by Jack Parker
Victor shrugged. "He might not for a while. Relax."
"I'm plenty relaxed," Emery said, setting down his glass. "Come on. Feign a conversation here or we'll look suspicious."
"Or we could just have, you know, an actual conversation."
Emery raised an eyebrow. "About what? Did you have something in mind?"
He kind of did, but he didn't really want to have it with this many ears around. "Uh…what's Canada like?"
"Cold," Emery muttered. "But it's alright I suppose. Nice folks. Well, not necessarily the ones I kept regular company with, but overall. Why? You thinking of visiting?"
"I don't speak French."
"It's not French all over. Besides, I remember talk of fleeing to Mexico and I presume you don't speak Spanish."
Victor rested his elbows on the table and snorted. "Puedo hablar español con fluidez, culero."
Emery cut off a surprised laugh. "Alright, I stand corrected. Suppose I ought not to assume things."
"It's never stopped you before," Victor decided. He watched Emery's eyes flicker across the room and gave him an expectant look.
"He's seen her," Emery informed.
"How can you tell?"
"He just sent one of his pals to fetch her a drink. He pointed her out."
Victor chanced a look over to the stairwell that they could see through the railing from where they sat, watching as the longer-legged of Malcom's associates strode down the steps towards the bar. "Great."
"Are you ready to make the switch?"
"Yeah, as long as it's quick and she manages to get him close enough to us." He watched the guard lean over and issue and order to the bartender, who looked up towards the balcony and nodded. Victor pursed his lips, hoping that was as innocuous as it seemed.
"You're looking a bit obvious, mate," Emery noted.
Victor quickly drew his eyes back up. "I'd be surprised if anyone could see us around this stupid horse."
"All the same." Emery stared down at his drink for a long moment. "So, are you seeing anyone?"
Victor gave him a look.
"What? I just thought I'd ask."
"I was seeing a lot of someones before this."
"Don't you ever date?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Victor shoved a hand into his chest. "Come on, I'm not exactly boyfriend material here. I've yet to meet a woman who just loves getting shot at and wondering whether or not her man is alive most of the time."
Emery smiled faintly. "I guess that is a rare breed. Do you…well, do you wish things were different? Would you have a love life if you could?"
Victor thought for a moment and sat back. "I wish a lot of things were different. But my love life's just fine."
"You don't wish you had more than sex?"
"Hey, sex is nothing to sneeze at."
"Sure, but it isn't everything."
"Sometimes it is."
Emery paused for a moment and sighed. "I'll give you that one…ah. Here we go."
Victor glanced over his shoulder in time to see Loretta being approached by a cocktail waitress, who gestured to Malcom as she handed her a colorful drink. Loretta did a good job of adopting surprise on her face as she took it and smiled gratefully his way. He smirked back and nodded to her. "And the fish takes a bite…"
Emery hummed and took another drink. "Excellent. She'll have her claws in him in no time."
Victor turned back around. "Don't be too sure. Despite popular depictions in media, it actually does take more than just a pretty face to totally distract a guy. Especially while he's on the job."
"Lucky she's got a good pair of legs to back up that face, then." Emery leaned back. "Admit it. She's a proper knockout."
"Sure, you picked a good one. For a guy with no taste in women."
Emery huffed. "I can appreciate beauty objectively, can't I?"
"Beauty and fuckability are two different things."
"Sorry, was I supposed to be looking for a bird I'd shag?"
Victor bit back a laugh. "No. Can you imagine the fucked up Crying Game we'd have on our hands? I just think it's a little hilarious that a heterosexual woman and a homosexual man picked out our straight bait."
Emery frowned. "You don't know that Georgie's heterosexual."
"Is she gay?"
"Don't know; never asked. That's my point."
Victor held a hand to his earpiece. "Hey Georgie, settle an argument. Are you a lesbian?"
"I beg your pardon?" her voice replied flatly.
"Stop," Emery chastised.
Victor held up a finger. "Humor me. Are you or aren't you?"
