“Old-fashioned? Where are you learning those big words?”
“Mama says princesses are so old-fashioned because they don’t know how to shoot and fight, and if there was a princess today she would just have to rescue herself.”
“Your mama is smart like that. She’s absolutely right. So, what does old-fashioned mean?”
“It means that you can’t use things that you can fit in your hand like phones and weapons and things.”
Hale and Jess shared a stifled laugh as he picked up Eddie and walked inside. Jess looked positively statuesque in a thin pencil skirt, lengthening her moderate frame. She was the same height as Janie.
“Help yourself to the coffee or anything else in the kitchen,” she said, a slight smile still on her face as she kept the door open. “Hope we’ll be seeing you more often.” She wasn’t sticking around, apparently. She left the apartment, and Hale locked the door behind her.
“How about breakfast? Your mama make you anything yet? You aren’t gonna spit eggs at me again, are you?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “That was so funny. Mama made porridge, like in the story with the bears.”
Ahhh. The cornmeal staple. As smartly as they dressed, it was nice to know they ate like regular people sometimes, and his daughter wouldn’t be too good for him someday. “Maybe I’ll have some of that. It’s the breakfast of champions, you know.”
“It’s okay, I guess. Daddy says it makes you strong and healthy. You can eat mine too. Will you get sick again?”
“Oh, I suppose so, but I’ll get better like I did this time. Just like if you get sick, you’ll get better. That’s called good genes, and you and I have the same good genes.”
“And Mama and Daddy too?”
Woah. He’d almost slipped up, although she was still too young to make the connection that he’d just referred to her as his daughter. “And Mama and Daddy too, sweetheart. You got nothin’ to worry about.”
All through breakfast, Hale did his best to keep up with her chatter, loving every minute of it. He found himself having to remind her to eat so they wouldn’t be late for school. All too quickly the hour was up and it was time to go. He felt like he hadn’t had enough time yet.
“Go get your backpack, Baby Doll. Don’t wanna be late for school.”
“Okay, but oh! I have the pictures from the story, and Mama put them on my backpack so I wouldn’t forget because I made them for you.”
She ran off, and when she returned, she was wearing her backpack and carried a short stack of hand-drawn pictures. She eagerly offered him her works of art.
He held them like they were precious, feeling the pressure in his chest and tightness in his cheeks that meant he was holding in his emotions. He paged through them, admiring her work, recognizing in pencil and crayon the stories she had been telling him over the last couple weeks.
“Boy, Eddie. These sure are pretty. I’m gonna hang them in my new place, and I’m gonna look at them every day and think of you. I hope you draw me lots more too, because I don’t have anything on the walls. I miss my view, and you know what? With these hanging up, I won’t miss it so much anymore.”
He hugged her deeply, holding her an extra moment. Who cared if they were late for school?
Finally releasing her, he split the pictures into two small stacks and folded them carefully. It was a shame to fold them, really, but there was nothing to do but pocket them in his leather jacket for the ride home. In one pocket, though, he felt a little resistance. Did he leave something he’d forgotten about?
Pulling it out, he was surprised to find a condom wrapper. No—not just a wrapper. The condom was inside. Along with the condom package was a small separate piece of paper. He didn’t recognize the handwriting. It certainly wasn’t his own. It said simply: Look here.
Look where? He checked his pockets for more but found nothing, so he examined the condom wrapper. On it was printed a picture of a lighthouse logo with the stamp, Lighthouse Condoms, Milwaukee, WI.
Hale’s heart quickened. Look for what? He’d only been looking for one thing. In fact, the last couple weeks had been consumed with it, his emotions ruled by it. The excitement was a balloon expanding in his chest.
The Night Visitor.
But how? And what the hell? His mind wanted to deny it. It wasn’t logical. But someone had put this in his pocket. It didn’t come from him. What else could it refer to?
“Are you getting sick again?” Eddie looked up at him with frightened eyes.
