On the Prowl

by Matt Lincoln

  I moved to the other end of the couch and crouched down, pushing my weight against the couch in order to push it up and onto the bed of the truck. The legs of the couch made an unpleasant, harsh scraping sound as they dragged against the metal bed of the truck, and I jumped a little at how loud the sound was against the quiet of the night. Once the couch was completely off the ground, I jumped into the bed of the truck and pulled it from the other end, so it was flush against the rear window of the cab.

  I jumped down and closed the tailgate, feeling exhausted after the impromptu workout session, but accomplished. I climbed back into the cab and started driving the rest of the way back to my apartment, vaguely noting the slight difference in the feel of the truck now that it was carrying such a heavy weight.

  It wasn’t until I was pulling up to my building that it occurred to me that I still had to get the couch up a flight of stairs to my apartment. I groaned as I pulled into my spot, my sense of accomplishment fading as I began to calculate the most efficient way to get the couch upstairs.

  Getting the couch off the truck was a much simpler matter than getting it on, as all I had to do was shove it off. I realized as I did that, I was probably damaging it, but for a free couch plucked off the side of the road, it didn’t overly concern me. I decided the best way to get it up the stairs would be to turn it on its back, which was also covered in smooth, worn leather, and slide it up.

  I kept it right-side-up as I alternated pushing and pulling it across the small parking lot and up to the base of the exterior staircase, trying my best to minimize any damage to the actual body of the couch as I could. Once I was at the base of the staircase, I tilted the couch over onto its back, relieved when I saw that it fit snugly between the handrails of the stairs.

  I began pushing the couch up the stairs, and, to my relief, it slid up fairly smoothly, although I could hear the leather occasionally snagging and scratching at the edges of the steps. Sure, I didn’t mind some damage, but I didn’t want my apartment to look like I furnished it with trash either. I resolved to push the couch against a wall so that the back wouldn’t be visible, and that way, no one would be any the wiser.

  That being said, it wasn’t like I needed to be particularly concerned about anyone seeing it, to begin with. My meetings with Chrys tended to be rushed affairs that took place predominantly in the center of the city. She probably wouldn’t be around to my apartment any time soon. Furthermore, having just moved here, I didn’t have any friends to speak of, both by circumstance and choice.

  I wasn’t good at making friends, and, to be completely honest, I didn’t really enjoy being around other people in general. I’d experienced a lot of betrayal and duplicity in my life, and for the most part, I preferred keeping to myself. The one exception to that rule was Harry, who, despite my best efforts, had wormed his way into my life and ultimately won his place there.

  I huffed as I ascended the final step onto my floor, feeling grateful I only lived one floor up as I wiped the sweat off my brow. The autumn night air was brisk, and while the sweater and leather jacket I was currently wearing had felt comfortable in the car, they felt suffocating and uncomfortably sticky now over the thin layer of sweat I had worked up shoving the couch up the stairs.

  I didn’t want to allow myself any time to rest, however, as I knew that it would only be harder to get the couch through the door and into my apartment if I let my muscles cool down first. Taking only a moment to stretch as I unlocked and pushed open the door to my apartment, I immediately got back to work, pushing and dragging the couch through the outside corridor and through the door of my unit.

  Once the couch and I were both safely inside, I allowed myself to relax a little, leaning against the front door. I shrugged off my jacket and peeled off the thin sweater, so I was left only in my undershirt and reveled in how nice the cool night air felt against my sore muscles. I moved into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, flipping on the light switch as I made my way there.

  I took a moment to admire my apartment as I sipped my water. It still looked overly empty and was still just a small, unimpressive box on the outskirts of Las Vegas, but at least now it had somewhere for me to sleep. In the end, the couch had turned out to be incredibly comfortable. Although it was clearly worn in and well-used, the quality seemed solid, as the leather was still soft and supple. It wasn’t a bed, but it was certainly leagues better than a blanket on the floor.

  I was really lucky that Harry had chosen to gift me the truck, as, without it, I would have had no way to haul the couch to my apartment. The thought reminded me that I still hadn’t called Harry, and I felt another wave of guilt wash over me. I really didn’t deserve the amount of time and effort he put into me.

  I resolved to call him today on a break or after work. It was way too early to do it now before the sun was even up, and ever since his retirement, Harry had preferred sleeping in until late in the morning and staying up late so he could watch the stars. There was very little light pollution up in Mount Charleston, so it was an ideal place to look at the sky, or so Harry told me.

  Personally, the idea of sitting in a rocking chair and staring up at the stars, the way Harry did, sounded mind-numbingly boring to me. I much preferred watching television, or reading, or even going out and doing something, as much as I disliked being around other people. My brain was just too active, and I needed to have something to focus on or puzzle through.

  I considered trying to go back to sleep, but my brain was already too alert, so instead, I got up and moved into the kitchen to find something for breakfast. As I had left the majority of my things behind and hadn’t had a chance to go grocery shopping yet, my options were limited to a couple of bags of potato chips, a packet of beef jerky, and some cans of soda I’d bought halfway through my trip up here as snacks for the road. Not the most healthy or nutritious of breakfasts, especially for my first day at a new job, but at least the caffeine from the soda would provide some energy.

