“You need me to show ya a
little West side skill?”
“Wot r yu tokng bout Melaka?” The
words are distorted as the barrel pushes harder into his face,
makes an indentation as it slips between the gap of his upper and
lower molars. A layer of greasy residue clinging to the metal,
smears into his cheek- a physical reminder of the wholesomeness
of the warrens of Haddyn.
“I know you’re not trying to
stiff me. That would just be toy.” Melaka rotates her shoulder,
elbow pointing out sharply as she digs the weapon
harder,screwing it painfully into his face. ”I know you just
misplaced those meds, not tryin’ to sell ‘em again and keep my
coi. That’d be su-i-cide.”
Hands rise in surrender, point
to a pouch that grows from the sagging skin of his abdomen. “Ter,
ter. Iss ter.”
Suspicious glare out of the corner of her eye,
and she takes in the profile of domed forehead and waddle of
loose skin flapping at his throat, doesn’t break the metal’s
contact as her other hand seeks an opening. Fingers
seeking purchase with an intimacy she never wanted to experience.
Slight grimace of distaste as she finds a hole and shoves her
hand in.
There is a surprised wheeze at her
intrusion.
“Don’t get too excited,” she warns, voice flat as
she concentrates with dogged focus on her business. “You better
be tellin’ the truth, cause I’m coming out of here with
somethin’. If it’s a piece of you, that’s how it’ll lay
down.”
“Iss ter,” he repeats in panic, eyes skipping around
the landscape, looking for just one of his people-a bodyguard, a
runner-anything. There’s no one, at least no one visible and
prepared to take on Melaka Fray. Not surprising, no one in the
warrens wants to make themselves a target.
Her fingers touch
a packet, and curl around it, take it into the protection of her
fist as she pulls her arm out, a long column of muscle and bone
reappearing from the wrinkled opening. She lifts the square of
creased foil up for inspection, flips one corner of it open with
the thumb of the same hand that holds it.
The pills are
there. Tiny, hard discs of normalcy that she’s gone through
so much effort to get. Small compressed bits of a cure that go
for 25 coi a pill-if you’re not willing to call in a favor or
two.
“All this bullshit red tape has made me late for a grab,
which makes me want to unload this cartridge right now. Give me a
reason why I shouldn’t?” She waits a full three seconds, weighing
the satisfaction of never having to see that quiver of neck fat
that wobbles when he talks.
Three seconds of everyday sound,
the lives of people who probably won’t miss the loss of this one.
Three seconds of mildly interested glances from people mired down
in the oppression of their own problems. She wonders how many
will turn in curiosity at the sound of her weapon’s
discharge.
“Itll atrct atttntn,” the pressure she’s applying
flattens his words, but she can still hear the bargaining tone,
he’s used to that-but from the other side. It’s probably hard for
him to switch places.
“Maybe,” she wonders out loud,
pocketing the foil packet. “But I could probably be out of here
in the time it takes someone to walk over here to check
your body.” Raises her elbow higher, changes the trajectory of
any potential release of her trigger finger, and tries not to
smile at the obvious beads of sweat that break out along the
surface of his spotted head. Little drops of moisture that clings
to the occasional wiry follicle of hair.
“Yll hve to fin
nothr srce fer pils.”
“That’s true,” she agrees, thinking out
loud. “I want to deal with another scumbag like I want to play
strip toxo with a radie like you.” She pulls the weapon away, and
holsters it impatiently, already calculating the time it
will
take to get back to Versi.
He rubs his cheek with the
back of his hand, voice and eyes similar in attitude as he
accuses, “It’s not worth it for me to try and hold out on you.
You’re crazy.”
With a slight flourish of her hand, a twist
of the wrist, she holds up one of the pills pinched between thumb
and forefinger. “I’m not crazy, ‘cause I take the right pills.”
Feral little grin, and she pops the tablet under her
tongue.
“That will mess you up Fray. Keep it up and you’ll
find yerself a whoring pump down on the Southside.”
She
raises her chin, looks down on this one trying to lecture her about
how to live a clean life and stifles the bitter snort that
surfaces. “And I’m sure you’ll be crying every night over it,
won’t you?”
“Just some advice between business associates,”
he says, stepping back with hands raised
defensively.
*You’re* trying to give me advise on how to live
clean? *That’s* a good one.”
A chalky lump of grit sits under
her tongue as the med dissolves. She’s glad the grab she told him
about was a lie, because she can feel the heaviness settling over
her limbs. He’s given her the real thing, not tried to pass
off some rat poison that won’t be discovered until he’s long
gone.
“Why do you always try it out?”
“Cause I don’t
trust you.”
“What if I tried to poison you?” He asks with a
mixture of disbelief and grudging awe. He’s not obvious about any
intentions; he’s survived this long by being cautious.
“Then I’d have about thirty seconds to kill you before I
dropped dead. I think that’s more than enough time.” She salutes
him as she walks away, twists around and turns her back to
him-the obvious statement of confidence in
herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The tavern’s busy
tonight, full of faces she knows, and some she wishes she didn’t.
She spares a brief, but wary eye as she threads herself through
the tables, and makes her way to the bar.
Doesn’t even
have to open her mouth, and the glass is set there. She never
has to ask. She picks it up, raises it to her lips and takes her
first swallow as she slides the packet of pills across the
surface of the counter.
Lacey sighs tiredly, the corners of
her mouth slumping down, and she picks it up, tucks it into her
apron. She’s a proud woman, and gratitude is hard for her to get
past the frown her past has given her. She slides another glass next
to the wet circle the first has left on the counter. Someone down
on the other end signals her, and she limps over to take his
order.
Maleka swishes the alcohol around, trying to get the
bitter, gritty residue out of her
mouth.