The men's room was a different world than he remembered, having spent a more than a few nights crumpled here on the floor in a puddle. The new air smelled like roses from the air fresheners and the tile was pristine and even, making a cute checkerboard pattern across the floor. He smirked in spite of himself as he carefully treaded across them.
"What the hell happened in here?" he asked aloud, hearing the echo and taking in a shadow of a reflection on the side of a stall. The new light fixtures looked like flowers made of embers and he shook his head in disbelief, saying, "Well, this is a surprise."
Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked at the wall where the sinks hung. The moldy stainless steel basins he remembered had been replaced with smooth porcelain and fixtures that glinted silver in the soft light. In place of the burnished metal plate that used to serve as a mirror, he saw his reflection in the real thing and it looked harsh.
"Damn, I look like shit," he mumbled as he stepped closer and regarded himself. He had aged a lot more than he realized in the past week and had dark bags under his eyes. "Gotta fix that."
He pulled the plastic grocery sack from the deep pocket of his jacket and sat it on the counter, trying not to look himself in the eyes because what he saw worried him. There was no way that he could look that bad and still be on top he reasoned, but now wasn't the time to start doubting. The warm water and scented soap made his skin tingle as he washed his hands and face, leaving sooty puddles along the counter and sink and he smiled as the cool air stung his face. Yes, things were starting to look up already and he pulled the stopper as he stepped back, abruptly aware of the silence. For someone who grew up in a screaming city, the water's gentle lapping was almost more tranquil than he could handle and it made him nervous so he started moving. Jacob pushed back and quickly walked down the length of the restroom, swinging each stall open to make sure he was alone. Once he was satisfied, he hurried back to the door and snapped the lock shut with a click. His watch said it was nearly game time and he pulled in a deep breath.
Jacob tore open the bag and pulled out a roll of duct tape, tearing off four sections with his teeth and sticking them to the edge of the mirror. Afterwards, he dropped his jacket into the floor and it hit with a wet slap, splattering the wall with grime. Heh, someone else can clean up once I'm finished he thought and kept going.
The two pistols in the rear of his waistband were heavier than he remembered and he carefully pulled them out and weighed them in a stack in his hands. Never having been comfortable with weapons, he had barely managed to pass the basic firearms exams at Meny but it was only a minor sore spot. He just preferred to use his wits instead of his fists and leave the fighting to others who were better suited. That had led him to being called a coward on more than one occasion, but he wasn't concerned what morons like Kick Murder Ops thought. Times like this, he wished he was a better fighter because he was the only one he could count on.
Jacob tried to pull back the slides at the same time, but they wouldn't budge and he clenched his teeth in frustration. "Oh yeah that helps, "the little voice said when he remembered to pull back the hammers first, allowing the slides to snap back easily. The sharp 'ka-ching' sound made him flinch and he looked around nervously and made sure he was still alone. He felt like he was still being watched, but shrugged it off. When he turned back, he saw that his hands were trembling and quickly put the weapons on the porcelain in front of him.
"I'm not cut out for this shit," he mumbled to his reflection, but the look it gave him sent a chill up his spine. The eyes were like those of an accusing stranger and he blew out his breath. What other choice did he have, he asked himself and the little voice answered with a "None at all."
Rushing, he picked up one of the pistols and two of the strips of tape and carefully taped it under the back of the sink. Once he was sure it would hold, he taped the other one to the inside of door to the second stall and looked around again, feeling conspicuous and exposed. He knew that he was increasing the chances of things getting bloody by doing this, but had to be prepared. God, he hated guns.
Maybe he could talk things out without violence, he mused and almost laughed at how naïve he'd have to be to accept that. Things had gone way too far for that and these weren't forgiving people. Once you're on their bad side, someone is going to bleed and he shuddered as he went back to the sink.
Jacob dug a third pistol from the bag, an 8mm DN, and sat it on the sink. The sound it made when he sat it down seemed hollow, unlike the 10 mm's that felt like real weapons. They'd be suspicious if he wasn't armed, so he had picked up this weapon just for this. On the bright side, he probably wouldn' t get this one back since these types always tried to keep whatever they lifted.
