~*~AK~*~
“My best friend's strange.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“She disappears a lot.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Your move.”
“I mean, she's always saying she'll
go to something and then never shows up and she's always going on
long trips to places.”
“Don't you do the same though? Your
move.”
“Yeah, but that's different. That's
a part of my job and I always tell someone if I'm going to be gone
long.”
“Maybe she's doing some side jobs.
It's your move.”
“Ah, I don't know, man. Maybe I'm
just over thinking this thing.”
“Exactly. It's still your move.”
“Huh?”
“It's your move.”
“Oh.” Blake took one look at the
board and moved his queen over. “Check mate.”
“What?!”
“Whelp. I'm going home. Thanks for
talking with me.”
“Ah, no! Come on, best 11 out of
20!”
“No.” Blake grabbed his coat and
slinging it over his shoulder, walked out the door while Jack
remained looking at the board, trying to figure out just how his
friend beat him... again.
As Blake walked home, he continued
wondering about his best friend's constant disappearances. They were
supposed to go to a movie together a few nights ago, but she never
showed up or called or anything. He still hadn't heard from her, even
three days later. He remembered the longest time she was gone was two
weeks. He had gone to her house, but the landlady said she hadn't
been there in a long time. When he asked her where she might be, she
claimed she didn't know. Blake worked as an investigator, so
when he found out that no one had seen her for two weeks, he told
them and asked for their help. The next morning she showed up at his
house with breakfast and talking like nothing had happened. When he
asked her about it, she avoided the question. She had always been
like that, even before they became friends. He remembered when he
first met her. She sang at a bar where he went to gather some
information. When he tried to talk her into telling him some stuff,
she just smiled, pulled out his badge from his pocket and checked for
its authenticity. Then she returned it and told him that his kind
wasn't wanted there. After that, she became like a challenge for him
and he would always go back to try and get information out of her.
That's when he learned that she was always going on random trips here
and there and would be absent for a long time. But she was rarely
ever gone for more than three days. Over time, they eventually became
best friends, and whatever information he needed now, she always had
it on the spot.
He walked along, checking his
cellphone in case she texted him. This was why he wasn't paying
attention to what was around him as he walked through an
intersection. Suddenly, he felt a firm hand grab him and pull him
forward with great force, as a car hurtled past where he used to be
standing. He turned to look at who it was who had saved him, but no
one was there. Quickly glancing around, Blake searched for where he
might have gone, but there was nothing. He walked on to the other
side. No one was around to ask.
Blake decided to stop by the bar where
his best friend worked to get a drink and to see if she might
reappear there. The bar was mostly empty and it was someone else who
stood singing on the stage, though she wasn't nearly as good. Blake
ordered a beer and sat down. Everyone around him he knew were
probably criminals. Nearly everyone in that old town was. There were
a great variety of criminals too. It just seemed to be the kind of
place that all the criminals flocked to, though there really was no
explanation as to why. Everyone carried a gun for protection. Even
women and children carried small guns or knives at the very least.
Most men carried multiple guns as well as knives. A few carried
special swords. (He himself carried one gun and had studied martial
arts.) The whole place was like a combination of all the movie genres
into one. Fantasy, mystery, sci-fi, western, magic, even musical.
Yes, there were people who would go around singing songs that had
anything to do with their situation. Of course, those were usually
the insane people that did that. Whatever the town was like, it was
easy for an investigator to make money because all the criminals were
mostly easy to figure out. The main mystery was why the criminals hid
out there, but everyone seemed to agree that it was just coincidence.
Blake sipped his drink and studied the
picture on the wall. His best friend actually owned this place. That
was why she could skip work as much as she liked. The picture he
stared at was one her father had done of her when she was little.
Sitting next to her was a little boy she never mentioned. When asked
about it, she would just give a sad smile and say, “A dream.”
Their smiles were kind, and she held a little kitten in her arms.
She had always loved cats. Perhaps that was why there were so many
pictures of them on the walls around the room.
He took another sip. Why was he there?
