Part three
And here's a bit more.
(Again, the first two bits are in the last two entries)
It takes my eyes little time to adjust to the dark. The sound repeats, but this time, it’s much easier to understand. My gaze narrows in on a sleeping figure, sprawled rather ungracefully between my freshly laundered sheets.
My teeth grind together. This is the last thing I need right now.
“Wake up Jack!” I growl as I flip the light switch. Jack startles, looking disoriented. “Get the hell out of my bed!”
Without hesitation I move in and shove him off, before he has a chance to oblige me. He’s a bit of a hefty guy, but it’s worth it for the ungraceful thud that follows. He manages to push himself on all fours, furiously shaking the sleep from his eyes.
“God damnit Trix, what the hell you gotta do that for?” He asks, but I ignore him.
Instead, I sit down on the edge of the bed, pull a cigarette from my pocket, and fondle it between my lips. He manages to right himself, coyly coming to my side, a puppy with its tail between its legs.
Didn’t I just send a lost puppy home? Hm, I’m beginning to see another comparison.
He has the decency to light my cigarette for me, and for a moment, I am euphoric. My vision is clouded with smoke; I feel dizzy, almost light.
“It’s good to see you Trix,” Jack says. He’s shirtless, and slick black hair obscures his features.
I turn to look at him, my eyes smoldering like the butt of my cigarette, which I promptly sink into his bare shoulder. He yelps, looking quite bewildered. They never grow up, do they?
“Boy Jack, you’ve got some nerve coming here, after all the shit you’ve put me through. You’d still be in the slammer if I hadn’t bailed you out. Next time I’m not picking up the damn phone. You’re such an idiot.”
“Christ Trix, do you treat all men this way? How about a little nepotism?” he asks, clutching his shoulder.
Meet my little brother, Jack. I’ve had to look after him as long as I can remember. The older he gets, the more trouble he seems to find. I always thought it’d be the other way around.
I look away, puffing on my cigarette. I know what he wants.
“I don’t have any money, Jack. This is the first case I’ve had in two months. I can barely pay the rent.”
“That’s alright,” he says, sounding far more assured than I’m feeling. “I don’t need money. I just need a place to crash until I make some.”
“So you came into my home without asking?”
“You said I was always welcome, Trix.”
“Funny, I don’t remember ever saying that,” I comment, my words laced with scorn. He tries to catch my gaze, but I refuse to give it to him.
“Look Trix, please don’t do this to me,” he says. He’s begging like a dog. It’s uncanny. “You’re all the family I got. It’s a cold world out there.”
“I’m glad you finally figured that out Jack,” I remark, moving from his side, keeping my back turned to him. “So what do you intend to do about it?”
“I got a job, Trix, I swear,” he says. At this, I turn around, purely out of surprise.
“Who the hell would hire a deadbeat like you?” I wonder, and at that, he laughs. At least he has a sense of humor. I can’t remember where I put mine.
“I know I aint the sharpest tool in the shed,” he comments, scratching the back of his head. “But I aint been hired for my smarts, just my hands. They got a place for me down at the pub on the corner, doing odd jobs. It aint much, but it’s something alright?”
Quietly, I exhale a heavy sigh, trying to feign enthusiasm. Now I’ll need to find another hole in the wall.
“That’s great, Jack.”
“Thanks, Trix,” he says, his lips curling into a boyish grin. I hate that damn smile. Gets me every time. “I’m sorry I startled you. I’ll get outta your way now, let you get some rest.”
“This better not be permanent Jack. I need peace and quiet if I’m going to get anywhere on this case. And as long as you’re under my roof,” I say, moving in very close, “You’re a damn saint. No drugs, no dames, no dirty dealing of any sort. You go to work, and that’s it. If you want to have a little fun on the side, I can’t stop you, but it better be far away from here. Got it?”
“Got it, Trix,” he says, still smiling all bright eyed, like things are somehow looking up. For him, maybe. “Hell, I’ll even cook you breakfast.”
I quirk a brow as I shoo him away. I shut the door, locking it shut with satisfaction. Solitude, at long last.
I do not go to bed, however. It’s getting on past midnight, but sleep is very far away. Instead, I move across the room, pushing open my window. It’s chilly out there; the fire escape obscures my view of the smoggy city beyond. Lighting a fresh cigarette, I creep out like a cat, tightening my coat as I settle against the stone wall, watching the city from in between the iron railing, blowing smoke rings into the frigid air.
I remember Mr. Wiltern, and our conversation comes back to me, particularly his commentary on the mediocre methods of Mr. Huxley. It’s hard to have an opinion myself. The ultimate point of a business is to make money, isn’t it?
Perhaps that’s just the problem then. In the pursuit of making money, morals are often abandoned by the wayside. Good men, like Mr. Wenton, are murdered, which puts me in business in the very least. Is that the silver lining to this unbearably gloomy cloud? Men die and I make money?
I shake my head with a mirthless chuckle. Boy does the truth hurt. I take another long drag from my cigarette. Whatever the truth in all this is, I intend to uncover it soon. It’s about time Mr. Huxley and I were acquainted. But first, Mr. Wiltern and I will have to have a second rendezvous. I just hope he’s willing to pay. I’m not a cheap date.