“No, no, darlin’. I was just thinking about those pictures and keeping ’em safe in my pockets. I was thinkin’ about where I was gonna hang each one.” He smiled down at her. “C’mon, let’s get you to school. Don’t want to be late!”
Moments ago he had been dreading the sadness of saying good-bye. Now, as much as he loved her, he couldn’t get to school fast enough.
He almost didn’t dare hope, but regardless, mere minutes from now, he planned to be on his bike riding fast to Milwaukee.
ON THE road with the cool air whipping past, Hale racked his brain. There were only two ways that paper had made its way into his pocket.
The first was Wilma. She had time the other night to slip the paper into his jacket pocket. Hale’s eyes had been closed; he wouldn’t have seen her do it. He’d never mentioned anything about trying to find someone though—unless she was the “friend” who had broken Benz’s fingers. It was possible someone could have paid her to transfer the note—or just asked her. Maybe she knew more than she let on. She had definitely known Hale was thinking about someone else. She also made it her business to know things. She had known who he was, known his name, and come to think of it, Hale had never even told her which apartment was his.
The second way had taken some figuring. He remembered a guy running into him the night he had ridden his bike. He could barely remember any details about the stranger, though. Hale hadn’t seen his face, and he’d been too pissed off to commit much to memory. Something could have been slipped into his pocket at that time. Maybe Benz’s inquiry had actually paid off. Maybe whoever it was had found a way to get Hale the information without ever involving Benz.
Benz might be able to shed more light on the situation, but Hale wasn’t going to tell him yet. Something weird was going on, and while Hale hoped he was on the right track, this might not be about the Night Visitor at all. But then, what was it?
A trap? That was unlikely. A quick web search on his phone informed him the condom company was legit, which he knew from his own personal experience with the brand. He had the location of the business. It seemed ridiculous that someone who wanted to get the jump on him for whatever reason would send him to a condom company.
He motored past the seemingly abandoned air defense systems that surrounded the city of Chicago. Still operational but certainly out of use, the structures reminded him of a boneyard. In contrast to his surroundings, Hale felt alive. Hopeful. For most of the remaining ninety minutes it took him to make the trip, he continued to hope. He hoped this was what he thought it was. He hoped this was the lead he had been looking for. He hoped this led him to the kid. And once he met him, he hoped… for what, exactly? The fantasies he’d been harboring were unrealistic, to say the least. He’d have to let those go. But he could make sure the guy was okay and get information about what was going on. He could satisfy his own curiosity, perhaps make an ally. Even adjusting his expectations, he found plenty to hope for.
Hale wasn’t naïve enough to think he was just going to show up and spot the Night Visitor. This might take time. Since he didn’t feel much like doing a stakeout of the place in broad daylight, he figured the best way to get information would be to make himself a part of things. He was going to ask for a job. If that didn’t pan out, well… he’d think of something.
When he finally arrived at his destination, the nerves set in. Funny—he didn’t get this nervous before a fight.
Lighthouse Condoms was located in a warehouse distr
ict south of the high-rises of downtown Milwaukee. It wasn’t the only manufacturing industry around. A number of them were in this area, all of them looking somewhat similar. Glancing to the skies, Hale saw several machines angling through different trajectories, at different altitudes. This area was patrolled by both MPD and private drones, making a stakeout nearly impossible.
Hale didn’t see a business sign, but GPS said the location was correct. The building in front of him was made of Cream City brick, darkened with age to an almost black color. It was four stories, boxy and rectangular. The windows on the bottom floor had been filled in, indicating most of the business was located on the second floor and above. On one end of the building was an open garage. He angled his bike in that direction.
He saw no one. It was close to eleven o’clock, so it made sense that everyone would be inside working. He parked his bike to the side of the garage. At places like this, the entrances weren’t exactly well marked, and Hale saw no sign of a welcome mat. He decided to take the door nearest the garage, waving to the camera he saw stationed above the entrance. Nothing wrong with being friendly and making a good first impression. As he reached for the door, he heard a click. It opened. So someone was watching the camera, then.
