Freindship and Debt

I looked down on her. She was standing across the room of my bar, looking only slightly lost. Tyson was with her. Bastard, I thought to myself, though I didn’t dare think it too loud. There were ears everywhere in the club, and some could even hear what wasn’t said aloud. I hurried my way from the balcony back into my office. The live orchestra wasn’t a draw, but I had a thing for it, some nice soothing live tuneage kept me from losing myself in certain moments. Seating myself at my large desk, I pulled out my flask and the bottle of whisky I keep in my lower drawer. I’d need it. Letting a few drops drip from my flask into the open and full bottle, I put a small cap on top the bottle and began to swirl it, mixing the deep red with the rich amber. After a few seconds of swirling, I slid the flask back into my jacket and opened the bottle to pour myself a tumbler.

It was as I finished pouring that the call came. “Bossman,” one of my men who kept the masses out of the VIP area said, poking his head in through the large oak doors to my office, “There’s a fellow and lady here, claiming to belong in the VIP section. A Tyson and Emma. Don’t seem like a couple, or your usual fare.”

“Did the Tyson say anything peculiar?” I asked.

My man, Ivan, thought a moment, then nodded. “When I first turned him away, he told me to tell you he’s calling in ‘loss pit hall’. That mean anything to you?”

I sighed. So that was how Tyson would play this. Nodding, I replied, “It means let them up, leave the woman in the area and bring the gentleman to me.”

Ivan nodded, and left me. “L’Hospital, Tyson,” I muttered to myself, “Really?” Leaning back in my chair, I sighed once again and took a drink from my tumbler. It was exquisite and helped take some of the edge I’d been feeling off.

A minute later, Tyson walked in, a smile plastered across his face. With one look at Ivan, he left to keep an eye on my other visitor, closing the door behind him. Tyson walked right up to the chair facing my desk and relaxed, making himself at home. “AJ,” he said, “It’s been too long. How’s the scene?”

“Ty,” I replied, a look of tired doneness on my face that could undoubtedly be felt throughout the club despite my specialty walls around my office, “We had a deal.”

Tyson shook his head. “I know, I know,” he said, leaning forward, “But you also owed me a big one.”

“I know. Why do you think we’re talking now?” I tried to keep an air of cordiality in my voice.

Tyson chuckled. “And here I thought that was just ‘cause we’re old friends.”

The cordiality dropped. “We were. You broke the deal.”

“No,” Tyson countered, “Ricky broke the deal. I just tried my best to fix the broken situation.”

I smiled. “I know you did the lesser breaking. That’s why you’re alive and Ricky’s, well,” I meaningfully gazed at one of the urns that graced my mantle in the office.

Tyson groaned. “I know, I know, how generous, oh Killer of Kings, blah-bitty-blah. I get it. But she needs your help.”

I furrowed my brow, breaking my gaze at Ricky’s urn to look out at the woman sitting alone at a VIP table, failing to get Ivan to talk. “Why?”

Tyson bit his lower lip. “Well, see, she’s a bit of a problematic eater.”

“How bad?”

Wincing, Tyson hesitantly answered, “The kind who’s bad for us all.”

“A last drop or a red haze?” The question was important. If it was a red haze, that was easy enough to control. But last drops, addicts like that had a painful time getting over the lust.

“That’s the thing. I could probably, with a bit of help, deal with either.” After a meaningful pause, he added, “She’s both.”

Crap. “Does she want to be better?”

Tyson shrugged. “Won’t know until you talk to her about it.”

I stood up, slamming my hands against the table. “You mean, you haven’t even tried to talk about the problem with her? She’s your damned responsibility.”

Tyson flinched backwards, rightfully afraid of me. I could taste the fear, and it was disgusting. A necessary evil to maintaining this place. This neutral zone. Tyson slowly stuttered, “I fi-fi-figured it’d be b-b-better coming fr-from you.”

