Mencken added her glass to the other three. Gingerly, he slid the tray off the table with his good hand. Balancing it as best he could, he made his way to the bar behind them.
“Why don’t you do Chris?” Imani said.
“Because he can’t,” Chris teased.
Laughter rose behind Mencken as Jose attempted a Chris imitation.
Stepping behind the bar, Mencken placed the tray carefully on the countertop. He looked at the taps. There were seven options. He had no idea what most of them were. The stylized pulls and bright label colors did nothing to indicate which of the options would be heavy enough to satisfy Agnew.
“I find the one second to the left to be the most satisfying,” a deep voice said quietly.
The rumble caught Mencken off guard. He jump with surprise, turning to see Rothman sitting in shadows at the end of the bar. Mencken stepped down and grabbed the giant man’s glass. Pulling forward on the suggested tap, he filled the glass with a dark drown brew. He then passed the full, heavy glass back to Rothman.
“Thank you,” Rothman said.
Mencken filled Chris, Imani, and Agnew’s glasses from the same tap. With the glasses full, he turned and placed them on the bar behind him. Jose was still acting out battle scenes. He looked at the small family and smiled again.
“It’s impossible without it,” Rothman said warmly, also admiring the scene.
“What is?” Mencken said, curiously.
“Battling monsters,” Rothman said. “It’s impossible without a family to come home to. This moment is what makes the battle survivable. Without it, one would lose heart in the heat of the battle. When the world is on fire, we need this to sustain us. We need the knowledge of this to beckon us home.”
Mecken smiled for a third time. “Yeah,” he said, knowing exactly what he needed to do. A surge of energy filled his legs, as an unexpected urgency overcame him. “Hey,” he said to Rothman. “Deliver these for me.” Mencken pushed the tray of full glasses toward the giant. Without waiting for an answer, Mencken stepped around the bar and headed toward the front door.
“Best of luck,” Rothman called with a laugh.
The chill of the night air bit at his nose. His heart throbbed with anticipation. He crossed the street without looking, believing that not even a speeding car could slow him now. He threw open the door to his building and strode across the threshold. He took the stairs two at a time, not wanting to waste the extra second it would take to step on each one.
It was only there, in front of her door, that he slowed. What would he say? What if he was wrong? What if she didn’t return his affection? Filled with fear, he stopped. Staring at her door, he questioned himself. He questioned whether this was the right course of action. Maybe he should come back tomorrow with roses, or maybe he should have chocolates, or maybe he should write her a love letter? He was a writer after all. Isn’t that how he should express himself to her for the first time? The fearful side of his soul gained a foothold. “A letter would work,” he mumbled to himself. “I could just slide it under the door. Maybe not even sign it. That could be romantic.”
He thought about the past month. He thought about Antia Dickson and the Clevelands. He remembered the glee in Gilly’s eyes as the monster took his teeth. He remembered Jose on the City Hall lawn. He thought about the giant fire on the hill. The images washed over him, one after the other. So much had changed in the last few weeks. The world was a different place than it had been before, a place full of mysterious dangers, larger than he imagined. He thought about Imani taking Chris to the basement after the devastating loss, and then he remembered Chris kissing Imani on the cheek after the eventful victory. He heard Rothman’s words again, “It’s impossible without a family to come home to.”
Courage boomed in his chest, supplied by the knowledge that tomorrow was uncertain, that he was not guaranteed another dawn, and that he needed a partner if he was to face the problems of the city. He needed someone who would kiss him on the cheek, someone he could take to the basement after a loss. He needed family. He needed love. He needed her. He wanted her. He knew he would fail without her. His mind made up, Mencken pounded on her door with his good hand.
And then, she was there. Her thick black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her green eyes sparkling at him like Christmas lights on a tree. Her perfect lips drifted into a smile. Mencken looked her up and down. She was in a ratty, loose-fitting, gray t-shirt and old, thinning blue sweat pants. Mencken smiled at her fuzzy green slippers. She looked perfect. She was perfect.
“Hey,” he said.
Rosie noticed his left arm. Imani had cleaned it, wrapped it, and put it in a sling. “Are you alright?” Rosie said, reaching for him.
Mencken grabbed her hand before she could touch him. He held on to it, not wanting to lose her, afraid she might disappear. She looked at their hands, tangled together, and she smiled.
“I was wondering,” Mencken said. “If you might want to, um.” Words left him in the face of her beauty. “If you, um. Well,” he stumbled. “If you might want to go get some dinner? Or maybe just some coffee? Or something?” He looked at his feet, embarrassed by his fumbling. He knew he was ruining the moment. He was certain he was losing her, all because he couldn’t put a few sentences together.
Rosie squeezed his hand. She placed her free palm on his cheek. Pulling down gently, she guided his lips to meet hers. Relief and joy rushed through Mencken’s veins as their mouths connected for the first time. She held him there for a moment, and then moved back. Grinning up at him, she said, “I thought you’d never ask.”
