Blowback

by James P. Sumner

  “Go on…”

  “Maybe… working together?” She moves away. Sits back on her heels again. “I mean, if people knew I was working with you, I would get way more job offers! Plus, your name would justify charging more money. That way, I would be earning my own way in no time! Obviously, you would get a cut. I was thinking maybe fifteen percent? But I’d definitely feel better about things if I was earning good money, y’know? It would really… are you okay? You look kinda pale.”

  I’m staring blankly ahead. For some reason, I’m trying desperately to remember the lyrics to a song I heard a while back. Or the final score of the basketball game I caught some of the other day. Anything, really, except what just happened.

  I turn to her. Nod. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Fifteen percent. That works for me. Gonna be great teaming up.”

  She claps excitedly and springs to her feet. “You won’t regret it! This is gonna be so cool—it’s been forever since we worked together! I’ll get us a job first thing in the morning.”

  She disappears back upstairs. I’m left alone on the sofa, taking deep breaths.

  I hate her.

  7

  20:17 JST

  After our heart-to-heart earlier, Ruby suggested we celebrate our newfound working arrangement by going out tonight. I thought she meant for drinks, but it turns out there’s a street racing meet somewhere—which is a cultural phenomenon consisting of fast, over-priced, tricked-out cars, young people, and loud music. It’s not exactly legal, but it’s well-organized. A haven for Yakuza activity too.

  Sounds like my idea of hell, if I’m honest. But it’s very much Ruby’s scene, and she’s excited, so I figure it won’t kill me to step outside my comfort zone. Consequently, she’s spent the last hour and a half in the bathroom, preparing for tonight. I’m standing in my room, staring at my closet, wondering what to wear.

  I spend way too much time with her.

  It’s not as if I’ll be out of place. I’m hardly a stranger to any aspect of the criminal underworld. But I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself. It’s risky for me going to any gathering involving people and business of a questionable nature because I’m inviting the world to see me, remember me, and ultimately link me to something that might happen later. I need to blend in.

  Unfortunately, I’m not a twenty-something street racer with a sense of fashion. I’m a forty-seven-year-old semi-retired hitman, and unsurprisingly, I dress as such. I may as well show up ringing a bell and wearing an A-board that says, “I’m going to kill you!”

  I let out a deep, weary breath.

  “Got nothing that matches your new shoes and make-up?”

  I roll my eyes and glance over my shoulder. Ruby’s leaning against my doorframe, apparently fresh out of the shower. She has a towel wrapped around her, and she’s dripping on the carpet. There’s a wry smile etched on her face.

  I look back at my closet. “I just want to do this right. Get the right look, y’know? I don’t want to show you up or anything.”

  I hear her padding toward me. A moment later, she’s by my side. “You’re cute, do you know that?”

  I shrug. “Yeah…”

  “Asshole,” she says, laughing. “Go casual. Jeans. T-shirt. Sneakers. You’ll be fine.”

  “What makes you so sure? Go to a lot of street racing gatherings, do you?”

  She shrugs. “I’ve been to more than you. Trust me.”

  “Uh-huh. And what are you wearing tonight?”

  She turns to me. Grins. Pinches my cheek with a damp hand. “Something that’s gonna stop traffic.”

  “Well, given where we're going, that sounds very counter-productive, if you ask me.”

  She pinches my cheek like an auntie embarrassing her favorite nephew before leaving my room smiling.

  I continue staring at my less-than-diverse collection of clothing and sigh.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  20:45 JST

  I took Ruby’s advice. Plain black T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and white sneakers. My brown leather jacket is unfastened, although I suspect it’ll be freezing when we step outside, so that might change. It’s looking a little worse for wear nowadays. But then, aren’t we all? I love this jacket. I’ve had it a long time, and it’s seen a lot of shit. Can’t bring myself to replace it.

