Midnight Visitor
835 Words
Inside the compound at 8800 South Highland Drive.
Victor Hawthorne pressed his face to the left-side window, eyes wide, peering into Evelyn Moore’s room. “This late and she’s still not back?”
From the right-side unit, Julian called out, “Get over here and help, will you? I didn’t invite you to sightsee.”
“Coming, coming.” Victor sounded half-hearted, crossed the courtyard, and stepped into Julian’s room. “It’s just a rental. You only sleep here. Why turn it into a palace? Good enough is good enough.”
“Living alone—you want it clean, right?” Julian fanned his nose. “Help mop. It’s all dust.”
“s**t—make a deputy captain mop for you? You’re getting big ideas, brother.”
“I’ll buy you dinner.”
“That’s more like it.” Victor was lazy to the bone—back in the dorms he’d probably ask someone to jerk him off if he could. Helping Julian clean was a miracle.
They worked in sync—Victor mostly directing, Julian doing the heavy lifting. Until eight or nine, no sign of Evelyn.
“She’s still not back?” Victor asked. His real reason for coming tonight was the girl.
“Stop staring. She’s not your type,” Julian rolled his eyes. “Let’s eat.”
“Second Sister’s?”
“f**k that. Night market run—quick bite.”
“What bite?”
“Instant noodles. Easy.”
“s**t—you drag me here to move, and feed me noodles?”
“Cheap. Eat or go home. I’m beat.”
Victor grumbled. “Fine. But throw in a sausage.”
Julian laughed. “Deal.” He headed out.
…
The compound had five units. The landlady lived behind the inner iron gate—rarely seen. Evelyn and Julian flanked the main entrance. The last two were side shacks—no water or power, occupants ghosts.
Julian returned with food, boiled water. Simple dinner with Victor. Early sleep planned—interrogation tomorrow on Alexander and Stephen Cross.
“Done eating—head back,” Julian said, stripping his jacket.
Victor burped. “Nah. Too late. Crashing here.”
“One-and-a-half meter bed—how?”
“I’ll spoon you.” Victor kicked off stinking shoes, flopped down.
“You sick or what?” Julian asked, wary. “Here for Evelyn or me?”
Victor grinned in the dark. “Ever tried with a guy?”
Julian froze.
“You?”
“I watched once. Supposed to hit the prostate—”
“Shut it!” Julian cut in, disgusted. “You going or not?”
“Not. Late.” Victor stripped carelessly, slid under the single blanket.
Julian had no choice. Quick wash, climbed in. One blanket—awkward. Victor’s earlier words lingered.
“Dealers locked down?” Victor asked, back to Julian, eyes closed.
“Yeah. Two leaders.”
“Heh. Vale must be thrilled.” Victor sneered. “Full of righteous bullshit, but does the dirtiest shit.”
Julian had heard this before. “You got a problem with First Team?”
“Hard to explain quick. Just—work is work, but personally… keep distance.”
“Your leg—move it.”
“I’m not moving.”
“It’s touching me.”
“That’s not my leg…” Victor mumbled, sleepy.
“Then what—” Julian reached, then bolted upright.
“What the hell?”
“You’re f****d up!” Julian flushed. “One blanket, one bed—why naked?”
“You sleep clothed?” Victor asked, confused.
“Not that—underwear region.”
“Oh. It chafes.”
“You’re poking—” Julian roared. “Put it back. Put something on—”
Knock-knock.
“Who?” Julian called.
“It’s me—Evelyn… You home?”
“Yeah—wait.”
Julian threw on his coat, opened the door.
“Sorry—you were sleeping?” Evelyn stood in her wool coat, cheeks red from cold.
“No problem. Hot water left.” Julian smiled. “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks.” She stayed outside, polite.
Julian grabbed the kettle. “Long day?”
“Just settling in.” Evelyn rolled her stiff neck. “Ugh—sat all day. Neck’s concrete.”
“We’re low on hot water,” Victor called from bed, grabbing his underwear. “Hold on—I’ll fetch cold from the well. You boil more. Wait!”
Evelyn peeked in, saw Victor pulling on underwear under the blanket. Her neck stiffened. She glanced at Julian, expression lost, voice stuttering. “Oh… your… partner’s here too?”
“???” Julian froze with the kettle.
…
Outside the compound gate.
An electric motorcycle idled. The passenger scanned the entrance. “Little Tiger said a colleague lives here too.”
“Two people?”
“Yeah.”
“Stake it. Wait till Julian comes out alone.”
The bike slipped quietly into the night.
- Writer
