Chapter Text
The sting of copper filled his nose, and Adrian didn’t have to look behind him to know that Lucas was there. As unsavory as it was, Lucas’s strategy of concealing knives within his torso let him get eight to twelve knives into the club, which was eight to twelve more than either Adrian or Reese had on them.
“What’d you say you wanted after this?” Lucas asked Reese. The elevator the three were in shook as it took them down, down, down into the earth. Green fluorescent lights buzzed and blinked above them, the red safety light bathing the room in a bloody glow whenever the overhead lights disappeared.
The elevator gave another heave before Reese answered. “Rocky road.”
“Is that a premonition?” Adrian asked.
“More of a childhood favorite,” Reese said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Superstitious?”
“No,” Adrian responded. He looked at his warped reflection on the closed and scratched elevator doors. “Paranoid.”
“Phosphate lime,” Lucas offered.
Adrian looked over his shoulder at the other jag. “What?”
“Is what I wanted. Thought you were curious.”
Adrian furrowed his brow, which was enough to make Lucas shrug and look away.
Truth be told, ever since he had met the guy they’d been having issues, and particularly in the last month. Both of them ran hot, something that Adrian would admit, and neither of them had a penchant for backing down. Whether it was laundry detergent, food, or even how far the car seat was leaned back, they could never reach an agreement or compromise. Adrian felt bad for Reese, who was often caught in the middle as the mediator. It couldn’t be easy managing an unstoppable force and an immovable object.
“Run us through the plan again,” Reese suggested.
“We go in, we walk up to the bar, we order a White Sky, we hit the floor, and then we’re out.” If the elevator was bugged, he didn’t want to alert security of their goals. Their target was some lowlife overdue on something-or-other, it really wasn’t their business to know and it wasn’t in Adrian’s interest to care. At some point, every bruising order had become monotonous to him. Even one in a supposedly exclusive and unique club. White Sky was the code for their target.
“And do we like White Sky?” Lucas asked. Adrian could see he was tapping his chin in the door reflection.
“Yes,” Adrian answered. “We’re regular enjoyers of White Sky.”
“What’s even in a White Sky?”
“Heavy cream, Rumchata, Captain Morgan or some shit, probably. Doesn’t matter, I’m gonna be doing most of the ‘drinking’ anyway.”
“Somebody’s grumpy,” Lucas said. “Rough day at work?”
“Always rough when it ends with you,” Adrian shot back.
“Oh! Feisty.”
Reese turned to Lucas with a glare, then hit Adrian with the same expression. “Lay off. We need to be nice if we want to have a good time.” He raised his eyebrows.
“We can talk more when we’re in there,” Adrian finished. He purposefully ignored Reese’s look. And anyway, the club was likely to be busy and rambunctious, so there was no way any mics could hear them from the inside.
A sudden shake hit the elevator, and the overhead lights turned off. Deep red light embalmed the room. Even through the darkness, Adrian caught the frightened shift in Lucas’s demeanor, which brought him some satisfaction. Low bass began to creep through the metal walls, and flashing green and magenta lights peaked through the crack in the elevator door.
“I thought Dima said this was like a speakeasy,” Reese said.
“To him, it is,” Adrian said. He had to almost shout the last part because of how loud the bass had gotten. “Remember, we are frequent party goers. We’re here to have fun.”
Lucas shifted from side to side. “Where’d this attitude come from?”
Adrian smiled. In the crimson reflection, it looked like a snarl. “We’re on my turf now.”
The elevator doors slid open with a ping.
Loud music flooded the elevator and seemed to ricochet off its metal walls. The low red lights evaporating with the introduction of the bright strobes momentarily blinded Adrian. Silhouettes of people with their hands in the air or moving to the beat made the white, green, and magenta light come through in slivers.
Adrian cut through the crowd to try and find a clear corner. Naturally, there wasn’t one. He had to stand on his toes briefly to scout out a less crowded spot near the wall, and double checked if the other two were still following. Sure enough, Reese and Lucas were right on his tail sporting grimaces on their faces.