THE END
Chapter 27
Hunter couldn’t help but smile when his boys took their positions. Quincy stood in the street with his back to the driver’s side door; Kamal stationed himself at the front door to the hotel, watching the lobby; and Dominic, the leader of the three, opened rear passenger door. The three teens were focused, noticing every movement around them, preparing to intercept any potential threat.
Hunter stepped from the dark car into the sunlight. He looked into the sky, savoring the warmth on his face. “Has the building been cleared?” he asked his second in command.
“Yes, sir,” Dominic said, scanning the street. The boy was tall and muscular with the shoulders of a linebacker. In his black suit and sunglasses, few would have guessed he was only sixteen.
“Has everyone arrived?” Hunter asked, looking his protégé in the eye.
“Everyone is present, sir. Five came with escorts. They’ve been disarmed and seated in the hotel bar.”
“Excellent,” Hunter said. “Let’s take the boss inside.”
Dominic moved toward the hotel door. In response, Kamal entered the lobby to secure the elevator. Hunter stepped forward to allow his boss to exit the black sedan.
In contrast to the four members of his security team, Ignatius Deceus was not dressed in a black suit. Mr. Deceus, or Iggy to his friends, was a short man in his mid-fifties. His thinning hair was streaked with gray, and the corners of his eyes were marked with smile lines. He was dressed comfortably in khakis, a pale blue Oxford shirt, and navy blue sweater. Although he’d lived in Baltimore for more than two decades, his accent still gave him away as a native of the Deep South. “Is everything set?” he asked Hunter as he stepped from the car to the sidewalk.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Deceus,” Hunter replied.
“Excellent,” Deceus said.
Hunter led the way for Deceus into the building. Quincy, the small, quick, fourteen-year-old member of Hunter’s team brought up the rear. No one bothered them as they walked through the ornate lobby. Few of the staff knew that Deceus owned the building. In their eyes, he was simply another VIP on his way to a meeting in the penthouse conference room.
Dominic was waiting at the elevator for them, holding the door open for them. Hunter and Deceus entered first, then Dominic and Quincy.
“Do you have the video ready?” Deceus asked.
“Everything
is ready,” Hunter replied.
“Getting that footage was excellent work,” Deceus said. “Excellent work.”
“The boys did well, sir,” Hunter said.
Dominic and Quincy showed no sign they could hear the conversation.
“It’s a game changer,” Deceus said. “A real game changer. We might just pull this whole thing off after all.”
“I have no doubt, sir,” Hunter said.
The elevator came to a halt on the twenty-second floor, and the door slid open. Kamal, a lean thirteen-year-old with a scar above his right eye, stood at attention in the hall. The four new arrivals stepped off the elevator.
“Boys,” Hunter said. “Secure the room.”
Without a word, led by Dominic, the three teens moved down the hall and through the two large double doors at the far end.
“You know,” Deceus said, checking his teeth in the golden framed hallway mirror. “When you first told me your plan for those little monsters, I was skeptical, but you’ve really worked them into a fine team.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hunter said, standing behind his boss.
“But still, I worry,” Deceus said as he pulled the cuffs of his shirt out from under his sweater. “You need to be more careful with them. All this social media nonsense they’ve been up to. It’s going to get them caught.”
“We have it under control, sir.”
“That’s the thing about monsters,” Deceus said. He combed his eyebrows with his thumb, making sure all the hairs were in line. “You’re never really in control.”
“Not that long ago, I thought all rich white men were monsters. Labels are a matter of perspective,” Hunter said with a smile.
Deceus turned to face the man he thought of as a son. He squeezed his right shoulder affectionately and smiled. “You’ve got me there,” he said. Then he turned and walked toward the conference room. Hunter followed behind.
The conference room was dominated by a large, round, mahogany table. Around the table were eleven brown leather chairs. Two walls of the room were glass, giving a stunning view of the city. A large flat screen television was mounted on the third wall. Three waiters dressed in white buzzed around the room clearing breakfast plates from the table and refilling coffee cups.
Everyone on the council was in their usual seats. Sam Dandrip, the local media celebrity, sat at the chair closest to the door. Samson Black, the City Council President, nursed a brandy across from him. The four real-estate moguls, John Hammerjam, Sarah Atkinson, Rufus Gilford, and Hoon Gahn laughed together quietly to right. Police Commissioner Eddy and Ronaldo Glass, the CEO of Baltimore City Schools, chatted casually with the gangster known as Agamemnon. To the left of Sam was Hannibal Dula, an aging, dignified gangster who controlled the Baltimore docks and much of the east side of the city. Hannibal quietly reviewed email on his cell phone. It was a dignified group of local titans. Knowing they had all come because they revered and served his mentor made Hunter smile.