  Beneath it is a shoulder holster, strapped tightly to the left side of my torso, just below my armpit. Cradled inside it is my gun—a custom Smith and Wesson SW1911. The barrel and frame are stainless steel. The grip has a laminated wooden finish, engraved with a yin-yang symbol. I thought that was more prudent than a devil, now that I have opposing voices of reason.

  I’ve added a two-inch extension to the barrel, making it seven inches in total. It adds a couple of grams to the overall weight, but the resulting boost in accuracy is off the charts. Plus, it looks all kinds of badass.

  As much as I loved my twin Berettas, I found the combined weight of them in the holster at my lower back was taking its toll. I’m trying to stay healthy, and wearing something that was damaging my long-term mobility wasn’t a smart choice. The shoulder holster works very well, and having a single gun makes moving around much easier. The only downside is that I moved from having two nineteen-round guns to having one nine-round gun. That’s a serious drop in ammo capacity. Luckily, I don’t use it that often anymore, and not having to carry two weapons around with me means I have room to carry a couple of spare magazines and a suppressor, so it’s not all bad, I guess.

  I’m standing by the elevator, waiting for Ruby. Pacing back and forth in front of the doors. I’m a naturally restless and impatient person. I hate waiting around for anything. If there’s somewhere I need to go, or something I need to do, I’d rather just do it.

  I turn as I hear the clacking of Ruby’s heels on the stairs. I see her shoes first as she descends slowly. Then her legs. Then—

  Holy…

  …

  …

  …

  …shit.

  She’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking at me. She’s wearing a dress. It’s black, with a white stripe running up each side. It has a strap over one shoulder, and it’s clinging to every inch of her body in just the right way to show off her impressive figure. It’s long enough that it covers her underwear, although if I were her, I’d be careful bending down for anything. It has a high enough neckline that it doesn’t show any cleavage, but I’m guessing she’s wearing one of those bras underneath that pushes everything together, because the twins look a lot bigger than they did an hour ago. Her legs look deceptively long, probably because of the black heels she’s wearing. The whole outfit makes her look as tall as I am, even though she’s about five inches shorter. To finish the look off, she has a small black bag with a long gold chain resting over the shoulder that’s not covered by the dress.

  She glances at the floor. Shimmies her dress down a little, for all the good it does. She brushes her hair behind her ear and looks back at me patiently. Perhaps expectantly, like she’s waiting for me to say something. But, honestly, I don’t have any words for how amazing she looks. In fact, I’ve just realized… I’m not even breathing!

  I gasp in a quick breath and shake my head, cursing myself for staring.

  She looks… incredible . Never mind stopping traffic—she’ll stop hearts walking down the street looking like that! And I stand by what I said before. Ruby and I… it’s purely platonic. Mostly. I’m not saying I don’t look at her and see the appeal, but I don’t have any feelings toward her beyond friendship.

  At least, I’m pretty sure I don’t.

  The life we have, co-habiting together, suits us both just fine. Sure, she flirts a little. Okay, a lot . And by flirting, I mean she often wanders around naked just for the sheer amusement she gets from making me feel uncomfortable. But that’s just her. That’s how she’s always been, and honestly, I barely notice it anymore. I’m—

  Bullshit.

  What? It’s true.


  As your own personal devil, I’m fully qualified to call bullshit on everything you just said.

  Screw you. Josh, back me up here, man.

  I hear his hearty, British chuckle echoing through my mind. It brings a brief smile to my face.

  I agree with Satan. You barely notice when a beautiful woman walks past you, naked? Bullshit, mate!

  Great. I have two voices in my head, and if that wasn’t enough to make me sound crazy, I’m being bullied by the pair of them!

  I’ve been standing here a while. So has Ruby.

  Yeah… I should say something.

  I run a hand over my head. “You, ah… you’re gonna freeze going out in that, y’know?”

  …

  …

  …

  I swear I just heard the slap of both my inner voices face-palming themselves.