“This ain’t like any other hit we’ve been on before,” Adrian said once the other two caught up with him. Shouted, really. It was the only way to be heard. “We’re in a high profile area. Civvies in every corner, we can’t afford to do any collateral.”
Reese nodded, but Lucas still looked confused.
Adrian snapped his fingers in his direction. “What, I got something on my face?”
“No, asshole, I can’t hear out of this ear.” Lucas jabbed a finger at the side of his head.
Adrian grabbed the opposite shoulder and pulled Lucas in close. “Crowded space, do not fire at will. Basically, you ain’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.”
Lucas flashed a venomous look, but nodded in understanding.
“How are we handling this White Sky fella?” Reese asked.
“Some old white crooner, heard he loves asian boys. That’s where I come in.” Adrian pointed a thumb at his chest. “I’m gonna get close, go Godzilla on him, then blast out of there. I’ve done this type of thing before, so I need you guys to stay behind me in case anything gets weird.”
“Weirder than that?” Lucas shouted.
“You know what I mean.” Adrian rubbed his forehead. The noise wasn’t a big issue for him, but the strobing lights were getting to be a bit much. “I’m gonna drag him to one of the hallways and beat him there. That stuff happens all the time here, nobody’ll bat an eye.”
Reese narrowed his eyes. “Going alone is a bad idea, you know better.”
Adrian waved his hands in the air. “Relax. I’ve done this shit so many times I could do it in my sleep. Let me handle my job, and you can handle yours.”
Reese puffed up indignantly, but Lucas beat him to speaking. “This is a bad fucking idea man. Hasn’t it been a while since you’ve done a club hit?”
Adrian felt hot flames licking the inside of his chest. “You think I can’t handle myself?”
Reese put a hand on Lucas’s shoulder and shook his head before he could say anything else. Good. “What do we do in the meantime?” Reese had his arms crossed over his chest.
Adrian shrugged. “You’re young and hot. Have fun.” He snickered at their annoyed faces, then shot a finger gun at them. “Not too much fun, though. I still need back-up.” With that, Adrian turned on his heel and left.
During his day job as a line cook, he often felt out of his element. The lights were too bright, people did things that didn’t make sense, what people said wasn’t what they meant, and quite frankly there was nothing stimulating going on. In the club, however, Adrian felt right at home. The wave of bodies, the thick air, the rhythmic base—that was home. He’d done gigs like this a thousand times, and the sensory overload was too familiar to be disgusting.
He felt a pang in his chest, and thought of his old crews. Most of them weren’t even alive anymore. Someone’s cigarette smoke wafted by, and by the smell Adrian could tell it was Palm Mall. It sent him back to when he was seventeen in a parking lot, shooting the shit with people who were long gone. When the sunset faded into night with a pastel glow from the smog, when the streetlights blinked yellow as he and his friends did donuts in deserted car lots.
He rubbed his forehead. Get your head in the game.
As he approached the bar, he took his jacket off. A black sleeve covered the arm with his Jackdaw tattoo, which slid right under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. His dark pants made him fade into his surroundings, but the white design on his back and left chest area lit up blue in the UV lights.
The bartender was a burly man with a strong nose and beard. From what Adrian could tell, this man had no gang affiliation. Adrian’s years of street-running had made him an excellent eye when it came to figuring out who belonged to who. The man in front of him was just an employee of the club.
“Drink?” The man said. He had an unplaceable accent.
Adrian looked from side to side like he was expecting someone, then put on a lopsided smile. “How ‘bout a White Sky?”
Something changed in the man’s eye, and he walked through a door in the back Adrian hadn’t seen before.
While the bartender was busy, Adrian looked as far behind him as he could without turning his head too much. Reese and Lucas were tall, so it wouldn’t be too hard to spot them. The moving and jumping bodies made it harder. He had to believe that they were there, even though he couldn’t see them.
I was kind of a dick to them.
