by Izzy Mason
“There’s another client interested in working with you, by the way,” Devon calls over her shoulder as she heads back to her desk. “He left a message over night. He’s supposed to call back this afternoon.
I can’t help but grin. A client that specifically asked for me? “Why does he want me?” I ask. “Specifically, I mean.”
She shrugs. “Saw you on the news, probably.”
It’s silly, but I still get giddy remembering my interview on the local TV news. That kind of thing was a big deal where I come from. I smile again, but say nothing.
When I reach the restaurant, I freeze. A black town car is rolling up to the curb just across the street. Tinted windows and all. I feel all the hair on my neck stand up. Snap out of it, I tell myself. Nobody can know.
Inside, Travis and Liz are already seated and drinking pints.
“Don’t you people have jobs?” I ask with a laugh that sounds painfully phony.
“It’s good for morale,” Travis says with a wink. “Especially when you work for a nonprofit.”
“Almost everyone in my office is traveling today,” Liz says. “So what the hell!”
I’m not up for a beer. It’ll only bring me down, I know. So I order an iced tea. Travis and Liz smile goofily at me, as if there was something hilarious they were trying to keep a secret. It’s nice to see them together again, albeit as screwy as ever. Both look ridiculously happy.
“My God, how many drinks have you had?” I say jokingly.
Travis laughs. His eyes are twinkling like I’ve never seen. “Guess what, Mick?”
“What?”
He looks over at Liz and they both laugh now. What the hell is so funny?
“Liz and I are moving in together!”
I stare at him in disbelief. My old friend the cad and the bounder. Settling down with one woman? The world must be coming to an end.
“No way!”
“So way!” Travis beams.
I smile at them. and though I feel pangs of envy, I’m genuinely happy, too. “Well, hot damn. Congratulations!”
I slide out of my side of the booth and come around to give them each an awkward hug. The waitress shows up to take our order, so I sit down again. As we wait for our food, I listen to Travis and Liz gush happily about their plans. They’ve decided Liz will move in with Travis, since he lives alone, but since her stuff is nicer, they’ll dump most of his furniture and kitchenware and move hers in.
I start to wish I’d ordered a drink after all. When there’s a lull in the conversation at last, I just can’t resist.
“Liz, do you happen to know Celestina Marquez? The fashion model? She lives here in Denver?”
Liz is so giddy she doesn’t even care about the non sequitur. “Hm. Why does that name sound familiar…?” She squints out into space, thinking. “Oh, Marquez. We had clients who were involved in some business deal with them. Her family, that is.”
“Her family?”
“Yeah, the Marquez family. They’re better known in Las Vegas, really. Big money. They have properties all over the world. I think they’re originally from Mexico or something.”
“Venezuela,” I say quietly, trying to take in the information.
“If you say so. They’ve got a bad reputation. The deal my firm executed was pretty shady looking from the outside. But that’s capitalism, right?”
“Are you okay, Mick?” Travis asks. He looks concerned.
I force myself to snap out of it. Nothing I can do about it now, I tell myself. So I force a smile and take a sip of iced tea.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just distracted. Lots of work, you know.”
“Your new job!” Liz exclaims. “Yeah, it sounds so exciting! I hear you were even on TV last night!”
I nod. “That’s right. It was kind of silly.”
“Are you kidding?” Travis says, exasperated. “This is, like, the single most exciting thing that’s ever happened to you. I mean, talk about going from zero to sixty in record time. This girl just goes straight for the big top.”
Liz smiles. Even though I try to relax, my muscles are clenched and my breathing is shallow. I glance outside. The town car is still parked and waiting.
“That’s me,” I say with a stiff grin. “Living the dream.”
Chapter Four
I stare blankly at the computer screen until I can’t take it anymore. The town car is sitting outside of my office again, waiting to see where I’ll go. It’s like being in a moveable prison. My heart is racing all the time and it feels like there are invisible fingers constricting my throat.