  I fell back onto the couch, as I still didn’t have a table or chair, and began to scroll through my phone, as I hadn’t yet set up my TV. I was a little worried I’d be groggy for my first day, up so early and with nothing to eat but junk food, but all in all, it wasn’t so bad to sit here in the dark as the first pink and orange rays of the sun cast shadows into my apartment. The early morning air was cool and quiet, and the calmness reminded me of a little of Elko.

  5

  Charlie

  I kept my cool as the driver of a bright red Prius swerved around me, rolling his window down to flip me off as he passed, shouting something that I couldn’t quite make out but which I was certain were not pleasant words. Any fears I’d harbored that I would feel too groggy or sleepy on my first day had evaporated quickly as I took to the streets of downtown Las Vegas. Regardless of what I did or how I drove, it seemed like I couldn’t go a single mile without deeply offending someone.

  Regardless, it didn’t intimidate me. I’d been face to face with death and found myself in situations I genuinely believed I would not survive more times as a teenager than most people would in their entire lives. Not that I would wish such experiences on other people. I only meant that, after surviving being almost run over by a freight train or looking down the barrel of a gun, a middle-aged businessman wearing a suit was hardly going to scare me.

  That being said, I’d be lying if I claimed not to be stressed out by Las Vegas traffic. If the aggressive drivers weren’t bad enough, I also had unfamiliar streets to contend with. In Elko, the streets were quiet, and drivers didn’t seem to be in such a rush to get anywhere. Since the roads in Las Vegas were so wide, I often had to cut across several lanes of traffic in order not to miss my exit and, okay, maybe that’s why people were getting so angry at me, but what was I supposed to do? Using my turn signals didn’t seem to do much, and in fact, some drivers seemed to take that as a challenge to prevent me from switching lanes. Once I got more familiar with the commute, I’d be able to work out a more cohes
ive way to work, but until then, my only choice was to force my way in when I could.

  Despite having woken up early and setting out with plenty of time to spare, I made it to the office only a few minutes before I was due to arrive. The building was located along Main Street, a few blocks away from the strip, and surrounded by enormous buildings housing hotels, casinos, and other businesses. I couldn’t help but look around in awe. It was a completely different world from the one I’d come from, although it did remind me a little of New York City, where I’d spent a brief stint of time after leaving home at eighteen. During the day, the buildings didn’t look that much different from the skyscrapers one would see at any other major metropolitan city in the United States, but I knew at night everything along this street, and in fact for a few miles, would come alive with dazzling light and cacophonous sound, music, voices, and street noise all mingling together.

  I shook myself out of my thoughts and turned back toward the task at hand. The building MBLIS’s Las Vegas branch was in was a former hotel that had been renovated and turned into a commercial building. This came with the added benefit that it had an underground parking garage, originally meant for guests of the hotel, but which could now be used for employees working in the building. I was grateful for this, as I knew from research that parking space in Las Vegas was limited, and it wasn’t unusual for people to have to park their cars in a parking garage and then walk to their place of employment.

  I drove around the building toward the back, where the entrance to the parking deck was located. There was a booth for an attendant, but no one was in it. Instead, I held a small card that MBLIS had provided me against a card scanner installed by the entrance. After a few moments, the light on the scanner turned green, and it emitted a high pitched tone as the boom gate lifted and allowed me entrance into the underground deck.

  I chose a secluded spot in the corner of the lowest floor, away from where any other cars had parked. Not necessarily to avoid damage to my truck, which I did try to take care of, being a gift from Harry, but more out of the mere habit of avoiding other people. I knew that wasn’t a good attitude to have, and I knew that it was something I was very rapidly going to have to change, considering I was now employed with an agency where I would be presumably working with several people. With that thought resolutely in mind, I steeled myself and exited the car, making my way toward the elevator at the far end of the deck.

  At the elevator, I once again needed to scan my card before I could enter. The elevator itself was large and mirrored on all sides, and I was once again reminded that this building used to be a hotel. There was a thick, dark red plush carpet on the floor of the elevator, and the floor buttons and banisters around the edge of the walls were all a shiny gold color. It was a little ostentatious, as was much of the rest of Las Vegas, but I didn’t mind it. It made me feel I was a secret agent in a movie, going on some grand adventure in a luxury hotel.

  I looked at my reflection in one of the mirrored walls, which looked back at me hundreds of times, as the mirror effect created several repetitions of my reflection that became almost dizzying if I looked for too long. I was wearing a black suit and a black tie over a dark gray collared shirt. A little boring and not my usual style of leather and denim, but I definitely preferred it over the stuffy police uniform I used to wear in Elko. I wondered if I could get away with incorporating some more personal elements into my work wardrobe. First, I’d have to see what the work environment was like, I guessed.