"…I'm not. What's going on in there? Is something—"
"Can't talk now. We'll fill you in later," Victor said, cutting her off. "See?"
Emery made an annoyed face. "Alright, are you just miffed we didn't include you in the decision, then?"
"No. I'm just yanking your chain." Victor scratched his beard and glanced to his left. "What are they up to?"
"Sitting and talking." He paused, then snorted and shook his head. "You ever notice that almost all conversations between the two of us are about sex?"
"Most of my conversations with anyone are about sex."
"Well you must be an excellent lover for all of your bragging." Emery toasted him with his glass.
"That's what I'm gonna have engraved on my tombstone," Victor decreed, gesturing with a hand. "Here lies Victor Scott. He was an idiot, but damn could that guy fuck."
Emery chuckled and let his eyes flit back over to the couple in question.
Loretta was doing a pretty good job of keeping Malcom's attention. She sipped her drink and watched him curiously from under long lashes, laughing brightly when he cracked a joke and blushing when he paid her compliments. A whore who could blush—maybe Emery hadn't done so bad after all. He caught Malcom casually lifting a strap of her dress to set it back in place on her shoulder, finger grazing her clavicle with clear intent as he did so. She giggled and gave him the sort of side eyes that women generally gave to men they were sizing up for a good plow. Victor observed the gleeful, predatory gleam in Malcom's eyes before turning back to his table and letting Emery do the watching.
Two more drinks in and Loretta was beginning to really shine. It wasn't long before Emery was discreetly pointing out an escalation. Malcom was grinning with an obvious and unpleasant overbite as she rested a long leg over his and slid her free hand into his shirt. There were a tense few moments wherein Victor could feel Emery's leg jittering impatiently under the table between them before the couple's lips connected.
"She's got him," Emery told Georgie quickly. "He's receptive. She's about to move him."
Georgie's voice came in stern and serious. "Don't tip him off. Spook him just once and we're done for—he'll be gone in a heartbeat and we'll have nothing. You'd better look casual."
"They're up. She's bringing him over," Emery said.
"Quit staring," Victor reprimanded. He glanced over his shoulder and noted that they were only a dozen or so feet away. Malcom was leading Loretta along by the arm towards the back. He looked like he was about to bypass Victor and Emery's section altogether when Loretta stumbled over her shoe, gripping at his jacket while she staggered into the booth behind theirs and cackling loudly as she pulled at him.
"Here, here!" She laughed.
"Here?" Malcom repeated unsurely. Victor wasn't looking, but he could feel the gaze land on their table.
"It's private enough…No prying eyes can see around this awful thing, can they?" Loretta insisted, slapping a hand on the horse statue's glossy backside.
Emery was quick to pick up the slack and keep up pretenses, leaning forward to Victor and shaking his head. "If you really feel that way about her then you ought to just file the papers and be done with it."
Victor shifted uneasily. "It's only been three months. Immigration was already halfway up my ass when we I first got here—they'll think it was a sham marriage. I'll be fucking deported."
He could feel Malcom slinking down into the booth behind him. Emery gave him a slight nod of reassurance. "But you're working here. And making a good bit of money at that."
"It's just not worth the hassle."
"So what? You're just going to live in a loveless marriage for a year or two? That's bloody mental. I couldn't go that long without a lay."
Victor could hear the unsavory sounds of tongue hockey playing out a few inches away from the back of his head. Gross. He willed himself not to cringe away. "I don't know. Maybe we'll try an open relationship."
"Oh, yeah. Women love those," Emery snorted.
Victor was about to lean forward to utter some exasperated response when he felt something touch him from behind. He took a quick glance and noticed that it was the end of a blue tie lying over his shoulder. Malcom was sitting directly behind him, Loretta straddling his lap as she pulled open his shirt to rake her long nails down his chest. She'd moved the tie out of the way first. Malcom didn't seem to notice, what with his mouth full and all. Victor shot a glance to Emery and slid a hand into his pocket to quickly produce the dummy card. "You never know until you ask," he said calmly.