Hunter’s boys stood at attention in three corners of the room. Hunter had trained them well. He knew that with a snap of his fingers, the teens would kill the ten council members without hesitation. The council members knew it too, which explained the occasional nervous glances they gave the teens.
Deceus’ entrance told the wait staff that their jobs were finished for the morning. They rapidly wrapped up their tasks and exited the room through the doors behind Hunter.
“Sam,” Deceus said, affectionately squeezing Sam’s shoulder with one hand while extending his other for a shake.
“Iggy,” Sam said. He stood out of respect, and shook Iggy’s hand.
This was Deceus’ custom. At every meeting he shook hands, smiled, and exchanged laughs with each person at the table. Hunter, in contrast, waited stoically behind his boss, occasionally offering a nod of welcome, but never sharing a pleasantry.
“Sit, sit,” Deceus said to Sam. “How’s that new horse? An American Saddlebred? Is that right? Have you had much time to ride recently?”
“Not nearly enough,” Sam said. “She just arrived last week. Got her from a stable in Alexandria. I’m excited about getting her out and about though. You should come and join me. It would be an honor to have you and your daughter out to the farm again. I’ll give you the first ride. Maybe for dinner next week?”
“Well, I can’t speak for Abigail, but I would love to come out. But only if you promise to make that incredible manicotti. I’m telling you Sam, that pasta was a work of art.”
“Absolutely,” Sam said enthusiastically.
“I’ll have my secretary call and set a date then,” Deceus said. He squeezed Sam’s shoulder again, gave Sam an affectionate smile, and then moved on to the next member at the table.
Hunter respected that his boss knew every detail of each council member’s life: their hobbies, their habits, and their vices. He’d paid good money to have each of them watched and profiled. While the council members saw of Deceus as a friend, Hunter knew Deceus saw them as pieces on his chess board. Deceus moved them around however he wished.
Once the round had been made, Deceus took his seat at the table. Hunter stood behind him, taking the same stance as his boys in the corners.
“Thank y’all for coming this morning,” Deceus said. “I apologize that I couldn’t join you for breakfast. I assume the food was to your liking.”
There were nods and grateful affirmations from around the table.
“I know how busy y’all are,” Deceus continued. “And I can’t tell y’all how grateful I am that you prioritize these monthly gatherings. There are three things on this morning’s agenda. We need to discuss next steps for the Pimlico development, Mr. Gahn has proposed an innovative solution to our North Avenue predicament, and Councilman Black will provide us with an update on the upcoming Mayoral race. But before we launch into those items of business, there is something of interest I would like to bring to y’all’s attention.”
Hunter reached forward, retrieved a small black remote from the table and pointed it at the large television on the wall. The screen came to life with a video of Federal Hill. At the top of the hill was a large pink circle. There appeared to be giant, muscular people streaming from it, entering into a fist-fight with four other people on the hill.
The members of the council were enraptured by the events on the screen. They’d never seen anything like it. Sam was the first to speak. “Was this movie made recently?” he blurted out. “The CGI is incredible. Is this a Baltimore-based production company?”
Deceus laughed. “Sam, you know, I thought the same thing when Hunter showed it to me last night. But this isn’t a movie. This video was captured by one of Hunter’s boys yesterday, just before sunset. This is real, Gentlemen. It’s all real.”
The room sat in stunned silence.
“Hunter, would you mind explaining further? You know the details far better than I do.”
Hunter hesitated, watching the video. When the screen zoomed in on the pink circle at the top of the hill, Hunter paused the movie. “My boys have been following a blogger we’ve been toying with recently.”
“Quite an ambitious young man,” Deceus interjected. “Maybe a future candidate for this table.”
“In the past few days the blogger had taken to following these four on the hill. We didn’t think much of it at first. It seemed to be a potential story he was chasing, but then yesterday there was an engagement on the lawn of City Hall, and then this appeared at the top of Federal Hill. As you can see,” Hunter said, motioning toward the television screen with the remote. “It appears this pink circle is a doorway of some kind, and that there is a large mass of men on the other side.”
“Y’all know what I see here?” Deceus said with a smile. “I see opportunity. Commissioner Eddy, you and I have discussed before how a private security force might have a positive impact on the city, relieving your officers from some of their more physical burdens. And Hannibal and Agamemnon, imagine no longer having to struggle t
o raise up street thugs to manage y’all’s affairs. What if I could equip y’all with a hundred of those beasts? Can you imagine?” Deceus smacked the table with excitement. “Now I don’t know who they are, or where that pink door leads, but I’m going to find out. I’m going to find out, and I promise y’all, we will harness that force. We’ll harness it, and wield it to accomplish our agenda. This gentlemen,” Deceus said pointing at the screen. “This is the future army we need.”
TO BE CONTINUED
The Defense of Reality Page 18