  She smiles and walks over to me. The sound of her heels on the floor resonates around the apartment. She stops beside me and kisses my cheek. “The whole time when you weren’t talking was a much bigger compliment, but I appreciate the effort.”

  She moves past me and hits the call button for the elevator. I close my eyes briefly and smile to myself before joining her.

  I glance sideways. “Seriously, Ruby, you’re going to freeze out there without a jacket or something.”

  She shrugs. “Surely, you would offer me yours if I got too cold?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Would you want it?”

  She looks me up and down before pinching the material of the sleeve and rubbing her thumb over it. After a moment, she shakes her head. “I’d rather have hypothermia.”

  “Gee, thanks!”

  The doors slide open and we both step inside. She hits the button for the first floor, and the doors glide gently together again.

  She looks at me. “Tomorrow, we’re going shopping. You need a better wardrobe.”

  I roll my eyes but say nothing. We both smile as a relaxed silence descends.

  …

  …

  …

  Hang on a second.

  I turn to her. “There’s no way you’ve fit your gun in that purse…”

  She shakes her head. “No, I haven’t.”

  “And there’s no way you’re not packing…”

  She nods. “Correct.”

  I look her up and down. Scratch the back of my head. “Uh…”

  She throws her head back and laughs. “Assuming there’s no drama tonight, you’ll never find out where I’m carrying it.” She shrugs. “Then again, if you’re lucky… maybe I’ll show you anyway.”

  I stare ahead. “God help me.”

  8

  21:28 JST

  The raucous atmosphere is intoxicating, if a little overwhelming. The roar of expensive engines competes with the bassline thumping from the speakers at the DJ station. Portable floodlights bathe the scene in a near-white fluorescence. There must be a couple of thousand people here, easily, all drinking and dancing and laughing, admiring the cars… and the people driving them. Guys are leaning casually against their vehicles, surrounded by women as if they’re celebrities. And it’s the same with the women. The female drivers I’ve seen are lapping up the attention from interested men.

  It’s all a little over-the-top for my liking.

  We’re roughly fourteen kilometers south of Chiyoda, in the Shinigawa ward. The meeting place is a wide storm drain, sunk between two freeways. It acts as an overflow conduit for excess rain to prevent flooding. Not sure how much use it gets here, at least in the meteorological sense.

  It’s getting some use tonight.

  One of the girls serving drinks explained that the race circuit leads out of here, across the street into the stadium that hosts dirt bike racing, once around that and back out, over the bridge, along the freeway adjacent to the river, and back down into this overflow road.

  Sounds exhausting, if you ask me.

  Ruby’s loving it, walking around as if it’s her home away from home. Her aim to stop traffic seems to be working too, which I’m sure she’s happy about. Most guys we’ve seen while navigating the crowds have almost broken their own necks turning to look at her as we walked past.

  We both have our Pilots in our ears and our Ilis on standby. Both have a drink. I tell you, regardless of it not being my thing, this event is well put-together. Shame it’s illegal. People could make a fortune for promoting things like this.

  Ruby nudges my arm. “You okay?”

  I nod back. “Yeah. Just taking it all in. You?”

  “I love this place!”

  I smile. “I bet you do.”

  She pinches my cheek. Gently slaps it. Then skips ahead, kind of half-dancing to herself in her own little world. I shake my head in the way a parent does when looking at their child as they enjoy themselves in a way you can’t understand.

  I’m just happy she’s happy, I guess.

  I should try to make the most of the night. The music’s not to my taste, but it’s a good atmosphere. Full of positive vibes. At the risk of sounding like an old man, it’s good that so many young people can still come together and enjoy themselves in a world so devoid of goodness. Everything we have endured in recent years, yet here I am, surrounded by some of the happiest-looking people I’ve seen in a long time, giving a collective fuck you to the world and all its shit. There’s something admirable about that.

  I move into the crowd, twisting my body to thread myself through the narrow gaps between people, aimlessly wandering until I find somewhere to get another drink. This bottle’s nearly done.