Emery watched his fingers like a hawk but his voice remained focused on a snide tone. "Go on and ask. Then you won't have to worry about immigration since she'll send you home in a body bag herself."
One of Malcom's hands moved behind him as if to grab for the tie but Loretta's hand snatched it and placed it instead on one of her ample breasts. In one fluid motion Victor swept up his hand and swiped the camera out of the fold in the tie. He could hear Loretta really pulling for their target's full attention, moaning, humming, grinding hard enough to wobble the booth bench. It was making his steady hand hard to come by but it was doing the trick. He quickly pulled out the chip from the camera and loaded his own, tucking the black stick back into the fold just as the tie was suddenly yanked away. Victor stiffened. Emery quickly looked down.
"Stop," Malcom snapped. Then he chuckled up at his date dismissively. "…That's…my favorite tie. Wouldn't want to wrinkle it."
Loretta giggled again and bent down over him. "Such a dapper man…I like that."
Emery gave her a dramatic salute before sliding out of the booth. "Well look, let's go get pissed and forget about failed marriages for a night. It'll be on me."
Victor grumbled and zipped up his jacket. "Fine, but not here. This place is too flashy. Let's just find some cheap shithole and stay there."
"Yeah, alright."
Emery waited until they were all the way downstairs and nearly out the door before he contacted Georgie again. "It's done."
Georgie's voice was eager. "You made the switch? He doesn't suspect it?"
"Went off without a hitch," he replied.
"Excellent. Bravo, men. Best get a move on outside while we wait for our girl."
"Pulling out," Victor said. He gave one more glance up towards the balcony to catch a glimpse of Loretta really driving her point home before slipping outside after Emery. They met up with Georgie on the same shadowed stoop across the street as before while they waited for their last member.
"I'm very impressed," Georgie noted as she approached. "You really didn't garner any attention from his mates?"
Emery was already shaking his head. "Couldn't have gone better. Luck was in our favor."
"Luck nothing," Victor quipped. "That's just what happens when you have a well thought-out plan. In other words, when you let me make the plan."
Emery smiled sheepishly.
Victor produced the SD card from his coat pocket and held it up. "But let's not get too cocky too soon. This could just be hours on end of the guy jerking it for all we know."
Georgie stared down at it. "Malcom is always in circulation. There's no chance we won't catch a good portion of his clientele. We'd just better hope it's the right portion. …Any ETA on Loretta?"
Emery looked back towards the bar. "It can't be long. She must've seen us leave and I'm sure she'd be eager to make her exit."
It was almost twenty minutes later that they finally saw her make her way out of the Fairway, wiping meticulously at her lipstick with a thumb and looking both ways across the street before heading their way. She seemed awfully proud of herself. "That went alright, didn't it?"
"You were incredible," Emery said. "That was above and beyond, darling."
Loretta beamed and folded her arms. "Told you it was nothin'. You got anything else like this you want me to do?"
Emery chuckled. "No, but I'll definitely keep you in mind if that changes."
"What took you so long, anyway?" Victor demanded.
Loretta shrugged. "Had to seal the deal, didn't I? It'd be awfully suspicious to walk out in the middle of something like that."
Emery frowned and shared a sidelong glance with Victor. "What exactly do you mean by 'seal the deal'? You didn't…have sex with him, did you?"
Loretta scoffed throatily and swiped a hand at him. "Naw, love, give me a little credit. Just noshed him off in the loo is all."
Victor bit his tongue to hold off a laugh at Emery's utterly scandalized face. He slapped a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "Now that's dedication."
Emery sneered at him before shaking his hand off and clearing his throat. "Uh, Loretta, you…well you performed admirably. I suppose I owe you a payment, don't I?"
Loretta looked around for prying eyes before stepping closer. "I reckon you mentioned it, yeah."
Emery reached into his inner coat pocket and began digging around, pausing. "Was it two thousand?"
"That's what you'd said," Loretta affirmed.