I shook my head, seating myself once again and leaning back. “But she doesn’t know me like this. She doesn’t know about this whole damnedable life. Heck, she probably doesn’t even remember me.” I finished off my drink and picked up the bottle.

“So?” Tyson asked. He was lying, or at least hiding the truth. My gut about such things was rarely wrong. “If she remembers you, great, you can reconnect and talk about whatever people talk about. If not, then you’re just my expert in living this life the best way. Win-win.”

I flicked him off and shook my head, but my mouth replied, “Only because I owed you. Now we’re even.”

He nodded. “Of course. Do this, don’t kill me, and we can consider that time I saved your life paid in full.”

“Damned L’Hospital,” I muttered to myself as I stood up and, taking the bottle, made my way to the great doors of my office.

Looking back expectantly at Tyson, I held the door open. He got up faster than a human eye could process and rushed out the door. In under a second, he was seated beside the young Emma. Showoff, I thought to myself, not caring whether anyone noticed. Then, stepping through the door and adjusting my suit ever-so-slightly, I approached the table. With a nod, Ivan returned to the bottom of the stairs, to meet up with Olivier and help keep our private meeting private. Seating myself across from her, I smiled. “Hello, Emma,” I said, pleasantly.

She furrowed her brow, the edge of recognition appearing on her face before she snuffed it out. Then she did remember. Perhaps the years had been kind to her memory. But she hid it. She knew the people of this society well enough to know that past connections will always be seen by some as a weakness. “You must be Tyson’s friend, Mr. Wilkens.” She extended a hand for a moment, before remembering her manners, retracting the hand, and bowing her head by an inch. She was new, but well trained. Good on Tyson for teaching at least some etiquette to her before bringing her to meet society as a whole.

“Please,” I said, “Call me AJ. Everyone here does.” My smile was less fake than normal, but I still put my best effort in making it look plastered on.

“Alright, AJ. Why did Tyson bring me here?” Her question was straight to the point. Admirable.

I couldn’t help but smirk at the directness of the remark. “All in due time, young Emma,” I said, then taking a breath, I asked, “Do you know why this place is significant?”

Emma looked around but shook her head. “You own it? Is it like, free range or something?”

I shook my head at her. “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. When I came to this town, there was an uneasy peace. Everyone kept to themselves, building armies in secret out of fear. I established this place as neutral ground, and quickly made myself into someone that everyone feared. This place, it is free of violence by pure force of will.”

“Then, where do you snack?”

I chuckled. “I don’t. I actually eat less than almost any one of us that I’ve ever met. Force of will is a powerful weapon.”

“Is it now?” she said with a smirk of her own, “But aren’t we more powerful when we actually eat?” In a blink, she was behind me, leaning over me. “Couldn’t I kill you right now?”

Without blinking, without even turning to face her, I coldly stated, “No.” It was not a threat, there was no trace of anger or irritation in my voice. It was as though I was stating a simple fact. To add to that fact, I pointed at my pectoral. Looking down at her own, she saw several red dots. “They’re on the back as well, in case you’re wondering. You may be fast, but you’re predicable. Everyone is. You should know better than question that.”

With a chuckle, she returned to her seat. “Fine,” she said, “So why am I here, Tyson?”

I answered for the man. “Because Tyson fears your feeding habits will get you caught, and he brought you to me to determine whether or not you should be helped or removed.” I could taste the fear in the air, emanating from both of them. Nauseating, but necessary. I took a swig from my bottle. It quelled the nausea, even if only temporarily. “Fortunately,” I added, “You caught me on a generous day. If you want the help, I can help you.”

She furrowed her brow. “What would that help entail?”

I shrugged. “The most painful year of your life.”

Tyson held up his hands. “It’s just a regimen to help. God, you’ve gotta start with the harsh bit.”

“I was answering honestly. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” she asked.