Why was he sitting here waiting for that strange, little girl to come
back when she might not come back for another week? Still he sat
there. What better things were there to do? It's not like he had work
or anything to clean up at the apartment. He'd just as soon stay
where he was than go home.
He heard someone come in and sit down
beside him. “Scotch,” the man said. He set his hat down on the
counter and ran his fingers through his hair. Blake took a quick
glance at him and sized him up. He was a pretty big fellow, with
muscular arms. A revolver hung by his side and a cigarette which had
gone out long ago hung limp from between his teeth. He had an
unshaven look about him and his thick, black hair fell past his
ears. He wore a leather jacket and boots and was obviously a part of
the “western” part of the mixed up town. Then, talking to no one
in particular, he said, “Ah, that singer's pretty bad, ain't she?
Whatever happened to that pretty, little chick with the dark, brown
hair and legendary golden eyes? Now she had a voice!” Here he took
a sip from the glass that had been set in front of him. “Ah. Boy I
do miss 'er singin'. Yep. I hear that girl up and disappeared from
this town. Had enough of it, I betcha. Hey, ain't that a picture of
when she was a youngen? I do say that must be her brother sittin'
next to 'er. I heard he was murdered, that boy. No one knows who done
it, though. 'Cept that little girl. But she don't tell no one.
Instead she's just bidin' her time. No doubt they'll come for her too
one day.” Here he finished off his drink, put on his hat and left
the bar. Blake dared not believe what he said. Though she never told
him about anything, he knew she originally wasn't from around here,
so no one but herself should know about her past.
Blake took one last sip from his drink
and returned to his apartment. As he was busy taking out his keys, he
sensed a certain familiar presence nearby. Stepping in and switching
on his light, Blake watched as the armchair in front of the fire spun
around to reveal a young girl with dark, brown hair and golden eyes,
holding a black cat in her arms. “I've been expecting you,” she
said ominously. Blake was surprised at first and then laughed. The
cat scurried out of the girl's lap at the sound. “Now see here,
you've scared poor little Coal.”
“You've wanted to do that at least
once, haven't you?” Blake asked, still laughing. The girl joined
in. “Well, of course!”
“But tell me, how did you get in?
You don't have a key, do you?”
“Why, didn't you know I used to be a
professional thief?” she said sarcastically and winked.
“Ha! Right. No, seriously, though,
how'd you get in?”
“Ah! I know!”
“What?”
“I know what I want for dinner now!
Noodles!” Blake just stared at her, then closed his eyes and shook
his head. “She dodged my question again. Ay yi yi.”
She smiled gently. He knew she saw right through him. He had learned
after a while that it was no good to question her when she didn't
really want to give an answer. However, he always asked at least once
where she had been whenever she went missing. “So, where were you
this time? Off visiting your boyfriend?”
“If that's what
you want to think, go right ahead.”
“So where were
you then?”
“In another
place,” she answered as she searched his cabinets for some noodles.
Blake just smiled and watched her back as she stood on tiptoe to
reach the top cabinet. “Ah!” she exclaimed, grasping a can of
chicken noodle soup. After she took out all the necessary
utensils, she began cooking. As he watched her, he wondered just who
she was underneath that mask she always wore. There was one time when
he had asked her to be his girlfriend, but she refused gently,
saying, “Are you sure you want to date a girl who can't show her
true self to you?” Now that he thought back on it, he just laughed
at himself for not realizing that he really knew nothing about her.
For him, she was just the girl who gave him information. But not a
single bit of information was about herself. He thought about what
the cowboy in the bar had said and ventured to ask, “Alameda.... Do
you have any family?”
Woohoo! You've got guns in your post!
ReplyDeleteOf course! I'm trying to put something in for everyone. (That's why it starts off with a chess game, for Jon). Oh, and if I ever write something about a gun and it's wrong, let me know, since you're an expert and everything. ;-)
Delete"he wondered just who she was underneath that mask she always wore" Fitting line.
ReplyDeleteIs this THE character?! :)
ReplyDeleteWhat is THE character?
DeleteEpsie.
DeleteThe book traveler? No. Though if we write her story, I would probably put it on this blog.
Delete