Walking in, he was surrounded by shelving and storage bins in a relatively high, open space. He saw no sign of people. At the end of the room was a freight elevator likely connected to the garage, as well as a stairway. Hale took the stairs.
Arriving at what must have been the third floor, Hale found himself in a typical office area. Anything but typical was the gorgeous tan-kissed woman with big brown eyes staring daggers into him. She stood as though she expected him. Hale put on his warmest smile. This was, after all, a job interview.
“Hi. Name’s Hale. I’ve come to inquire about a job.” His voice gave no hint of his nerves.
The woman eyed him skeptically. He extended his hand, but she stood with her arms crossed and made no attempt to shake it. He withdrew it, keeping a smile on his face. This was not the effect he usually had on women—except for Jess. He had no doubt her crossed arms put her in reach of a gun.
“Who sent you?” the woman asked after a pause. She tucked her short dark hair behind an ear as she lifted her chin, extending her height into something more formidable. She was dressed casually, but the way her clothes fit, she obviously knew she was gorgeous. She stood tall with her chest out, looking him directly in his eyes. It was a challenge.
“No one sent me. I’m an honest man looking for work. I’m relocating from Chicago.”
“Why would you come here from Chicago?”
“I’m trying to save money. I have a daughter I need to support.”
He hadn’t intended to play the daughter card. Hell, he hadn’t planned what he was gonna say at all. Apparently, though, he said the right thing, because she relaxed and nodded.
“As far as I know we aren’t hiring, but I’ll let you talk to the boss. Wait here a minute.”
She disappeared through a doorway at the far end of the room. Hale spent the next moments looking around, trying to get a read on the place and looking for anything to give him an advantage or an in with these people. He was scouting it like an Arena. Unfortunately, aside from the desk where he saw a laptop and some invoices and notes with numbers, the room was pretty bare. Numbers weren’t really his strongpoint either.
After a couple minutes, the woman returned with the man who must be the boss. He struck Hale as being very average. He was a black man, a little shorter than Hale and overweight, past middle age with only a trace of gray in his beard. Hale was pleased to see the boss was dressed very casually, as Hale wasn’t exactly dressed to impress in his leather jacket and jeans. The boss man wore a completely neutral expression, and as he walked forward, Hale extended his hand.
“Gin tells me you’ve come looking for work,” the man said, shaking his hand.
“Yes, sir. My name’s Hale.”
“Ray. I run this place.”
“I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”
“Ginny says you have a daughter?”
“Yes, sir, that’s right.”
“And is that your bike outside?”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“Nice bike.”
“Thanks. After my little girl, she’s my greatest joy.”
“We have a certain fondness for Harleys in this city.”
“Do you ride?”
“From time to time, though I don’t have one of my own.”
If this was the job interview, he wasn’t doing so badly.
The man studied him for a while without speaking. “Can you drive a truck?” he asked after the pause.
“I can drive most anything. Driving is what I like to do best.” Actually he’d never driven a truck before, but how hard could it be? He hoped his answer wasn’t so vague as to make that obvious. Maybe he should have outright lied.
Ray paused again. Hale sensed he was coming to a decision and had the sudden urge to cross his fingers.
The man nodded. “Okay. This is what I can offer you. We have one driver already, but he’s been laid up for a bit. You can fill in for him when he’s not able to work. I can also offer you part-time routes of your own in one of our smaller vehicles. It won’t be full-time work, at least not to start. But if this works out and something else opens up, you’re welcome to stay on.”
Hale smiled, relieved. “Thank you, sir. That sounds fine.”
“Don’t call me sir, call me Ray. Is part-time work gonna be enough for you with a little girl?” Ray raised his eyebrow at him, and Hale suddenly got nervous. Was this a trick question? A test to see if he was lying? He decided to go with as much truth as possible.
