by Petra J Knox
“What are you planning on doing to me?” he asked, still good and pissed.
Finally, we’d entered the next stage.
“Nothing, if you answer my questions.”
“I already—”
My finger touched the button of the remote I was holding. He screamed. The electricity that ran down the rope only lasted a second or two, but it was enough.
“You’re a fucking psycho!” Real fear now showed in his hazel eyes. He looked from my face to the remote in my hand, then back again.
“True.” I pressed the button again and watched him dance like a fat worm on a fishing line.
“Fuck! Fine! I know him, Jesus. Shit!”
I gave him a moment to collect himself.
The cry of seagulls reached my ears, reminding me that dawn was soon approaching, almost time to leave this poor sap hanging for a bit before I collected the delivery down out on the pier.
I felt the call of the open air beckoning me, along with a wash of restless energy. I had been in this room with Gideon for hours now. I was itching to get this done and was losing my focus.
When I moved my hand with the remote, Gideon flinched.
“Okay.” He took as deep a breath as his strained chest could make. “Listen to me. Seriously, you don’t want to mess with this thug, boy…wait!” he hastily added when he saw my finger hover over the button. “Jesus, who are you?”
My bored expression gave him nothing.
“Fine, fine. Fuck!” Sweat poured from his face, knowing it was too late for his ass now. “Okay. There’s a place up by the Oceana, called The Pearl. It’s new. A hole in the wall. Coach has some kind of setup in the back. Every morning at five, he’s there. He has these meetings. He’s only there for about thirty, forty minutes tops, and then he’s off to who the fuck knows.” He shut his eyes, his body deflating, then met my gaze inside my hood. “That’s all I fucking know. Nothing else. That’s it, I swear.”
Truth.
Nodding, I flipped the little tab on the remote and shook the two AAA batteries out, placing them in my pocket as I stood up. Then I tossed the remote into a bin beside me. “Do you know how to swim?”
He looked at me, hope and confusion converging into what created an interesting expression on his face. “What?”
I walked up on the platform, undid a few buckles, and carefully lifted his feet out of the cinderblocks. “Swim. Can you swim?” I grabbed him but the waist, moving his body out of the way while I shoved the blocks back.
His bare, bloody feet now touched the floor of the platform. “Uh… yeah?”
Stepping behind him, I climbed a few feet up the nearby ladder and pulled out my pocketknife. “Good.” I began to saw the rope. When only a few fibers remained, I hit the switch on the wall next to me. “Warning, the water’s cold.”
The floor opened up under him in a mournful groan of metal, and with one final swish of my knife, the rope gave in to the weight of his body. It followed him down like a whip as gravity did its thing. A big splash of water was all I heard as he dropped.
I flipped the switch again, pocketed my knife, and climbed back down.
With my hands in my pockets, and my covered head down, I locked up the boathouse and walked through the darkened alley behind Dead Man’s Pier, the smell of fish assaulting my nose.
The sky was losing its inky darkness, now painted with lavender and pale blue. It was almost six when I rounded the corner and headed toward the western docks.
The wharf was mainly for import. Since the City was basically on a peninsula, with only one entrance and exit, almost all our goods came by boat, to free the northern gate up just for visitors.
I glanced around the pier and watched as the buoys on the water bobbed and echoed off the many boats that were already docked. The boat I was looking for hadn’t arrived yet. Eddie, the captain of The Catch, always ran a bit late due to his jovial personality. The man could talk your ear off. Unfortunately for his customers waiting by, his chattin’-it-up cost him time.
I didn’t mind, though. As long as I was on time, I could wait.
There were a couple of benches up ahead, so I decided I’d just take a seat and people-watch, something I did a lot of over my twenty-four years. When I was alone, I was usually reading. But out on a job or on the streets, I didn’t have enough trust in humanity to get lost in a good novel.