For a while I consider just leaving town and changing my name, living the rest of my life incognito. But then I shake it off. I’m not running away. Not from my job. Not from my awesome apartment. Not from Lazarus. I just need a plan.
As I sit staring into space, something catches my eye. It’s a door I never paid much attention to. It’s an innocuous black door at the very back of the office. I get up and walk over to it as nonchalantly as I can. But no one notices. Nate is in his private office engrossed in a call, and Devon is in the small conference room Skyping with Chance.
I try to open the door, but the knob won’t turn. After looking more carefully, I see that it’s latched at the bottom. The knob is simply cosmetic. I push it open and peer outside. The cool air hits my face along with the smell of pee and moldy food. It’s a grimy little alley lined with the dumpsters of all the businesses on the block.
Directly across the alley is the back door of the Chinese restaurant from around the corner. The main door is open and the screen door is closed. I can hear the clanking of pots and pans and the staccato shouts of Chinese cooks giving orders. I glance up and down the alley, scanning every detail carefully. There is no sign of a town car. Maybe they’ve overlooked something after all.
I creep back to my desk and quickly write a note. Then I fold it up several times, and grab my coat and purse. I dash out the back door, closing it behind me. I shamelessly open the Chinese restaurant’s screen door and step inside. Wafts of steam hang in the air. A short Mexican man washing dishes barely looks up. A few of the Chinese cooks look my way, but no one says anything.
With a confident smile, I stride through the kitchen with purpose and enter the restaurant through swinging doors. It’s in between meal times and the place is empty. A waitress is slumped at a table scanning her smart phone. Again, no one says anything to me at all. I walk through the restaurant and peek out the door. All’s clear.
At that exact moment, a bus rolls up to the stop at the corner. I dash for it and make it inside just before the driver closes the doors. Again I throw a glance over my shoulder, craning my neck, searching for any sign of the town car. Nothing. I fish out a couple dollars and pay the fare.
The bus isn’t going in the right direction, but I don’t care. I’m free. I get off a couple miles away and transfer to one heading to the industrial part of town. Then I find a seat in the back and slouch against the window, struggling to come up with a plan. By the time the derelict buildings and littered streets roll into view, I’ve got it down.
I know the route like the back of my hand. The filthy back streets lined with shuddered warehouses and auto body shops, the narrow, trash-strewn creek just beyond the weedy ditch, and the highway bridge with its graffiti laden stanchions.
Captain’s encampment.
I’m worried that since it is the middle of the afternoon, Captain will be out panhandling or dumpster diving. But I find him sitting on a plastic crate reading a paperback book in the sun. I can’t help but smile at the sight, though I also feel a pang of guilt for not having visited in a while.
“Cap,” I call, making my way over to him.
“Mickey!” he shouts joyfully, dropping his book and pushing himself stiffly to his feet. “All be goddamned! I’ve been wonderin’ every day how you been making out! You look like a movie star!”
I grin and give him a hug. His familiar scent of campfire smoke and body o
dor drifts from his dirty coat. He drags another plastic crate over and offers it to me. I sit down awkwardly hugging my knees, realizing how much more comfortable my life has become. Already I’m losing my memory of street life.
“How’s your health?” I ask pointedly, like a nosy granddaughter. “Have you been to the clinic to be checked?”
He waves a grimy hand at me and shakes him head, amused. “Oh, shit. You know me. I’m indestructible. Stop getting into that silly business. Tell me how you’ve been.”
I bite my lip, not sure what to say. Just yesterday I would’ve gushed about my fabulous job and TV interview. But today I feel like someone has thrown a net over me, and it’s just a matter of time before they start to reel it in.
“Things are going well,” I begin. “I’ve got a great new job, my own apartment…” I lean toward him with excited eyes. “I know you refuse to sleep inside, but come by to shower whenever you need. And I’ll make you dinner some night. No hard liquor. Just wine. That’s the deal.”
Captain snorts, his eyes bright. “Fancy pants!”
I smile and shift my weight, restless and uncertain. I don’t want to take advantage of Captain. But he’s my only hope.
