WHAT IF I TOLD YOU
1206 Words
Frank was seated in a booth at Edie's contemplating his current dilemma.
He had drained his glass of brandy far too quickly and cursed under his breath when he remembered they were eight bucks a pop when not accompanied with a meal.
A binder set just behind the glass and Frank peered through the glass at the note affixed to the binder. Even distorted, Frank could make out the brief message that told him to keep an open mind.
Tired eyes scanned the faces in the room and lingered on a leggy blond woman nursing a glass of beer. To her left were two red faced men speaking a little too loudly about their respective jobs.
Frank watched as the man closest to the woman attempted to flirt with her.
Unimpressed, the woman rolled her eyes at him and returned her attention to her drink. Belligerent, the man got louder and yelled at the woman. His companion was forced to intervene.
Frank noticed how the second man was not nearly as drunk as he had appeared a moment earlier. There was something familiar about the second man, but Frank reasoned that he was so ordinary that the man could have been anyone.
Almost effortlessly, the man defused the situation with whispered words to his rejected drinking buddy and apologetic ones to the woman. The woman rewarded him with a hint of a smile and his buddy shook his head in agreement to whatever had been whispered.
Returning his attention to the binder, Frank thought about what had transpired an hour prior to his arrival at Edie's.
Then, Frank had been dressed in the trench coat and fedora that currently occupied the chair opposite him. The information broker had given him a time and place and Frank felt a certain old school appeal to his rendezvous inside of the parking garage.
After less than ten minutes of waiting, a pair of headlights had flashed four times then sped out of the parking structure. Frank had then walked to where the car had been and knelt down to retrieve a green one inch ring binder.
Back in the present, Frank looked up to order another drink and saw his waitress standing at his table.
"Half price. Looks like you could use a break."
"Thanks," he told her as he admired her figure, but thought you have no idea.
*
Ninety minutes passed before James had finally exhausted his energy.
As he entered his home, he was nearly brought to his knees by that increasingly familiar sensation. Someone was here; someone dangerous.
However, the danger was offset by the delicious aroma of steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and sweet potato pie.
Cautiously, James followed his nose to the kitchen.
"What’s the occasion, Unc?”
“Company.”
The aura of danger hit like a gale force. After the initial wave, James saw the source.
He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and sat down across from the strange woman at their table.
“Good evening, James.”
“Good evening, Miss…”
“De La Luna. Please call me Elisa.”
Just then, his uncle set a six-ounce cut of meat and a mountain of potatoes in from of him.
His eyes were drawn to Elisa’s corkscrew curls. They spiraled to her shoulders and framed her face very well. She was dressed in cream-colored business casual wear. Her lips wore a weary smile.
The atmosphere was tense. But the food smelled incredible.
“Go ahead and eat,” his uncle commanded. “Ms. De La Luna, would you excuse us for just a moment.”
“Of course, Professor. Where is your bathroom?”
“Next to the hallway closet.”
“Thank you.”
The moment she left, James gave into to his ravenous hunger and began shoveling buttery mashed potato into his mouth.
He ripped into the steak as if he had not eaten in days.
“Could've sworn I taught you better table manners.” Uncle June slid James a glass of water as the younger man choked down a piece of meat that probably should have been chewed more.
After downing the entire glass, James offered a meek apology.
“What’s going on, Unc? Who is that lady?”
“Hopefully someone we can trust.” That got his attention.
“What do you mean? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“That remains to be seen. Things are happening. Things I prepared for but had hoped would never happen.”
“Can you cut the man of mystery act for a sec and give me a straight answer?”
“Gentlemen, if I may.” Elisa had returned to the kitchen.
“Please.”
Elisa took the seat next to James and he fought the sense of dread that made it hard to swallow.
“James, the man your uncle speaks of is very dangerous. He will be coming for one of your school mates this week. Because we hold your uncle in high regard, we wanted to keep you out of harm's way.”
“Which school mate?”
“That is not your concern. He is coming and the easier the acquisition, the less chance there is that anyone gets hurt.”
“You’re okay with this?” He directed the query at his uncle.
“It’s not ideal, but my primary concern is to keep you safe. There are some powerful forces at play.”
“We offer you this courtesy out of respect for your uncle. Please do not speak of this meeting and for your own safety do not interfere.”
James watched Elisa stand and shake hands with his uncle.
“A pleasure as always Mr. Martin.”
“Likewise Ms. De La Luna. Remind your father of our arrangement please.”
“Consider it done. Farewell James. I hope we can meet again under better circumstances.”
The two men escorted her to the door and watched her seemingly disappear into the darkness. Once the door was closed, James turned to face this man he suddenly did not know.
“What the hell, unc?”
*
An hour later, Frank was back at Johari's apartment. He stood in the foyer for several minutes observing his young partner.
Peter was watching highlights of a basketball game. He mocked the home team's small forward as the man missed a ten foot jump shot and the visitors' power forward snagged the rebound. He then launched the ball down court where his point guard caught it easily and kissed the ball of the glass for a couple of points.
As another clip showed the visiting teams center swat a shot attempt into the second row, Frank approached the sofa.
"Was wondering how long you were going to just stand there," Peter remarked without turning away from the screen. He was rewarded with the point guard draining a long distance shot at the buzzer.
Frank sat on his usual middle cushion in silence.
"You okay? You look like you're going to a funeral or something."
"Close enough."
"Come again?"
"What if I told you vampires were real?"
- Writer