I’d spent hours and hours watching, observing, learning. Nothing was more fascinating to me than human nature. The body, for instance, gave away all kinds of unspoken things, whether someone was nervous, playful, broken, or lying. Lies, specifically, I could read with my eyes shut. It was a talent I had, a sixth sense. Pop knew about it, but others didn’t. Some even said I was psychic.
Once, when I was younger, a fortune teller had stormed into the shop, cursing up a storm to Pop. She’d pointed a finger at me and accused me of ruining her business because I had called her a liar after she’d given a nice old couple their fortune. Pop threw her ass out and had laughed all week long. But when she came back later that month, asking if Pop would let me come work for her, “hidden of course!” well, Pop had told her to fuck off. “He’s not for sale, you shady bitch!” he had shouted through the open door, before locking up for the rest of the night.
“Nice spot for a nice morning,” a lofty voice said nearby.
I looked up right before Crocket sat down on the bench beside me.
Dressed in his usual dark slacks, a white dress shirt with yellow suspenders, and his signature Panama hat, he threw me a nod and smiled. “How are you, Pinn? How’s your pop?”
Crocket knew I didn’t talk a lot. He never pressed for more than I wanted to give, which I appreciated. His presence was sometimes even comforting.
I shrugged and stared on ahead, my eyes casting around the pier for any sign of The Catch.
Crocket and I had known each other for a few years. I’d helped out at his cousin’s salon once. A bunch of fuckheads had come in, trashing the place after playing with the girls and not paying up. His cousin Maggie was a good madam and had always treated me right. Plus, she paid her monthly tax to Pop for her salon’s safety. It was my job to help Pop, and his to help our clients. But I would’ve helped her regardless.
Ever since, Crocket had tried to befriend me, offering me work at the bookshop he owned, giving me books, visiting me every so often—checking on me, more like. He was older than me by about a decade, at least. He said there was something about me that just “needed looking after, every once in a while.”
I didn’t mind it. Didn’t know what he got out of it, though.
“Heard from a little bird you were looking for a Mr. Stone, kid.”
My ears perked up at that, but I didn’t face him.
He went on, noticing my interest. “He’s bad news, Pinn. Bad, bad news. If I were you, I’d drop it. He’ll be leaving the City soon, no doubt about it.”
I did turn then and looked at him, gauging his expression, wondering what he was trying to tell me. Was he worried about me? Or did he know something I didn’t?
The corners of his eyes crinkled a bit in his tan face. By most women’s standards, I’m sure he’d be considered handsome in that “Old Hollywood” way. Tall and slim, he exuded relaxed control, always crossing his leg over the other when he sat, yet his eyes were constantly on the alert.
His long fingers tapped a silent rhythm against his knee, and he winked at me. “Just a feeling. Just a warning.” Then his face grew serious, his brown eyes shining like burnt syrup. “He’s not worth it, Pinn. Let this one go.” He turned his gaze back to the water and said no more.
I wanted to tell him to fuck off, ask him who the hell was he to tell me what to do. He didn’t know me, not really. Nobody knew me. Besides, I was owned. When Pop told me to do something, I did it. I didn’t question it. It was none of my business.
Minutes passed in silence as I waited for that fucking boat to arrive. In my peripheral, something electric blue caught my eye
and I turned. It was her. Blue.
With a will of its own, my body leaned forward, my feet wanting to walk over to her. But then I got a better look when the woman turned from the shadows, and the light post she was standing near gave me a clearer picture. Only a street vendor. What I’d thought was hair was only a scarf tied around the woman’s head, the length running down her back.
A feeling of deflation filled me, and I frowned. I didn’t understand my reaction. I’d never been interested in women. Never felt anything close to the lust I’ve seen in men’s eyes when they see a pretty girl or a stripper at a salon. My mind and body ran on two modes: focus and apathy. Feeling things were dangerous, and that was one of the things that was bothering me most about my reaction to Blue—feeling.
I turned back to the water again and noticed right away that Crocket was gone.
Another reason to curse meeting the blue-haired siren. I was losing my focus, my attention so diverted that all my instincts were dull. And that, I could never allow.