“Cappy, I need a favor.” I hug my knees and look down at my feet. “I’m in a weird situation. Maybe dangerous. But I don’t want you to worry.”
“Tell me you ain’t gotten into drugs.” Captain frowns and furrows his brow in disapproval.
“No, nothing like that.” I look up and meet his eyes. “I just need to get a note to someone, but no one can know about it. I’m not able to deliver it myself.”
“You want me to do it?” he asks cheerfully, clearly game.
I try to imagine Captain riding the elevator up to Lazarus & Smith, filling it with his particular smell, smiling at the professional women with his brown teeth. I chew my lip, thinking.
“Are you still friends with that lady who works at the Starbucks downtown?”
“Jessie? Sure am! She still saves a bag of day olds for me when she can. You want her to do it?”
“Do you think she would?”
Captain shrugs. “Cain’t help but try!”
I fish the note out of my purse and give it to him. “Cap, this is real important to me. If it doesn’t reach this person, I’m just not sure what I’ll do.”
“Then we’ll do it. You tell me the who, the where, and the how in the hell. How soon you need it doing?”
“As soon as possible.”
Cap pushes himself up again, jaw clenched with determination.
“Then I’d better be on my way.”
Chapter Five
I stand at the bathroom mirror brushing out my long, dark hair. Tonight I’m wearing it loose. It hangs on my shoulders with a soft flip. I carefully put on makeup and spray just a little spritz of vanilla oil on my neck. I stare at my reflection and shake my head. You are being way too optimistic, I tell myself. The odds of this happening are small.
I pull on my boots with black heels and leather coat, and then head to the window for the millionth time. The town car is there, as always. But it didn’t catch my outing this afternoon. I’m certain of that. As far as that jackass can tell, I spent the whole time in my office.
The buzzer sounds and I startle. It’s only Liz and Travis, my unwitting beards for the night. I slip on my coat and head out the door.
“Hey, girl!”
Liz throws her arms around me in a warm embrace. Travis gives me a half-hearted hug and tussles my hair, which I should probably get used to if he wants to keep Liz from getting jealous. I smile, though my eyes are flicking to the town car parked at the curb. It’s lights flash on and the engine starts.
Here we go.
The air outside is warmer than expected, and smells of wood burning rotisseries and warm bread. Young people are gathered on the sidewalk in clumps, waiting for available tables. Not a care in the world, I think. No one staking out their homes or following them like a stalker. I shove my hands in my pockets and we wade through the crowds, making our way to the Alley Cat Pub.
As we walk I sense the town car rolling slowly along behind us. I hook an arm in Liz’s and lean into her.
“How’s the packing?”
She giggles like a kid. “Tedious. What’s worse is going through Mr. Pack Rat’s things.” She hooks a thumb toward Travis and playfully rolls her eyes. “My God, I swear he never throws anything away.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” I tease. “You should’ve seen his dorm room. His roommate just stopped coming home because he couldn’t stand the mess.”
Travis groans and shakes his head. “Okay, okay. Travis is a neurotic slob. Established. Can we move on now?”
“I have high hopes of reforming him,” Liz says, giving Travis a wink.
I try to keep my spirits light, but my stomach is fluttering with nerves. I’m scared that my plan didn’t work out after all, and I’m scared that maybe it did. Like the thug said in my apartment, the stakes are high. So I can’t screw this up.
When we reach the bar, it’s already throbbing with life. A thick-necked bouncer stands at the door checking I.D.s. I notice the street is jammed with cars. There’s nowhere to park anywhere in sight. I glance over my shoulder and see the town car put on its hazard lights, double parking. Waiting it out.
Once we’re inside, Liz heads to the bar and Travis and I look for a table. Miraculously, we catch a group leaving and snatch up their booth. Travis collects the dirty glasses and stacks them at the edge of the table. Good enough.
“So, taking the leap, huh?” I rib him. “I guess hell has officially frozen over.”
