by T. C. Clover
Hector?” Stoney challenged with a serious gaze, taking a swig from his coffee.
“What are we gonna’ do about Mitch?” CKB fired back with an expression of regret, wishing that he hadn’t shared the name of his employer. “Stoney, I’ve got a plan to get this out of our ball court, but we’ll have to bend a few rules. All you’ve gotta' do is tell Hector that he can come and get the video at the subway station.”
“Which subway station?” Stoney coerced his companion with interest, leaning closer to hear the details.
“Any subway station that he wants outside of The Templars' territory,” CKB projected with pride. “I want him to feel comfortable. He needs to think that he’s in control.”
The Shots Fired Loft – Manhattan, New York
“You're so bad,” Litz flirted with Richard as she sat beside him on the comfy living room sofa. “I’m not changing my company name to Great Raccoon Plumbing,” she said with a warm smile and massaged her injured right eye with self-conscious tendencies. "Besides, everyone loves Great Rack Plumbing; even some of the ladies."
The video editor smiled at her like an adoring puppy. He wore a white dress shirt and black slacks, both pressed into perfect form by the wardrobe people. The television staff had chosen a similar white blouse and a long orange sundress for the plumber. It had taken most of the morning to get her blonde hair pulled up in a bun with what they called the bangs of a baroness. She also had to spend extra time in the makeup chair to cover the wounds on her face.
Fassim sat opposite the doting couple on one of the barstools. She felt uncomfortable and out of place on the wooden seat, and hated that Litz and Richard were holding hands. Every cute moment that they shared was like an overheated grill, leaving black marks on her soul. She sensed turbulent emotions that caused her stomach to build up with volcanic guilt. The incensed woman wondered if anyone else had to fight back a smile when they heard about Litz getting served with some karma. She recalled Jennifer Priest giving the news to all of the cast members and having to fake a look of shock. Fassim knew that it was wrong for her to wish that Litz was out of the picture, but she had no desire to lose Richard to Bathsheba.
The paparazzi photographer sought refuge in Jazzy at her right, but she also wanted to pull the lime green headscarf down over her face in embarrassment. Unfortunately, her comedian friend seemed supportive and intrigued by the romance between Richard and Litz.
Jazzy watched the odd couple indulge in a small breakfast of bagels and fresh fruit with the foolish expressions you might see on great apes in a small cage. The comedian was wearing a red scarf with a tan blazer, making her seem like a tourist among the other New Yorkers. Her matching skirt and blue high heels made her appear out of place, and Fassim had detested the wasted photo opportunity.
It took a moment for the Muslim to quell her anxiety, and she gazed down at her body with dissatisfaction. Fassim had selected a pair of white dress pants and black high heels to help her get more attention from men. At the suggestion of her mother, Fassim had bought a light blue button-down blouse. It was a traditional garment with large marble-colored buttons, but somehow it made her feel inadequate. The envious woman glared at Litz and her perfect breasts; endowments that many women weren't fortunate enough to share. She thought of them as fruits that were overripe and hoped that they would begin to sag when the plumber hit her thirties. The photographer had recent memories of Jazzy’s somewhat saggy breasts, which made her smile, and she took a moment to envision what older breasts would look like on Litz.
“Okay, let’s call for a commercial break,” Mike stated from off camera as he stepped onto the shag carpet of the living room set. “Fassim, you can’t be daydreaming while we’re shooting an important story like this,” he protested with a gentle shake of his head. “Jazzy just poured her heart out to everyone, and then we turn the camera to you, and you’re in another damn world.”
Mike had thick stubble, and his hair was out of place, with subtle streaks of gray all over. He seemed to have thrown his outfit together without thinking for the first time in weeks. His muscular, tan legs were showing underneath a pair of black running shorts that went to his knees. The black, long-sleeve mock that adorned his abdomen illustrated that he had given up wearing suits for the immediate future.
“Well, what about you, Mike?” Jazzy scorned the director with flared nostrils. “When Litz came back from the hospital, all you could say was, ‘It looks like you survived.’ You’re like the greatest prick on the east coast. Do you have feelings, or are you waiting for a new shipment from orange-cream-stick?”