My musings were interrupted when, finally, The Catch rolled into the harbor. I waited a bit and then walked over to meet its captain.
Eddie was laughing and talking it up with his crew as he disembarked, waving a hand at the cargo, instructing his men to unload. When he saw me, he nodded, his eyes losing a bit of its mirth, his voice softening as he greeted me.
“Pinn, my boy, good to see ya. Come over here and I’ll hand you your pop’s package.” He called for one of his crew, said a few words, and waved me over. “Here we are.”
The crewman moved some canvas bags around, digging through one of them, then pulled out a cylinder that looked like it held a poster or a map. He handed it to Eddie, who handed it to me with a smile.
“Tell your Pop hello for me, kid.”
I nodded and tucked the cardboard tube in the crook of my arm, glad to have at least a few missions over and done. But I had a feeling that, until I took care of Pepper, things weren’t going to continue to run so smoothly.
3
Animals
It was several nights later when I finally tracked Pepper down. The man was even more elusive than I was, which was saying something. Everywhere he was supposed to be, it turned out it was only minutes, sometimes seconds, that I had just missed him. He was turning out to be a ghost, a phantom gliding through the City of Lights at a cavalier pace, only to poof away like a dream once realized.
And it was pissing me off.
Pop’s patience—which he’d never had enough to begin with—had finally run out, and it was down to the wire. If I didn’t take out this target soon… well, there was no if.
Sitting at a table with a couple of goons in animal masks, Pepper signaled the waitress with a snap of his gloved hand. Turned out, the waitress was Cotton Candy. Luckily, I was tucked in the corner, my back against the wall, close to the stage.
And, yes, I was back at Mesmer.
My eyes cast around the bawdy room filled with masked patrons in various dress. My own mask was just a strip of black cloth with holes for eyes. Even though I kept to the shadows, I still maintained my black-on-black hoodie and jeans, my hood over my head, hands in my pockets.
I felt a movement to my right and glanced in that direction. Crocket. He stepped closer and leaned against the wall, a snifter in his hand.
“Evening, kid.”
I grunted in response, my eyes back on my target. With a top hat on and a long, black braid down his back, Pepper wasn’t hard to miss. His mask was a black raven, its beak curved over his nose. He was smiling at whatever the man in the pig’s mask was saying. The other man, a dolphin, threw his head back in laughter.
“Still playing with fire, I see,” Crocket said beside me.
Cotton Candy arrived at Pepper’s table, bending low, handing out their drinks. Her skirt, a black tutu-type thing, rose, showcasing her ass cheeks and the minuscule string of her thong.
Crocket whistled. “Hot damn, now that’s an ass.”
Forgetting my prey for a moment, I turned to Crocket, curious. Cotton Candy didn’t seem his type.
Crocket grinned, his brown eyes looking at me through his white owl mask. “I’m an ass man. What can I say?”
I shrugged. As far as asses went, I guess hers was nicely formed. She had a fit body, wasn’t ugly or anything, she was just an… object to me, though. Like a flower in a vase.
He gave me a funny look. “Jesus, son, you need to get laid. Have some fun,” Crocket said with a laugh, tossing his drink back. “You’re way too serious.”
My eyes went back to the table of goons. “No time for fun. I work and sleep. That’s it.”
“Exactly my point.”
The room’s lighting changed then, a royal blue that cast everything in enchantment. The effect hushed the patrons, and every eye went to the stage.
Someone walked to its center, setting up a mic stand, then walked back off.
This time, however, I wouldn’t be distracted when Blue came out on stage, and yes, I knew it was her who was about to perform.
When pale blue, gossamer curtains dropped down from the ceiling to pool at the front of the stage, I saw her silhouette enter behind them. Like catching a glimpse of some princess at her bath behind the palace’s veils, everyone held their breath. Not a whisper to be heard. I steeled myself, my lips in a tight line hard enough to hurt my cheeks.
Already, this woman was ruining my night.