  I break through the crowd and come to what probably passes as the pit lane at these things. I count ten cars in a line, each with their hoods and trunks open, engines running. A shiny red Mitsubishi Evolution with white decals catches my eye. Resting against the driver’s door is a guy wearing board shorts and a pullover hoodie. His arms are folded across his chest. He has a woman on either side of him, linking him, laughing.

  He’s maybe twenty-five. He’s just a kid, yet he looks like a king. I imagine a lot of men would be jealous of him. Personally, I don’t see why anyone would want that much attention drawn to them.

  I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around to see Ruby, grinning, dancing on the spot, having the time of her life.

  “Having fun?” she asks.

  I smile. “Sure.”

  She stops dancing. Tilts her head slightly. “You hate this, don’t you?”

  I laugh. “No, I don’t. I promise. I just… I guess I just don’t understand it. Take this guy, for example.” I gesture to the Mitsubishi driver. “I don’t see the appeal of making an attraction out of yourself like that.”

  Ruby looks at him. Her eyes light up.

  I frown. “What?”

  She smiles at me. “Lunchtime.”

  “Oh, seriously? He’s, like, young enough to be your son.”

  She scoffs. “So? A girl’s gotta eat. Maybe you should try having some fun every once in a while. Then you wouldn’t be so uptight all the time.”

  “Hey! I’m not uptight…”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Whatever.” I look over at the driver again. “He seems pre-occupied, anyway.”

  She moves close to me and traces a finger down my chest. “Yeah… how much would you care to bet I can occupy him better?”

  I look her up and down. A valid point.

  She sees me staring and smiles, then starts walking backward away from me. “You gotta believe it, Adrian. You gotta own it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go show those twenty-something, anorexic, wannabe pieces of arm candy how it’s really done.”

  She turns and struts away, gliding effortlessly through the crowd toward the Evo driver. She’s walking like a model, each step slightly crossing over the opposite leg. It’s as if she knows I’m looking. Which I’m not, by the way.

  Okay, maybe I am a little.

  Along with every other guy here.

  I have to hand it to
her—she knows how to work a crowd. She pushes to the front and walks straight toward him. I’m maybe fifty feet away, with a clear view of what’s happening. The two girls have stopped laughing. They’re looking at Ruby, their faces contorted with shock and disgust.

  Talk about territorial!

  She steps in close to him. Traces a finger over his shoulder.

  Poor guy. He has no idea.

  I see him shrug. Smile. Lean in close, whispering something to her.

  Oh yeah… he’s definitely interested.

  Ruby giggles exaggeratedly, then looks at the other girls in turn. Shoos them away with a condescending gesture. Their expressions haven’t changed, but they’re leaving.

  To be fair, I wouldn’t mess with Ruby, so I’m pretty sure they won’t.

  She takes him by the hand and moves him slightly away from the car. Then, keeping her legs straight, she leans forward and rests her arms on the door as she looks inside. He checks out her ass before doing the same, pointing at things, talking to her.

  Man, she’s good.

  Bet the guy can’t believe his luck. I mean, the two ladies who were with him before were attractive, but compared to Ruby, they’re—

  “Adrian?”

  Huh?

  I scan the crowd around me, confused.

  Could’ve sworn someone just said my name.

  I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  “Adrian?”

  I spin around. Holy shit…

  Mia!

  My eyes pop wide with involuntary surprise, and I immediately curse to myself over how badly I hid my reaction just then.

  What’s she doing here?

  She’s smiling awkwardly, wearing a similar outfit to what I saw her in last night at the bar.

  I need to be cool. Stop worrying about interacting with her.

  “Hey… Mia, right?”

  She nods. Her smile broadens, perhaps happy I remembered her. “Yeah. I didn’t expect to see you somewhere like this.”

  I shrug. “Yeah, it’s my first time. Thought I’d see what all the fuss was about, y’know? What about you? Come here often?” I momentarily close my eyes, cursing myself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your line…”