Travis’s cheeks flush and he looks down at his hands. “Hey, I can’t be a player forever. I mean, a man’s gotta grow, right? I’ve done that for a long time. Now I want to try this.”
In no time, Liz arrives with three pints. I gape at her.
“How the hell did you do that so fast?” I gasp. “There’s a mob scene at the bar!”
Travis grins. “Bartenders go crazy for her. It’s like she hypnotizes them or something. They see those big eyes, that blond hair, and they drop whatever they’re doing. I think they should do a scientific study or something.”
My eyes fix on something just beyond Liz’s shoulder. It’s the thug who came to my house. He’s pushing through the crowd, scanning the room. When he catches sight of us, his eyes lock on me like lasers. Checking to see that no one else is here, I’m guessing. That’s not hideously creepy at all.
Liz puts the pints on the table and slides in next to Travis. “Stopping at two. Right, Trav?”
He takes a sip and wipes the foam from his lips. “Sure thing, babe.”
I’m taken aback. She’s limiting his drinking? Good luck with that, sister. Liz picks up her glass and looks at me.
“Travis has a stopping problem. We’re working on it.”
I arch my eyebrows and nod. Wowza. It really is a brave, new world. I glance over to where the thug was, but he’s gone now. Still, it’s packed. He could be anywhere. I search the crowd, but find no trace of him.
“Hey, look who it is!”
The voice is gruff and familiar. I turn my head to find Simon, the owner of the bar. Simon and I go way back to my worst homeless days in Denver. I often stayed at the bar until close, since there was nowhere else for me to go. But there was something about this place that felt homey and safe. And Simon turned out to be the big brother I needed.
One night, after feeding me too many drinks on the house, he found out that I was homeless. After that, he let me collect the glasses and sweep up at the end of the night for a little cash, and he’d always be sure I had something to eat. He was one of the few guardian angels that brightened my dark days.
“You and your friends drink free, Mick,” he announces. “Just don’t get carried away, you hear?” He puts his meaty hands on the table and leans in close to me. “I’ve got something for you, kid. Lemme have your hand.”
His voice is to
o low for Travis and Liz to hear. I open my hand beneath the table and he presses a key into my palm. With a surge in my chest, I pull my hand shut, gripping the key so tightly the metal digs into my flesh. Simon squeezes my shoulder and disappears back into the crowd.
“No wonder you wanted to come here!” cries Liz happily. “You’ve got sweet connections!”
Travis puts an arm around her shoulder. “Are you kidding? This guy looked after Mickey for years during her ugly duckling days. He’d bust a guy’s head open if he as much as looked at her funny. He’s one loyal fucking bruiser, that guy.”
We drink our beer and Liz and Travis chatter on, though I’m too distracted to pay attention to what they’re saying. I keep searching the crowd for Marquez, waiting until just the right moment to excuse myself. I shift restlessly in my seat, antsy and impatient. All the while I try to smile and nod at Travis and Liz, pretending to follow along. Finally, I can’t stand the waiting any longer.
I pull out my smart phone and look at the screen, keeping it low to keep from being seen. “Sorry, guys. I better take this. Order more drinks. I’ll be back when I can.”
I slide out of the booth and slip through the crowd, making my way to the back of the bar. There’s a short line for the bathroom, and I take my place, struggling not to scowl in frustration. The woman right before me takes forever. Finally, it’s free.
With a final glance over my shoulder, I slip inside. I make a beeline for the beat up door across the cramped, little room. Without locking the bathroom door, I pull out the key, unlock the door, and slip inside.
It’s a very dimly lit, dank space, with only a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Stacks of boxes and bags of potatoes line the walls. In the middle are several industrial sized bags of rice.
And sitting on the bags, gazing at me with both bafflement and relief, is Lazarus.
Chapter Six
When I close the door, the music and raucous sounds of the bar are so muffled my ears ring in the new quiet. Lazarus sits languidly, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees. He’s still wearing his work clothes, tailored jeans with a fitted tee shirt and a gorgeous corduroy jacket. His eyes are fixed on me. They look weary and confused.