I nodded. “If you strictly follow the regimen, you’ll be fine. It will just be a mildly uncomfortable few months, followed by a perfectly fine rest of the year. You’re just a drainer, so I know you won’t follow the regimen for the first few months, then once you do, it’ll feel like crap.”

Emma furrowed her brow as she sat back in the bench. “You make it sound like you’ve done this before?”

“I maintain the regimen myself, though I’ve never had the problems you have. I’ve trained two fine gentlepeople like yourself before. One is dead on my mantle now for breaking regimen within the city, the other is currently running a place much like this one down in Dallas.”

“What is the regimen?” she asked.

“We can survive on roughly a half pint a day. That translates to roughly four pints a week, or fifteen pints a month. For the initial training period, you will be provided that amount on the first of each month. You will maintain that for a full year, or until you are consistently rationing it appropriately for two months in a row, whichever comes later. Then, you will be let out of the facility.”

“Seems easy enough,” Emma replied. She didn’t truly understand it yet, but that wasn’t the important part.

I took a breath and added, “That leads us to the hard part of the regimen. Once out, you are never allowed to have live meals. Your problem may stem from many different places, but most certainly at least part of it is the feeling of living flesh under your teeth. You must abstain for as long as you remain in the city.”

“And once I’m out of this hellhole?” she asked. She was clearly souring to the deal.

I shrugged. “Then you are no longer my problem, and if you get caught it won’t reflect back on me.”

“Harsh words,” she said, “But what if it does? For whatever reason. You never know what people might find in somebodies past.”

I leaned in. “You forget. I have no past. As far as anyone is concerned, I’ve been dead for years now.” As I finished the statement, I leaned back into my seat. “So, do we have a deal?”

Sighing, she said, “Fine. Where is this secret facility of yours?”

I chuckled, “Like I’d go anywhere near that hellhole again.” Leaning over towards the stairs, I whistled.

Olivier came up the stairs. “Yeah, boss?”

“This fine young lady will be undergoing the regimen. Take her to the facility.”

“Right away, boss,” he replied, holding out his arm for her to take.

Sighing, she stood up and joined the large gentleman. Turning her head back towards me, she said, “But a year from now, we’re going to have a talk, AJ. Alright?”

I nodded. “Deal.”

The two of them left, arm in arm, towards the rear entrance. Turning to Tyson, I asked, “Was it really worth it?”

Tyson shook his head. “Nope. But it was necessary. I assume this is the part where you kick me out of the city?”

I laughed. “Of course not. Our deal was for me to do this for you and NOT kill you. It would be unfair for me to kill you now. Stay or go, it’s your choice.” I stood up, leaning on the railing overlooking my club. “Just remember, you have my tolerance. You’ll need to earn back my friendship.”

Tyson nodded. “I plan on it, AJ. What do you need me to do?”

“For now?” I said, rhetorically, as I spotted tonight’s guests of honor coming in through the front door, “Relax and enjoy the evening. My meeting has arrived.” Then, after a pause, I added, “Oh, and do listen to the people left in the VIP area. People tend to talk around drunken fools, and that’s a part you play well, if I remember correctly.”

“Yep,” he replied, “As long as you’re paying for my booze.”

I chuckled and waved the third bartender operating the main bar up to the VIP lounge. Rach was, like Tyson, a good listener. And like Tyson, she liked my way better than anyone else’s in the city. She’d be loyal enough, as long as I was doing right by humanity. She sashed her way up the stairs while the entourage was stopped by Ivan. “What’s up, AJ?” she asked me as she arrived.

“Keep an ear on things, and keep my compatriot here with a drink at all times, alright?” I replied.

She nodded. “It’s good to see you here again, Ty,” she said, smiling slightly. I forgot they had that thing once.

“It’s good to be back,” Tyson said right back.

I retired to my office, pouring myself another tumbler of my special whisky mix and waiting for the mafioso to join me. He’d broken one of my rules. He’d need to be taught a lesson in humility. I sipped my drink, leaning back menacingly.