  I had combed my brown hair in a simple style, longer on the top than on the sides, and brushed so that it fell to the right. There was a bit of curl to it, especially at the front where it was longest, and I had considered cutting it before coming to Las Vegas but decided against it. My hair became curlier the longer it got, and while I was no longer wearing it to my shoulders as I had sometimes done in my youth, I still liked to let it grow out a little. I didn’t want to lose every bit of my personality, after all.

  Now though, I wondered if I looked a little too childish. I wanted to people to take me seriously as an agent and would hate for my hairstyle, of all things, to why people didn’t take me seriously.

  In any case, it was too late to worry about that now, as the elevator chimed as I arrived at the eighteenth floor of the building where MBLIS’s office was located. I stepped through the open doors of the elevator and into a small reception area, where a severe-looking woman with intense blue eyes and black hair in a tightly pulled bun was sitting behind a large wooden desk. She looked up at me as I approached and offered me a warm smile that seemed very at odds with the rest of her appearance.

  “Can I help you?” she asked with a heavily accented voice. Russian was my immediate guess, but I couldn’t be quite sure. Her voice, too, seemed as friendly and inviting as her smile.

  “I’m Charlie Hills. I’m supposed to be starting today as an agent,” I said, for a moment wondering if I’d gotten off on the wrong floor as she didn’t seem to be expecting me.

  Her eyes lit up, though, as if she had suddenly remembered something.

  “Ah, yes,” she said, rustling through some papers on her desk and then clicking something on her computer. “I am sorry. I forgot there were two new hires coming in today. After Agent Chapman arrived, I completely switched to a different task.” She seemed to be speaking more to herself than to me as she continued to look through her desk. Finally, it seemed as though she found whatever it was she was looking for as she pulled a manila envelope out of a drawer in her desk with a triumphant “aha!” and handed it to me. “Go ahead, go right in, past those doors into the main office.” She stood and stepped around her desk to point me in the right direction.

  After that, she offered me another smile and sat back down. I nodded and offered her a simple “thank you,” a little surprised by her unexpectedly friendly demeanor, but she was already back to work typing something on her computer, the intimidating scowl she had been wearing when I first walked in back in place over her features. I glanced at her name tag, which read Svetlana, and I wondered if that was her first or last name.

  As I pushed open the set of double doors she’d directed me toward, I could hear laughter coming from the room on the other side. The main office area was huge, and the left wall consisted entirely of floor to ceiling windows. From where I was standing, I could make out the tops of other buildings in the distance, and I thought that the view must be incredible at night. Immediately to the left of the doors was a small room with a sitting area consisting of comfortable-looking couches and chairs placed around a fuzzy rug decorated with a blue and cream-colored geometric pattern. There were a water cooler and coffee machine placed on a table against the wall, as well as a bowl of what looked like candy sitting in the middle of a small table in the center of the ring of couches. I couldn’t see the left half of the room from my position by the door, but it looked as though there might be some cabinets and a microwave as well. To my right, I could see doors all along the wall which I assumed led to small offices or other rooms, and at the far end of the floor, I could see a large, windowed office that I assumed belonged to the director.

  I made my way further into the room toward a group of desks where I could see several people sitting around and talking, and I realized this was where the laughter had come from.

  “I mean, it totally suits you! With that baby face and clean-cut hairstyle, I mean.” The woman speaking was leaning back against her chair so far it seemed like it might fall over, and although I had worried that my hair would make me stand out, it felt absolutely ordinary in comparison to the woman in front of me. She wore her hair pulled into a long and high ponytail, which came down over her shoulder and fanned out in wide, loose curls. Although the top third of her hair was black, the ends and middle portion were a bright, shocking platinum silver, with wisps of blue shining through. “And anyway, your mama was right. That is a much cuter name than Arnold.”

  The young man she was talking to was blushing, but he
was also smiling and seemed to be trying not to laugh as well.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he started to say right as I entered the bullpen, and the woman turned her attention away from the young man and onto me.

  There was a playful, if somewhat predatory, glint in her eyes, and I felt myself grow a little more nervous as she smirked at me and said, “Hey, who’s the new guy?”

  I saw every eye in the room turn to me, and I felt a jolt of irritation at her. I didn’t particularly like socializing on a normal day, and I certainly didn’t enjoy being the center of all of my coworker’s attention, at the same time, on my first day. As if sensing my growing trepidation, one of the people seated around the group of desks stood up and, with the help of a cane, approached me.

  “Hey, Agent Hills, it’s good to see you again,” he said, offering me a warm smile that reminded me of the receptionist’s and extending his hand in greeting. It was Agent Nelson, the person I’d been speaking to on the phone about the job and the one I had interviewed with, as well. He was a friendly man who I would have guessed to be in his early forties, with short black hair. He was thin to the point of looking frail, and the first time I’d shaken his hand, I’d felt like his fingers might break if I squeezed too hard. “Of course, we already met, but please allow me to introduce you to the rest of the staff since we’re mostly all gathered here, anyway. This is Agent Miranda Castillo.” He gestured toward the woman who had addressed me earlier.