“Jazzy, I’m not here to live life to your standards,” Mike retorted with a tired gaze and grabbed at his hair. “The studio provided Litz with security and she got into a bad situation. And if I recall, you were one of the people who complained about the security escorts. So how about saving that passion for when we’re on camera?” He proposed with a roll of his eyes.
Jazzy bit the center of her lip and stared at the floor as if to summon a mighty earthquake. She let her disapproval be heard in a deep sigh and turned her body away from the director.
“Hey, I came over here to give you some bad news, but I’m not sure if some of you can handle it,” Mike stated with an irritable expression. “Look, I’m not great at sugarcoating this kind of thing, so I’ll just get it out. The space shuttle was on its return flight from the moon, and it exploded due to a malfunction. There was a bunch of debris found in Greenland, and it matches up with the one that went out. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Oh my God! Litz, I’m so sorry,” Jazzy reacted aloud in a soft voice. “I know that Jason-“
Litz closed her eyes and clutched her stomach with her right hand. She hadn’t felt such pain and sickness since the roller coaster ride with her mother. The plumber started to shed tears, covering her face with her left hand.
“I told him,” the heartbroken diva stated with a voice choked by agony. “I told him not to go on that mission. But then I saw his wife and kid in the car, and I didn’t care anymore.” Her hands began to tremble, and she leaned forward to hide her face from everyone.
“I’m sure it was a quick death,” Richard offered with a delicate gaze of empathy. “It was probably one of the better ways to go – crushing pressure and insane heat.”
“You always know,” Litz berated Richard as she raised her head and glared at him with raw hatred, “exactly the wrong things to say. You want me to be grateful that he burned up in an instant because you’re jealous that he was inside of me? Well too bad, Richard, I had feelings for him, and it’s something you’ll have to deal with.” She lowered her gaze and stared at the video editor like a lioness on the prairie. “In fact, when he was inside of me, I felt much more like a woman.”
Jazzy and Fassim turned to look at one another with their eyebrows raised and mouths open. Litz stood up from the sofa and leered at Richard with the entitled body language of a conquering emperor. She then turned and walked out of the room without looking at anyone else.
Fassim got up from her chair and walked over to sit beside Richard, which caused Jazzy to shoot her an insubordinate gaze. The comedian became more disturbed when the paparazzi photographer placed her hand on Richard’s right knee.
“Why does this happen when we’re in a commercial break?” Mike jested as he made an about-face turn and walked off the set.
Subway Platform – Brooklyn, New York
CKB watched the stairs for incoming foot traffic from his position on the subway platform. He had guessed that Hector would pick the first stop outside of his territory to make the exchange, and knew the man wanted this affair kept close to his chest. His hands shook with anticipation and paranoia was beginning to get the better of him. There were a lot of entrances and exits in this public arena, and he knew that The Templars could be upon him in s
econds.
He gripped the back of his neck with his right hand and began to massage the deep tissues. The strength of his hands was encouraging, despite the impending threat of death that could be coming around any corner. CKB knew that The Templars had no intention of letting him leave, regardless of how many copies of the video he provided to them.
Cody jumped multiple times and swung his arms to limber up for the exchange. He was careful not to dislodge a black pistol from beneath the waistband of his pants. The career criminal looked up at the stairs and spotted three Templars descending them to meet with him. He took in a lot of oxygen and tightened his muscles, mimicking a behavior he had seen whales exhibit before going hunting.
When the men got closer, Cody was unsurprised to see that Hector was not among them. They each wore a small patch of a red cross on their leather jackets – a sign of Templar membership. All three of the men were of Hispanic ethnicity, and two of them seemed somewhat subdued. The alpha emerged from the pack and stroked his spiked brown hair when he spotted CKB. This gang member had a tattoo of a shrieking mother on his right forearm, which was indicative of a higher rank.
“Yo, are you CKB?” The alpha asked when he got within ten feet of the black man.
CKB didn’t respond right away. He