40 – Good Things
Tony stood over Slow John’s listless, groaning form, contemplating the size of his well-tanned, hairy belly as it escaped the confines of his too-tight tank top. The guy was built very similarly to Beef, though he was shorter and had a higher fat-to-muscle ratio. Still, he’d taken a pounding. All the while Tony had been wearing him down, dodging his brutal jabs and haymakers, he’d wondered about the banger diet that produced such prodigious mountains of flesh.
As he looked up, brushing some sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, he was relieved to see the assembled Red Thumbs cheering, laughing, and clapping each other on the back. They’d enjoyed the show. Tony shook out his mechanical arm, throwing some of Slow John’s sweat and blood onto the concrete in a spatter pattern. “We done?” he asked, addressing the words to no one in particular.
“Damn, Shep!” Chino said, stepping forward. Tony wanted to be irritated with the kid; it was Chino’s fault he’d wasted twenty minutes listening to the bangers boast, make bets, and then circle up to watch the fight, which had taken another ten. The point was, he’d lost half an hour, and his knuckles needed cleaning.
“Seriously,” he grunted. “We done? I’ve got shit to do.”
A full-fledged banger, not a pledge, stepped up beside Chino. “We good, Shep. Thanks for not killing ’im.” He nodded his tattooed, bald head at Slow John’s prostrate figure. The big man had begun slowly rocking left and right as he rubbed his swollen, purple brow.
“All right.” Tony nodded and then walked toward the mouth of the alley. They were across the street from the bodega he’d been aiming for when this little distraction had come up. Part of the crowd followed, especially the wannabees, calling out questions:
“Where’d you learn to fight?”
“Where do you train? Can I join?”
“Yo, Shep! Why didn’t you break his neck?”
“How do you swing that shitass arm so fast?”
Tony ignored them, flicking his bloody mechanical fingers over his shoulder in a lazy wave as he crossed the street. When he entered the market area at the base of the apartment stack, he had to wade through a different sort of crowd—food vendors, people lining up to check Blast Lotto tickets, and just a general press of humanity moving to and fro with their shopping baskets and sacks of goods.
He finally worked his way into the bodega and moved to an aisle filled with candies. “Chocolate, she said…” He perused the selection, suddenly self-conscious about what he thought would be a good choice. Would she think he was cheap if he just brought her a ChocoRabbit Nugget? What about those individually wrapped Danish Milk Treats? He had no idea what they’d taste like. He finally settled on a bar of plain milk chocolate that was five bits more expensive than the others. It had to be good, right?
He bought himself a can of electrolytes and a single-use sanitizing napkin—on display near barbecue pork dogs—and then pushed his way back through the crowd and out into the hot, stifling air of the Blast. He hooked his little plastic bag over his wrist and then used the napkin on his knuckles, cleaning the bits of Slow John from the metallic grooves.
He tossed the dirty wad of blood-stained, alcohol-soaked paper into a recycler, then popped the top on his drink. After his first big sip, he moved over to a shady spot against the side of the building and said, “Get ahold of Ross, Nora.”
He continued to sip his drink, waiting patiently while Nora dealt with Ross’s PAI or secretary or whatever the number he’d given Tony connected to. He was feeling pretty relaxed—probably because he’d just violently pummeled a very big banger. It had been a pretty good workout, and he always felt good after a workout. He looked at Addie's message again, smiling as he sipped his drink.
Addie: If you think I’m the only one with copies of those fights on the net, think again!
It was a valid point. He supposed there wasn’t any getting the meat back in the can at that point. Hell, there were probably already a dozen vids of his fight with Slow John going around the local nets. Part of the reason he’d given the guy such a beating was to try to forestall more challenges. He’d thought his fight the other night at the Ninety-Nine would have served that purpose, but maybe he’d gone a little too easy on Mint. Maybe he’d ended things too fast—hence Slow John’s much longer, bloodier beatdown.
“I have Mr. Ross on the line,” Nora announced.
“Cool.” Tony watched as the call window resolved and Ross’s familiar, perfectly groomed face appeared.
“I hope you’re calling me with good news. Did you decide to take me up on my offer?”
Tony nodded. “Yeah, we’ll look into your…” He hesitated, unsure if Ross’s end of the call was secure. “Associate.”
“You can speak freely; I’m in a secure location and the call’s encrypted.”
“Right. So, anyway, we’ll make sure Weaver’s got too much on his plate to mess with you anymore.”
“Did you receive my bonus?”
Tony nodded. The guy had sent them another 20K on top of their payday from Torque, which was incredibly generous considering the job was for just a little more than half that amount. “Yeah, we appreciate it.”
“Well, I appreciate that my daughter’s in one piece and didn’t have to go through the nightmare of being kidnapped.”
Tony crunched his drink pouch and tossed it toward the recycler. “Hey, speaking of appreciation, do you think you could do me a little favor? It’d help us clear our plates and focus on your job.”
