Whiskey Hollow festered with the stench of stale beer, greasy pub food, and a hint of decades-old cigarette smoke. Walls adorned with kitschy memorabilia and old sports banners absorbed the hazy light, making the whole place feel like an insular world where time stood still.
Alban, now dressed in frayed blue jeans and a leather jacket, lounged in a quiet corner booth away from the few potential eyes present. In front of him, a tall glass of lemonade sweated on a coaster. He curled his hands around the cool glass and raised the rim to his lips.
I could be downing something that actually burned if it weren’t for Cassidy’s games, he thought as the tartness of the lemonade prickled his tongue. Unfortunately, on the clock meant off the bottle. He could still puff, at least. Small victories.
He placed the half-drunk glass on the table. Then, without lifting his gaze from the table, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of Midnight Wisps.
He tugged a cigarette from the pack, lodged it between his lips, and then dug back into his pocket. From inside it, he withdrew an aged lighter. It sparked a flame that kissed the cigarette's tip and then returned to his pocket as he inhaled.
What’s the hour, anyway? he wondered as he blew a ribbon of smoke. It snaked out and weaved through the air like a living thing into the stale atmosphere. Then he pulled out his cellphone from the opposite pocket. The screen read six-thirty.
Evidently, punctuality wasn’t in Blondie’s skill set.
Once again, Alban took a slow, deliberate pull. A familiar tightness filled his lungs.
Patience is part of the game, he reminded himself. He just needed to keep cool, stay useful, and wait for Cassidy to trip up – and she’d definitely trip up. She could paint herself as some big-shot genius all she wanted. At the end of the day, she was still just a loaded chick biting off more than she could chew. Something was bound to slip out. Even if she didn’t answer him directly, he’d collect enough snippets to find his way to Ozon.
As he puffed out a ring of smoke, the bar entrance opened. Two girls entered.
The first was Rebecca, despite the fact she didn’t look like her usual vibrant self. The text she sent ahead of her appearance helped him know that.
The second girl was a complete mystery.
She definitely wasn’t Cassidy – Cassidy was a lot of things, but tall wasn’t one of them. Also, she’d go for a classier dig than a dive bar.
After a moment of scanning the bar, Rebecca and the girl approached the corner booth and glided into the seat across from him.
“What’s the hustle here?” Alban asked as he stubbed the cigarette out on a coaster and extinguished it with a twist.
“Maria,” Rebecca whispered, “you’re gonna love this. Jack here is the hero behind today’s awesomeness. None of this could’ve happened without him.”
Alban’s gazed at Rebecca and blinked twice. So, I’m Jack now? Whatever. It didn’t matter. The real issue was Blondie yappin’ to the client about him. Who did what wasn’t her business. And even if he planned to change his look, she didn’t need to know his face.
He shifted his glance towards Maria’s chest. The modest floral pattern couldn’t hide her assets.
Screw it. If Maria was in the loop, he might as well have some fun with it. He shrugged before saying with a velvety voice, “What can I say? I’d never skip out on helping a babe in a bind.”
Rebecca pursed her lips and knitted her brows together while Maria’s eyes widened. Then, she shot up an eyebrow while a faint, intrigued smile graced her lips.
“Well,” Maria said, “if there’s ever a way for me to thank you for everything, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Reach out, huh?” Alban curled his lips into a smirk. “I’m gonna need—”
“Oh, no no no,” Rebecca said, “you don’t have to do anything! Consider it a freebie!”
Maria frowned. “I’d still like to thank Jack – and yourself, of course – for everything.”
“Seriously,” Rebecca said, “making people happy is all the reward we need.”
Alban’s gaze stayed on Rebecca as he lifted his glass to his lips and took a deliberate sip.
Cassidy’s cookin’ up something, he thought, but it isn’t to hook me up with this girl. Blondie wouldn’t have been messing with the flow if Cassidy had. So, what was it? What could she possibly gain? I should just roll with the punches. He could handle any crap she threw at him.
With one last gulp, he polished off the remainder of the lemonade. The crisp, tangy sweetness swam down his throat as he clanked the glass on the wooden table. “She ain’t wrong. We’re all about makin’ waves, and your smile is the only feedback I need.”
“I gotcha…” Maria said, her voice tinged with disappointment. “Still, I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me and everyone else hurt by…him. I seriously thought nothing could stop him…” A transformation washed over her features as her face brightened and her lips turned upwards into a gentle, heartfelt smile. “The good you’ve done will forever be etched in my heart.”
Damn, he thought as a brief ripple moved through him. Maria’s smile really was a decent ROI…
Alban’s stomach flipped – as if a switch had been flicked in the dark corners of his mind.
Damn! his mind shouted, this time with a bitter edge. Why hadn’t he seen it sooner?! Cassidy basically gave him a spoiler alert months ago when they first met! She had said something about being happy when she got to play hero!
A sour tang clawed up his throat, almost making him gag.
Cassidy deserved an A for effort, but Maria didn’t reset the board. He had a firm grasp on his identity: a walking calamity, now and forever. Even if he did go straight, the world had already made up its mind about who he was. It would just push him back to his old ways. So, why even bother?
“That’s fantastic,” he said, “truly. But there’s a queue of needy people and ticking clocks, so…”
He glanced at Rebecca.
“R-Right!” Rebecca jerked towards Maria while Alban exited the booth and set off. “Thanks a million for coming! And if you’re ever in a snag again or know someone who is, don’t hesitate to ring.”
Then she sprang up out of the seat and followed.
Not long after their exit, the tires of Alban’s car hummed against the asphalt, carving a path back toward Himitus. Alban and Rebecca sat in contemplative silence, mulling over how things had played out.
Unbeknownst to them, Alban’s words about “needy people” and “ticking clocks” were more prophetic than he intended. While Wynn, Alban, and Rebecca wrapped up what Cassidy had labeled “The Bill of Health Job,” Edan had already begun to untangle the threads of a much larger, far more complicated tapestry.
Part 2 End
