Chapter Text
Madrid was asleep. The bars were closed and the taxis were off. It was late even by Spanish standards. The only sound still in the streets came from a couple of drunks on their way home, from distant trucks and traffic lights. The Spanish city was quiet. And that was why Jigen jolted when he heard the knocks:
Knock, knock, knock
The man jumped out of bed, with a gun in one hand and a shoe in the other. It took his brain a while to catch up. Where am I? The brain asked the body. And his body, which was running on adrenaline, answered: What the hell do I know? Shoot first, ask later!
Knock, knock, knock
Slowly, his mind began to function again. He was in Madrid, in a safe house near the Neptune fountain. His eyes swept the room: he saw his black hat; he smelled the scent of ashes and cigarette butts and heard… well, nothing. There were no police sirens, no screams from his mates because: Fuck, that’s right. He was alone that night. Lupin had gone out partying with Fujiko and Goemon had vanished when no one was looking. He never said where, and they never asked.
Jigen let out a bit of tension from his mouth, in the form of a Spanish curse:
“ Me cago en la puta . Who the fuck is knocking at this hour?”
Knock, knock, knock sounded again.
The gunman had no choice but to leave the room and he went to the entrance. He decided he was going to try a foolproof trick, a method he had learned in his years as a thief. So, he stood next to the door and, with the revolver raised, asked: “Who is it?”
“It's me.”
“Lupin?”
“Yeah, man.” Someone said from behind the door.
“But…”
Knock, knock, KNOCK
“Fuck, Jigen! Just open the damn door, okay?”
The man lowered his gun and started turning the locks. The first, the second… With the third gone, the door opened and a Lupin appeared in the corridor. He was in his underwear and looked pissed too. Someone else would have raised an eyebrow, or maybe even worried about the situation. But Jigen didn't even bother. By this point in his life, he had a master's degree in ‘ weird Lupin bullshit’ and a PhD in ‘look, I don't want to know.’ Still, he asked: “And Fujiko?”
“Fuck Fujiko!”
Lupin stumbled into the flat and sat down on the yellow armchair with his arms crossed and a pout on his face. It wasn't unusual for his friend to be naked, nor for him to be sulky, but that combination: anger and nudity, didn't usually go hand in hand. Of course, if you added a Fujiko to the mix, it all suddenly made sense.
"Again, huh?"
" ¡Que te jodan! " the chair replied.
"Very mature." Jigen first chuckled and then sighed. "Come on, I think there's some soup left."
The night progressed and the apartment filled with smells: with the aroma of chicken and celery; with the gray smoke of cigarettes; with vodka and whiskey.
“Here.”
A bowl of soup and a gunman appeared in front of Lupin. For dessert, there was extra alcohol and cigarettes.
Jigen lay down on the sofa and lit the first cigarette. Then, he looked at his friend. Lupin was no longer angry, now he was gloomy.
“You know I don't like celery.”
“And I don’t like seeing you without pants,” the other answered. “But, hey, if you don't like it, there's the kitchen.”
The thief growled in response. And then he began to fish out green pieces with the spoon to the rhythm of a nice melody. It said: “Fucking Madrid. Fucking celery…”
Next to him, Jigen pulled his hat down further.
Lupin continued: “Really, fucking Christmas and fucking…”
The thief paused for effect. It was obvious that he wanted to talk about it and it was even more obvious that Jigen was not in the mood for it. But Lupin was Lupin, he was unstoppable, he was a force of nature. He was annoying as hell.
“In case you're interested, Fujiko stood me up.”
“Oh, no.”
Jigen made a face, the one he reserved for special occasions. Depending on the context, it could be read as ‘tell me something I don't know’, or as ‘Lupin, you're an asshole’ or like ‘I'm not drunk enough to have this conversation’. In this case, it read like all three together. The man reached out and grabbed the bottle of whiskey.
“Oh, yeah. And right after inviting her to dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in town, you know? I prepared a fucking killer date for her. Do you have any idea how much it costs to hide an elephant in El Retiro?”
“Wait, wait,” the gunman said between coughs and whiskey, “did you say elephant?!”
“Yes, Jigen, pay attention, will you? And I took her to the opera, to a spa, and…”
“What the hell was the elephant for?!”
“For the plan, of course.”
“And staying in boxers was part of the plan too? Or was that because of the elephant?”
“More or less,” the thief answered. “Turns out the peaches and the green paint were to blame too.”
The gunman frowned. “But what were you going to do with…?”
Lupin began to stretch a smile. And he thought better of it.
“You know what? I don’t want to know.”
His friend shrugged, in the universal gesture of “whatever”. And then he kept saying: “Well, Jigen, I worked really hard” he continued. Lupin left the soup on the table, next to the little pile of celery. “Fujiko had been asking me out for days in Madrid and I wanted to make her happy, you know?”
Jigen nodded and lit his second cigarette. He knew that part.
“She asked me for a day just for her. No police, no robberies, no shit. And, damn, that's what I did. I took her out for tapas and dinner” The thief reached out his hand to ask for a puff and his next sentence came out loaded with smoke. “What's my fault that the police were there too?”
“There, where?”
Lupin lowered his gaze and held the cigarette a little tighter.
“In El Prado.”
Where the group had planned to rob tomorrow. Where Lupin had sent a warning note a week ago.
“So we had to run for it.” He said “It was fucking crazy. Alarms, dogs... everything. In the end, when we gave them the slip. And Fujiko was laughing and seemed happy. Until…”
“Until she played you, right?”
“Until she fucking played me! She punched me in the face and ran off with my clothes.”
Jigen made that face again. He had heard that story hundreds of times: only in Berlin, in London, in Rome... Always the same dynamic. Lupin screwed up and Fujiko got angry. Or Fujiko stabbed him in the back and he got revenge later. The open relationship they had was a vicious circle: of screw-ups and backstabbing; selfishness and games; forgiveness and wiping the slate clean.
“I couldn't help it, okay?”
He didn't answer. Jigen knew that sometimes the thief was a bit of an asshole. That he was selfish, inconsiderate, and a jerk. He also knew that sometimes Lupin had his reasons. Strong reasons that were intertwined with anxiety and trauma; with impulses and bad thoughts. Reasons that did not excuse him being a jerk, of course, but that gave another dimension to his sabotages, to his fondness for relationships with no strings attached.
But that was something they never mentioned. In that house, the past was never mentioned or advice was ever given. They also avoided judging. Because in that house, in that group, traumas were drowned in whiskey and buried deep. Sometimes with shovels, sometimes with crimes, and kisses. Sometimes there was comfort and, if you squinted really hard, even kind words. Unfortunately, Jigen was terrible at the latter. “Yeah, well. Shit happens.”
Lupin snorted. The anger had long since gone. Now his face was a mix of anxiety and regret. “She seemed really angry, Jigen.”
The gunman tried another technique. He handed her the most expensive whiskey they had and said, “Shit happens?”
“I’m serious.”
He looked at his friend, at the cold soup and the pile of celery, and lit his third cigarette. “What do you want me to say, Lupin? That you screwed up? Is that it? And so what?”
So what if Lupin was a bit of an asshole? So what if Jigen was rude and unfriendly? So what if they were all crazy and broken? They all worked well together and even tolerated each other. And, more importantly, they understood each other.
“It’s Fujiko,” Jigen said it as if it were an explanation, and in a way, it was. “She’ll show up eventually.”
His friend went to reply, but something interrupted them. There was another knock at the door. For the second time, Jigen sighed: Today is going to be one of those nights, isn't it?