“My girl, she lives with my wife’s family. So….” Hale became silent, unsure of what to say.
Ray nodded, seeming to respect that Hale was uncomfortable. “So you’re married?”
“No,” Hale said. “She’s passed away some time ago now.”
The woman, Gin, who had been watching him this whole time, nodded at that. Hale felt like he had passed the test.
“Come back tomorrow around seven in the morning. I’ll have you train with our driver for a couple weeks. That’ll be solid work. After that I’ll train you in other positions too. Between filling in here and there, I suppose we’ll be able to get you near close to full-time work. The pay won’t be great to start, but after a couple months, it’ll be a livable wage.”
“I appreciate that, sir… I mean, Ray. Thanks. Thanks a lot.” Hale shook his hand again enthusiastically, giving Ray a genuine smile.
“Ma’am,” he said, nodding to the woman and extending his hand again toward her. “I appreciate the opportunity.”
She eyed his hand before extending her own. That was more like it. Her handshake was stronger than Ray’s. “You can call me Gin,” she said. “I’ll talk to the other driver, and we’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Hale didn’t miss her gaze leaving his eyes to travel down his body. She was checking him out, sure enough. He smiled knowingly at her. He would take any advantage he could get. “See you tomorrow,” he agreed, before turning and leaving.
The smile stayed plastered on his face all the way back to Chicago. He didn’t even attempt to hold his fantasies in check.
This had to be it. Hale couldn’t fucking wait for tomorrow.
Chapter 18
JUSTIN STOPPED pacing and leaned against the truck. He looked up the empty road. Where was this guy? True, it wasn’t even seven yet. He needed to stop being negative. Think of the positive. Yes, he could use the extra help catching up with the deliveries. Yes, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty if he ever found himself unable to work for a while—not that he would ever lose a Fray again. Yes, Gin had said she got a good vibe from the guy, and she was a pretty damn good judge of character. Yes to all of this, but still….
Mr. Mays had told him to look for a friend, and wasn’t it convenient this opportunit
y should suddenly arise after that conversation? Was the universe trying to tell him something? If so, then maybe the universe would be kind enough to also tell him what the hell he was supposed to talk about while he was trapped in the truck with this guy ticking off the miles for the next two weeks. He’d tried to come up with a list of conversation topics since last night, but he had nothing to talk about.
He trained. He fought. He worked. That’s it. He couldn’t exactly talk about the fighting, and therefore couldn’t exactly talk about training. That left work. He drove a truck, and the guy already knew that. Oh—and he watched cartoons with his little brother, but that wasn’t exactly a topic of great interest to anyone over thirteen. He had his family, but he really didn’t care to talk about them. That was personal.
They could talk about their respective ideas about why the world was the way it was, what had happened to the ground, but that was like talking about the weather. He could bring up completely random facts gleaned from Internet self-education or talk about things he read. All in all he had a solid twenty minutes of conversation. Or approximately one-two hundred fortieth of the time he needed to fill. He’d done the math.
He had a sneaking suspicion he’d end up talking about all of the girls he’d fucked. That’s what guys liked to talk about, right? And what was he supposed to say? Yeah, my sister brings her girlfriends over for me to have sex with because they know I’m a safe lay. He was sure he screwed more women than most men, and yet when he racked his brain to single out one who was particularly memorable, nothing came to mind. They were all just fine. It was a way to get off, to think about something else for a short time. Nothing meaningful had ever come of it. Justin wasn’t interested, didn’t have room for it in his life.
Still, it was something. He could look forward to two weeks of talking about his sexual conquests. What a strange word—conquests. If anything, they were more like agreeable business arrangements. Or—Justin smiled to himself—maybe he was the trophy. He had a good body, so he was a catch, at least from the neck down. Plus he liked to be on the bottom with the woman riding him. It was less work, and the whole point was to relax a bit, wasn’t it? So how many of those women had gone on to talk about him like he was the object of their conquest? It would certainly make for a better story from that perspective.
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