A sour feeling settled in his gut, and he knew that despite his hissy-fit earlier they’d stick around anyway, be it for money or some weak sense of loyalty. When this was over, he’d buy treat them to whatever the hell they were talking about in the elevator. Yeah, that’ll fix it.
The bartender appeared again, this time with an older man hunched over with age. He was dressed in a dark suit and spotless satin dress shirt, sporting a fedora colored to match. What looked like crimson sunglasses hid his eyes, and a golden jaguar brooch posed like it was peaking out of his pocket. He leaned on a cane whose head was also a jaguar, this time with its mouth open in a roar and teeth plated with gold.
“Not many people order this one nowadays,” the old man started. His skin was the color of white peach flesh and his wispy white hair was combed to the sides. The bartender left to attend another client, and the old man, White Sky, began making the cocktail. “Not many people make it right, either. They don’t know how to balance the acids and fats, and then it gets curdled and disgusting.”
“Is it your favorite?” Adrian leaned in closer. White Sky definitely had the old man smell, but he’d have to get even closer if he wanted to complete the job successfully. He looked higher ranking than Adrian expected and was bound to have goons crawling around somewhere.
“By a long shot,” the old man said. He grabbed a bottle of something blue and a carton of heavy cream. “But I’m biased, since I’m the one who created it.”
Adrian was tempted to ask whether the drink or the man was named first, but he didn’t want to accidentally out himself. Dima had failed to mention if the man actually went by the moniker, only saying that the man would come out if the drink was ordered.
Instead, Adrian opted for feigning interest. “Really? If I’d’ve known I was talking to an entrepreneur, I would’ve worn something nicer.”
“Don’t sweat it, kid.” White Sky flashed a smile. He finished the cocktail and slid it over the bar. It was in an old fashioned glass. A cloud of cream sat on top of a dreamy blue layer, probably blue curacao or something similar. Sure enough, the cream had not curdled. “Wearing something nice in a place like this would be a waste.”
“Can’t say it’s wasted on you, though,” Adrian responded. Although he watched the entire process of making the drink, he was still wary of taking a sip. White Sky was old blood, and there were one billion tricks he knew that Adrian didn’t.
The old man’s demeanor changed, and he got closer to Adrian. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” His breath smelled like cigars and menthol.
Adrian gave the man a slow one-over, then lowered his voice and leaned even closer. “I thought it was obvious.”
The old man’s eyebrows shot up, and his glasses fell down a bit to reveal piercing blue eyes. They were gone in the next second. A slow smile split his thin lips. “I have quite a few accommodations.” His arms were on the bar now.
“And I’m in the mood to be accommodated.” Adrian was smiling too, although for a very different reason. It was great to be back in the field.
White Sky briefly looked down at the bar, then back at Adrian. “Not going to finish your drink first?”
Shit. “Can I take it for the road?” Adrian asked. He put his own elbow on the bar and caressed the other man’s sleeve.
“Of course,” White Sky said. “Why don’t you join me on the other side of the bar? There’s a great spot behind the door I came through.” Using his cane, gestured to the inconspicuous door the bartender had used. The jaguar teeth glittered in the strobe lights.
Shit! “I don’t know,” Adrian began. He kept the flirty tone in his voice, hoping it masked the gears turning in his head. “I heard the private corners and hallways were some of the best around here.”
“I’d like to think I’m a level above a hidey-hole,” White Sky said. Even though his tone was pleasant and a light smile was plastered onto his face, Adrian could see the annoyance in the way his body tensed slightly.
Adrian smiled again. “Of course.” He hoped his expression didn’t look as tight as it felt.
The old man unlocked something below the bar, and a gate only a few feet away from Adrian opened. Another aspect of this place Adrian hadn’t picked up on. “After you.”
As a silent prayer, Adrian cast one last look at the dance floor, hoping either one of his crewmates had eyes on him. He still couldn’t pick them out from the pulsing crowd.
“Lead the way,” Adrian said. White Sky hooked his arm though Adrian’s, much to Adrian’s own discomfort. He hid it by leaning in closer.