Ruffling through the bag, he pulled the rest of his gear out, setting the razor, new clothes, aftershave and a comb along the counter in a line. Shrugging out of his soiled shirt, he tossed it towards the garbage along with his pants, and then washed some of the goop out of his hair and off his shoulders. The cheap razor made quick work of the stubble, but the hand soap couldn't make much lather and he nicked himself painfully in several places.. Afterwards, the aftershave set the raw spots on fire, making him wince and he splashed more water onto them to kill the pain.
"Can't feel pain if you're dead," he laughed as he toweled off and shoved the old clothes into the garbage. His voice was bitter even to him and he forced a weak smile.
Once he had pulled on the new clothes, he combed his hair and stepped back to look at his work. In just a few minutes, he looked like a new man instead of a street dealer and smiled, liking what he saw.
"Badda-bing," he laughed at the mirror and remembered there was one more thing. Pulling out a shot of Solo, he stabbed it into his arm and felt the coolness spread up and across his chest. That gave him the boost he needed and he waited while his nerves fell into line and steadied. At least the shot would be in his system if things went sour, he thought but hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
Jacob pushed the sink's stopper down and leaned forward on his hands against the counter, staring again into the reflection's eyes from about an inch away. They were still hard and accusing, but there was also a hint of remorse. Yeah, he had done a lot of things that made him feel dirty, but it was something he should be used to by now.
"Now's not the time to get a conscience, Harm," he said to the reflection, but its eyes weren't about to back down. He turned and walked away to finish stuffing the gear into the can, but could still imagine the reflection glaring at him.
"Fuck you," he said aloud. "Now is NOT the time."
The door rattled twice and Jacob froze in place, one hand still in the garbage and the other reaching for the empty space in his back where the pistols had been. A moment later, someone hit it and the door rattled again.. It took a few moments for him to remember that he had locked it and he smiled, hearing his breathing start again.
"Harm?" a deep voice said. "Open this door, NOW boy!"
It was Bull's voice and Jacob smiled, enjoying its frustration. He could imagine the big man's eyes bugging out of his sockets and the veins popping as the thought of busting him into pieces went through his little mind.
"Find you dosin up in there, I'll pop your face-"
"-like an eggshell," Jacob finished for him under his breath. Bull really needed to get more lines to use because the old ones were getting old.
Casually, Jacob put the 8 mm in the back of his waistband, pulled his jacket on, and made sure the other pistols were out of sight. When he unlocked the door, it swung open so quickly that it clipped his knee and sent him stumbling. Bull was on him instantly with one of his massive forearms wedged under his chin and he was fighting to breathe.
"There some people here looking for you," he spat. "There better not be trouble in MY place."
"Your place?" Jacob choked out. With Bull's arm on his windpipe, talking was nearly impossible. "Thought it was Angela's."
"Whatever, motherfucker. If there's trouble, I'll do you myself. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah. I got it," Jacob said, not looking Bull in the eyes. He wasn't sure what the big man thought was going to happen here tonight, but then he hadn't thought Bull would have been smart enough to pick up on it either. Usually Jacob only looked down on aliens, but he wasn't particularly fond of ex-criminals or downtowner rejects either.
Bull held him in place for a few more seconds, seemingly unsure if he should just push harder and finish the job or not. Finally he pulled back and left Jacob gagging and holding onto the tiles. As the bouncer started to leave, Jacob managed to find his voice.
"Bull, do you really think I'd do anything that could hurt Angela?" he asked with as much sincerity as he could muster. He liked to think of it as testing the waters.
"Don't know don't care," Bull answered before reaching for the door. "But if you do, I deal with you."
A heartbeat later, Bull was gone behind the swinging door and Jacob twisted his neck to loosen the tension. He couldn't get rattled this close to game time and closed his eyes to concentrate on controlling his breathing. He could feel the magic flowing, feel the way things ought to go. His mind was focused and he was in the zone.
"Too late for regrets Harm," he said to himself as he reached for the door.
It was time to play his hand.
Comments to rw