Then she sang. It was a song about escaping something, flying away, yearning for freedom. And it did things to me, that voice, those words, that silhouette that swayed seductively behind her gauzy curtains. Something I didn’t like, not one bit.
So I turned away, even though it felt like pulling my head out of cement. I looked at my target. He was still there at the table. But there was something in the tilt of his head, the set of his jaw and mouth. I was too far away to see his stupid eyes, but close enough to know he was totally caught in the same web I was. Blue. In fact, I looked around the whole room.
Everyone was entranced.
Crocket’s eyes were closed, his head down, a smile on his face as if the music were transporting him to another time, another place.
In seconds, I was as lost as these poor souls, hanging on every note as if each breath depended on it.
When the last note ended, the stage lights dimmed, and once again, Mesmer’s lights changed back to that red haze the color of brimstone.
Blue entered the room and went to the bar. She had on a slinky top and barely-there shorts, both silver. My heart was beating like a drum, and I felt suddenly ill.
“You okay, kid? You look like you’re going to be sick,” Crocket asked, moving in front of me and blocking my view. Had he touched me, I’d have punched him. But he knew me, whether I liked that fact or not. Somehow, he knew not to ever touch me, that I wasn’t… normal.
“I’m fine.” I didn’t have time for this. I had a target to take out. There was no room for distractions and strange feelings, no matter how beautifully wrapped they came. I shoved Crocket aside with my shoulder and found Cotton Candy by the doors.
“I want a table,” I growled.
She looked at me through her flamingo mask, her smile falling, eyes widening when she realized it was me. “Um…sure, sir. Follow me.” She grabbed a fancy menu from her little hostess stand and practically sprinted to the furthest table in the place, a semi-circular booth. As I knew it would be, it was behind the goons’ table.
When I sat down, she placed the menu down in front of me and mumbled something about someone being with me in a moment, then hurried away. Good. At least someone was acting as they should.
Pretending to read the menu, my eyes glanced around from this new view. Crocket was gone. The stage was dark, and Blue was leaving the bar, wearing that same snowy half-mask. Her appearance made everything around her seem dull and dingy. A pretty drink with a blue umbrella was in her hand. I watched as she was eagerly greeted by her fans.
Her energy was
breathtaking—effortless, classy, so beautiful. She was like a butterfly as she made her way through the room.
The goons thought so too, waving her over. Dolphin and Pig were grinning like idiots. Pepper was tipping his hat already, his lascivious mouth opening to lick his lips.
An anxious feeling ran through me. I didn’t want her anywhere near them. In fact, I didn’t want her even out on the floor. Didn’t she have other things to do besides mingle with the patrons? Didn’t the owner, Bunny, care about her being mauled and harassed by the City’s worst scum?
I looked around quickly for the bouncers. Mesmer kept them blended in with the patrons or among the scenery, but I could spot them. Two were closer to the doors, one on the other side of the stage. None were watching Blue as she stood by Pepper’s table, smiling sweetly at the goons.
Scooting closer to the edge of my booth, I could barely make out their words over the din of the next act coming on stage, a trio of 1920s flappers.
“—performance in private, little bird, such a voice!” Pig said to Blue.
I wanted to punch his piggy, fucking face.
“Thank you so much. You’re too kind,” she returned. Her speaking voice was breathy and did funny things to me.
I couldn’t turn in their direction without looking like I was eavesdropping—which I was—so I didn’t see the lady that appeared at my side until she spoke.
“Welcome to Mesmer! What’s your pleasure tonight, sir?”
Dammit. Always something in this damn place, I thought.
I waved the server away, not even bothering to look at her to see if she understood. Once she was gone, I risked a look back at the goons’ table. Dolphin and Pig were sipping fresh drinks. Pepper was gone. I checked the back of the room and saw him entering the hall to the restrooms. I scooted out of the booth and stood, turning on my heel. Only to come face to face with Blue.
“Hi, did you enjoy the show?” She was smiling up at me, her glitter eyes sparkling, oblivious to the danger she was greeting.