Chapter 4-1
897 Words
Chapter Four
The bead curtain clacked as Jay entered the Pensioner, a smoky restaurant bar that had seen better days. Damien was behind him, politely declining a gram of weed from men in creased jeans and wet sneakers. Past the row of Greek gambling machines, a bizarre cross between slot machines and pinball, Jay spotted her. She was the only person not eating a bowl of cheap spaghetti. But like everyone else here, she smoked restlessly.
Jay let Damien into the booth first, then parked himself on the end. ‘How’s tricks?’ he said.
He caught a slight smile, but it was gone in an instant. ‘Tricks are for kids,’ she said.
Jay gave her half a grin. ‘Damien chose the place.’
Damien appeared nervous. ‘It was the only place in five klicks.’
‘The only place you can smoke in this country,’ Jay added.
Nasira ashed her cigarette and brandished another. ‘How’d they get an exemption?’
‘They’re selling drugs out front, I don’t think that’s necessary,’ Jay said. ‘Anyway, he didn’t pick it for the smoking. They do killer bolognese.’ He slid the laminated menu toward her. ‘Cheap too.’
Nasira ignored it. ‘I’ll pass on the carbs. Old habits die hard.’
Jay grinned. ‘Right. Operative diet. Almost forgot since I’m not one any more.’
She peered over the table at his stomach. ‘I see you already ate.’
‘Big breakfast.’ He quickly leaned forward. ‘You’re not doing a particularly good job at selling me your end of the bargain.’
Nasira drew on her cigarette. She didn’t seem in any rush to answer. ‘I ain’t selling you anything, buttercup. Damien here gave you the down low. You already made up your mind but you came anyway.’ She tapped her cigarette over the ashtray. ‘That tells me you’re curious.’
‘You’re the only black woman here,’ Jay said. ‘I think everyone’s a little curious.’
‘How’s your resumé?’ Nasira said. ‘Would you like a LinkedIn testimonial?’
‘I’m fleshing it out nicely.’ He really didn’t want to give her more information than necessary.
‘We have paid work,’ she said.
‘I already get paid work,’ Jay said.
Nasira drew on her cigarette. Smoke wafted over the table. ‘Not this well paid, you don’t.’
‘I’m not greedy.’ Jay folded his arms. ‘I earned quite enough from your last suicide mission.’
‘Not calling you greedy.’ She leaned forward ever so slightly. ‘Calling you a touch restless. I’m sure you’re eager to hit the sand again.’
Jay bit his lip. ‘Itching.’
Nasira raised an eyebrow at his crotch. ‘You should get that looked at.’
‘After how that last job turned out, you really think I’d be jumping at the chance for another?’ Jay said.
Nasira didn’t answer, just watched. She was reading him. Seeing if he was bluffing.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do.’
‘You know what I’ve learnt since being here?’ Jay said.
Nasira looked genuinely surprised. ‘You’re learning things now?’
‘I’ve learnt the point of life.’
‘That’s heavy,’ she said. ‘For you.’
‘I travel light.’
‘I’m all ears.’
Jay looked around at the patrons, twirling spaghetti on forks and circling snooker tables. ‘These people … they have a normal life.’
‘An incredible observation,’ Nasira said. ‘Your skills are unparalleled.’
‘They deal with the challenges and problems of normal life. That’s what I’m trying now. That’s what I want from this world.’
Nasira looked bored.
‘And I don’t see anything wrong with that,’ Jay said.
‘Right back at you,’ she said. ‘Looks like these people been doing a pretty good job too. World’s falling apart and they just wanna sit around and eat the …’she glanced at the laminated menu, ‘Tuesday special.’
Jay nodded. ‘I didn’t think you’d understand.’
She flicked the menu aside. ‘I understand damn well. The trials and challenges of a normal life are more than enough for everyone.’ She focused on a woman and a man sitting three tables down, hunched down and eating in silence. ‘Who can blame them for not wanting to engage in an endless fight against something you can’t stop?’ She flicked ash into the ashtray, now at full capacity. ‘They’re not stubborn, they’re not delusional. They might not know the Fifth Column exists but they know they’re being lied to. They know they’re being poisoned. They know millions around the world are starving and dying.’ Her voice was almost a whisper now. ‘And they know they can’t do s**t about it. So they eat bolognese.’
Jay didn’t have a response ready.
‘Is that how you feel?’ Damien asked her.
Nasira’s gaze flickered between them. ‘Sometimes. It’s a rare breed of person who burns to take on both horns—the basic challenges of normal life and the threats on a global scale.’ She extinguished her cigarette. ‘And I guess you ain’t one of them.’
Jay watched her leave.
‘I think that went well,’ Damien said.
‘I’m not letting you do this,’ Jay said, without looking at him.
Damien feigned surprise. ‘Do what?’
Jay shook his head. ‘Manipulate me into this. Starving African children bullshit.’
‘OK.’
Jay hammered the table with a fist. The nearby couple looked up, pasta draped from their mouths.
Damien shrugged. ‘Actually, you can blame the Fifth Column for Africa. They proxied that place up better than Latin America.’
Jay shook his head. ‘She has what I’m missing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You saw that look in her eyes—she’s got purpose. Something to fight for.’
‘Is that what you want?’ Damien asked.
‘I don’t know.’
Jay got up and walked out. Nasira was out the front, fresh cigarette in hand. Jay checked there was no one in earshot.
‘You don’t seem surprised to see me,’ he said.
‘You don’t seem surprised at my lack of surprise.’
‘Old habits die hard. But more importantly, what guns do you have?’
- Writer