"Well…here," Emery said, setting a stack of cash in her hand. "Take five."
She looked down with a dropping jaw, staring at the money. "Five? But…why? You'd only said two. A-and really, all I did was distract a bloke, I mean I-I didn't…"
He looked at her seriously. "It's nothing to a man like me, Loretta. You're worth more than that anyway."
She blinked at him wordlessly.
"Just do me one favor."
"What?"
Emery glanced down at the money. "Use it to take a few nights off from all this."
Loretta's eyes scanned his two companions before landing back on him. Then she smiled, leaning forward and clutching his small frame in a tight hug. "You're a regular white knight, Emery!"
Emery awkwardly attempted to extricate himself from his position crushed against her breasts and smirked. "Thanks. Now if you don't mind, I'm off to rescue a prince."
Loretta reached into her clutch purse and dug around quickly before producing a card. "Here. My cell number. You'll call me if you ever need a favor, won't you?"
Emery took it and tucked it away into a pocket. "Bet on it. You take care of yourself, alright?"
"I always do," she replied. Then she smiled again, offered Victor a sly wink, and wandered off into the night. He only watched her ass for like, three seconds as she left.
"That was rather generous on your part," Georgie said evenly, making it unclear whether or not she approved.
"She earned it," was all Emery said. He invited no further discussion, sticking his hands into his pockets and moving down the street back towards the car. Victor raised his eyebrows as Georgie's gaze lingered on him shiftily.
"What?" Victor asked, straightening up.
"I'm just wondering what in the hell my sexuality had to do with your situation in there."
Victor stared at her for a long moment. "Don't recall mentioning it. You must be hearing things." Victor tugged at his ear and swiftly turned off to follow Emery down the street.
* * *
Surveillance was still rather low on Emery's list of favorite tasks, but with the ability to pause what he was seeing, take breaks, and work in shifts with two other people, it was a far less vexing thing than he was used to. He'd just finished watching Frederick Malcom have a very uneventful lunch before Victor offered to take over. He smiled gratefully as Victor patte
d his shoulder and he stood, rubbing his stiff neck while the other man plopped down. Emery sat at the other end of the table with his spider box clutched in his hands. The animal gradually moved to one side in order to sponge the heat of his hand that was leaking in. Emery watched one black leg rise up and press a foot against the side of the glass, at which he frowned and mirrored the action with the pad of his finger, when a plate was suddenly set down in front of him. Hash.
Georgie looked down on him. "Thought maybe you could use something. Your appetite resembles Fidget's here a bit too much."
Emery looked at the microwaved plate of food and felt a weak pulse of hunger. "Suppose I could eat. Thanks."
Georgie took her own plate and sat down next to him cross-legged in a chair. Another plate had been set next to Victor, who surprisingly didn't complain this time and merely began shoveling gobs of it into his mouth as he stared intently into his computer screen. Georgie watched him with an expression of slight distaste before turning back to Emery. "Nothing yet I'm afraid."
"It's only a few hours in. I'm sure something will come up," Emery said, poking at his food. "Did you make this?"
"It's from a tin," she admitted with a small bite. "I haven't got much time in my life for things like proper groceries, as you might imagine."
"I might."
"I used to be rather domestic, actually. Bit of a shame I've let it all go to this." Georgie indicated her immaculate flat with a long glance and Emery wondered what she must've been like at her finest if this was letting things go downhill.
"Naw, this is great. Not much of a cook myself—I'd've burnt it. We really do appreciate your hospitality. …Whether or not we're both inclined to show it."
Georgie's eyes flickered to Victor before returning. "It's no trouble. You boys help me pull off this job and we'll be quite even."
Emery thought for a moment about what Victor had said. Even if she was under orders to do so, he supposed it was true that her eagerness to accept their help was a little odd. It wasn't as if she could be sure that they were trustworthy or even competent. "Why is it that you're so keen on this business being over with?"
Georgie swallowed her food. "You follow that slimy wanker around London all your days and then tell me you wouldn't prefer anything else."