(Again, the first two bits are in the last two entries)
It takes my eyes little time to adjust to the dark. The sound repeats, but this time, it’s much easier to understand. My gaze narrows in on a sleeping figure, sprawled rather ungracefully between my freshly laundered sheets.
My teeth grind together. This is the last thing I need right now.
“Wake up Jack!” I growl as I flip the light switch. Jack startles, looking disoriented. “Get the hell out of my bed!”
Without hesitation I move in and shove him off, before he has a chance to oblige me. He’s a bit of a hefty guy, but it’s worth it for the ungraceful thud that follows. He manages to push himself on all fours, furiously shaking the sleep from his eyes.
“God damnit Trix, what the hell you gotta do that for?” He asks, but I ignore him.
Instead, I sit down on the edge of the bed, pull a cigarette from my pocket, and fondle it between my lips. He manages to right himself, coyly coming to my side, a puppy with its tail between its legs.
Didn’t I just send a lost puppy home? Hm, I’m beginning to see another comparison.
He has the decency to light my cigarette for me, and for a moment, I am euphoric. My vision is clouded with smoke; I feel dizzy, almost light.
“It’s good to see you Trix,” Jack says. He’s shirtless, and slick black hair obscures his features.
I turn to look at him, my eyes smoldering like the butt of my cigarette, which I promptly sink into his bare shoulder. He yelps, looking quite bewildered. They never grow up, do they?
“Boy Jack, you’ve got some nerve coming here, after all the shit you’ve put me through. You’d still be in the slammer if I hadn’t bailed you out. Next time I’m not picking up the damn phone. You’re such an idiot.”
“Christ Trix, do you treat all men this way? How about a little nepotism?” he asks, clutching his shoulder.
Meet my little brother, Jack. I’ve had to look after him as long as I can remember. The older he gets, the more trouble he seems to find. I always thought it’d be the other way around.
I look away, puffing on my cigarette. I know what he wants.
“I don’t have any money, Jack. This is the first case I’ve had in two months. I can barely pay the rent.”
“That’s alright,” he says, sounding far more assured than I’m feeling. “I don’t need money. I just need a place to crash until I make some.”
“So you came into my home without asking?”
“You said I was always welcome, Trix.”
“Funny, I don’t remember ever saying that,” I comment, my words laced with scorn. He tries to catch my gaze, but I refuse to give it to him.
“Look Trix, please don’t do this to me,” he says. He’s begging like a dog. It’s uncanny. “You’re all the family I got. It’s a cold world out there.”
“I’m glad you finally figured that out Jack,” I remark, moving from his side, keeping my back turned to him. “So what do you intend to do about it?”
“I got a job, Trix, I swear,” he says. At this, I turn around, purely out of surprise.
“Who the hell would hire a deadbeat like you?” I wonder, and at that, he laughs. At least he has a sense of humor. I can’t remember where I put mine.
“I know I aint the sharpest tool in the shed,” he comments, scratching the back of his head. “But I aint been hired for my smarts, just my hands. They got a place for me down at the pub on the corner, doing odd jobs. It aint much, but it’s something alright?”
Quietly, I exhale a heavy sigh, trying to feign enthusiasm. Now I’ll need to find another hole in the wall.
“That’s great, Jack.”
“Thanks, Trix,” he says, his lips curling into a boyish grin. I hate that damn smile. Gets me every time. “I’m sorry I startled you. I’ll get outta your way now, let you get some rest.”
“This better not be permanent Jack. I need peace and quiet if I’m going to get anywhere on this case. And as long as you’re under my roof,” I say, moving in very close, “You’re a damn saint. No drugs, no dames, no dirty dealing of any sort. You go to work, and that’s it. If you want to have a little fun on the side, I can’t stop you, but it better be far away from here. Got it?”
“Got it, Trix,” he says, still smiling all bright eyed, like things are somehow looking up. For him, maybe. “Hell, I’ll even cook you breakfast.”
I quirk a brow as I shoo him away. I shut the door, locking it shut with satisfaction. Solitude, at long last.
I do not go to bed, however. It’s getting on past midnight, but sleep is very far away. Instead, I move across the room, pushing open my window. It’s chilly out there; the fire escape obscures my view of the smoggy city beyond. Lighting a fresh cigarette, I creep out like a cat, tightening my coat as I settle against the stone wall, watching the city from in between the iron railing, blowing smoke rings into the frigid air.
I remember Mr. Wiltern, and our conversation comes back to me, particularly his commentary on the mediocre methods of Mr. Huxley. It’s hard to have an opinion myself. The ultimate point of a business is to make money, isn’t it?
Perhaps that’s just the problem then. In the pursuit of making money, morals are often abandoned by the wayside. Good men, like Mr. Wenton, are murdered, which puts me in business in the very least. Is that the silver lining to this unbearably gloomy cloud? Men die and I make money?
I shake my head with a mirthless chuckle. Boy does the truth hurt. I take another long drag from my cigarette. Whatever the truth in all this is, I intend to uncover it soon. It’s about time Mr. Huxley and I were acquainted. But first, Mr. Wiltern and I will have to have a second rendezvous. I just hope he’s willing to pay. I’m not a cheap date.