinking aloud. “I don’t. Not if it means him being in our territory. The blockade alone was enough to show that he doesn’t care about the place or the people. The only thing he cares about is the growth of his own gang, and that means having a hold in this city, one way or another. He couldn’t get it through Mister, his proposal was rejected by his secretary, and I’m thinking there might be a reason why.”
“Like how we’re controlling what products are being sold in our territory? Tailoring our clientele?
“Something like that. Considering how little we interacted with Granon, and how volatile he proved to be in that short amount of time, if we didn’t want him, then the higher ups that run this city probably don’t want him, too.”
“We’re thinking like the big guys,” Lawrence commented. “I’m not sure if I should be happy about that or not.”
I found my knife, and stuffed it in a pocket on my side. I had enough room.
“It means,” I said, getting up, “That we have what it takes to be one of the higher ups, one day. The big guys. With Granon, the People’s Hammer does not. And that’s why we’ll be the ones to stop them from swinging. Remove any nails they might have.”
“Um, is that you being literal or what?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Okay,” Lawrence said, and I could hear him trying to get up from the bed, and then succeed after another try. “Hold on.”
I was standing back up, too, stretching my back, feeling and hearing it pop. Lawrence was walking out of the bedroom, meeting me by the couch.
“What is it now?” I asked. I was itching to get out and do something, even if it meant going through the lobby again, being out of my element.
Lawrence jammed his hands into his pockets, looking at me, but not making eye contact.
“I’m sure I’ve made it clear by now, but in case you haven’t caught on… I don’t like this, any of this. I don’t like how Granon is trying to muscle in, I don’t like how D is missing, I don’t like how convenient it is that a fucking ferryman gives you the keys to the Lunar, and I especially don’t like how I’m included in this shit. I don’t know what me being here even accomplishes. I mean, no one’s watching the territory. Fuck, I’m useless, here.”
If I was doing an okay job at hiding my anxiety about everything, then Lawrence was on the opposite end of the spectrum. He knew what him being here would – and did – accomplish, and he knew he wasn’t useless. He still felt the need to say that, regardless.
And I had to settle him down. It would better settle me down, too.
“Did you see the lady at the front desk? She would have snuffed me out in an instant if I tried to come in by myself, even if I had a reservation. I just don’t fit in with this kind of scene, or at least, I’m not used to it yet. Not used to having a lot of money or interacting with those who do. Nouveau riche, I guess you can say.”
I pointed a finger, setting it on Lawrence’s chest.
“You, from what I’ve seen with Granon and the lady, can act the part of a poised gangster. I’m… not quite there. You’re the face of the organization, I’m just the muscle. We each have a part to play. You had yours, and now it’s my turn.”
I flicked my finger. A gentle movement, from my perspective, but it was enough to knock him on his ass. He landed on the couch.
“So take a damn break. I can tell you’re still hurting from Granon’s beatdown, yesterday. I’ve got it from here. And about the territory, I trust that Reggie and Tone can keep things together for a night. And… As for D, and how Styx fits in this, let’s just take the convenience as it is, and we can move on to that after we’re through with the People’s Hammer.”
Lawrence adjusted his posture on the couch, getting himself in a better position.
“I guess a full twenty-four hours is too much to ask.”
I smiled. Slight, sympathetic.
Turning, I moved to leave the suite.
Lawrence called out. “You have your knife? Keys? Phone?”
“I do,” I answered. All three were in the pockets of my jacket. A dark blazer, a white buttoned shirt under that, and a dark skirt and dress shoes. They were the only pieces in my closet that wouldn’t put me out of place with the other guests and staff of this hotel. Coupled with the makeup, I never felt so awkward.
I could imagine Alexis wearing this outfit like a second skin. Me? Not so much. It was another costume.
“You have your wallet?”
I stopped at the door.
“I… do, why?”
“Get me something to eat. I want to taste that fifth star, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ll see what they have,” I said.
“And get yourself something while you’re at it. I’ve been meaning to bring it up for a while, now, but I haven’t seen you take a bite of anything, ever.”
Calling me out directly, was he?
“I can’t eat,” I said, turning the knob. “A drawback of my powers.”
“You can’t eat? Then what-”
“Good night, Lawrence,” I said, firm, opening the door. “Stay inside and rest. Call me if you need anything, or I’ll call you.”
I shut the door before Lawrence could reply.
Finally, I thought.
I was standing out in the hall. A warm glow from the lights above, a soft carpet with a constellation and moon imagery, and so many doors I almost felt dizzy. I had the key to the room, so I couldn’t get lost. Floor forty, fourth room. I’d never been in a building with so many floors, before.
And in one of these many floors, was Granon, and so many other gangs. Like looking for a needle in a needlestack. I couldn’t get myself, and by proxy, my gang, be riddled with holes as I search for him.
No big deal.
And, I couldn’t punch him when I see him.
Hands in my pocket, I started walking, heading to the elevators.
A lot of work, running a gang. And with how hard it was getting, I hoped that meant we were finally moving up in the world.