“Well, Shepherd, there’s only so much I can—”
“It’s nothing much. Really. I just need you to send me a message from your office at Boxer. Hell, you could have your PAI do it. It’s a couple of sentences and nothing that would get you in any trouble. It’s more the kind of thing… Well, let’s just say that receiving such a message from Boxer could make another person’s life a little stressful. You follow?”
“Is that all? I’m assuming you need it to have the Boxer security tags on it, yes? This won’t come back to me?”
Tony shook his head. “Guaranteed it won’t.”
“Fine. Have your PAI send me the specifics. How soon can I expect results on the Weaver situation?”
Tony shrugged. “Gotta give us time to scope things out and come up with an angle. I mean, assuming the contract looks good and you come through with fifty percent down. All that checks out, you can touch base with me in a couple of days, and I should have more concrete info.”
“All right.” Ross nodded, but his eyes were hard. He didn’t like not being in control. “You’ll receive the contract before the end of business today.” Before Tony could agree—or not—the call window closed out.
“Huh. Something I said?” Chuckling, he walked back toward Glitch’s place. “Nora, try to pester Ross’s PAI for that Boxer-stamped message.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Working on it!”
Tony walked down the stairs, knocked twice, then pushed it open, frowning as the metal door scraped the threshold. He squatted to try to see where it was rubbing, as Glitch called out, “That you, Shepherd?”
“Yeah, just a sec.” He could see it was scraping near the jamb, like the hinges had begun to sag or… He stood up and gripped the side of the door with his mechanical hand, then grunted as he lifted hard. Metal squeaked as something bent, and then he tried the door, grinning with self-satisfaction as it closed and opened without rubbing. He walked into the apartment, fishing around in his pocket for Glitch’s chocolate. He tossed it to her when she swiveled in the chair to look at him. “Hope that’s all right.”
“Ooh! Fancy!” She deftly peeled back some of the wrapping and took a big bite. While she chewed, she continued to speak, and Tony had to look away as chocolate caked her teeth. “You want to wait around while I keep working on this thing? Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
Tony collapsed onto the couch, hands in pockets. “I might as well. Maybe Ross will come through, and I can go deal with this situation today.”
“Oh! You look like you’re pouting!” Glitch laughed, spinning her chair to nudge his knee with a foot clad in a white- and pink-striped sock. “What’s the matter? Miss your little partner in crime?”
Tony shook his head. “Nah. She’s doing something important.” He snorted. “I’m not pouting, anyway. I’m just relaxing.”
“Fine. This chocolate is good, by the way. You want a bite?” She held the bar toward him.
“Nah, I’m good. Thank you.”
She swiveled back to her deck and the little device she’d been working on. “Okay. Let me get back to this, then. If you’re bored, tell me about that doctor you had me find. What are you and Ember gonna do with him?” Before he could answer, she held up a finger and added, “More importantly, is there going to be any work for me on that job?”
“That’s still up in the air,” Tony said, dragging the coffee table closer so he could kick his feet up on the corner. “We need to stop him, but we gotta decide how that’s going to affect things with Ross.”
“You need to stop him?”
Tony smirked. “You haven’t figured that out about Ember yet?”
“Figured what out?”
“That she can’t let bad shit go by…unaddressed.”
Glitchwitch giggled, bouncing up and down on her chair as she worked. “Now you mention it, yeah, I get it. I mean, I told you I did a little background work on you two before we met. She’s definitely a do-gooder. That hard for you?”
Addie frowned, searching her memory. JJ started to provide a reference before she could tell him not to, but she quickly looked away from the paragraph on her AUI. “Sorry, I don’t know him.”
“Nobody alive knows him. He lived around 150 years ago. He was a famous martial artist, and he was known for several astute observations. One of them went something like, ‘I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.’ Do you see?” He smiled, clearly proud of himself.
Addie wanted to match his positive vibe, so she nodded enthusiastically and tried to apply the lesson to what she’d been learning that day. “So, you’re saying I shouldn’t try to master everything at once. I should try to get good at one thing first.”
He nodded. “You’d be surprised how many principles from martial arts apply to the Dust adept. Learning to act with your muscle memory rather than having to think through every step of every move will save your life. So, that’s your homework for the week. When we meet again, I want you to be as fast as I am with the Hands Up technique.”
“As fast as you?” Addie put a little whine into her voice, and Pyroshi waved his hand, shaking his head.
“Your tears are wasted on me. My heart is as a stone.”
Addie laughed as she glanced at the clock on her AUI: 4:42. “Thank you for spending so much time with me today. I can’t believe we’ve been here since nine in the morning!”
He nodded. “Tempus fugit.”
“Can I pay—”
“Don’t insult me! I already told you: that which you value most—”
“Should never be for sale.” Addie finished, pleased to see his smile widen.
“I knew you’d be a good student.” He held out his hand, and Addie took it. “Next weekend, then?”
Addie nodded. “Of course. Thank you again, Pyroshi.”
“You’re more than welcome.” With that, he turned and ambled away over the grass, moving in the general direction of the park’s west side, where several apartment stacks loomed. She wondered if he lived in one of them.
Addie looked at her AUI and focused on her message app, sending Tony a quick note:
Addie: Just finished. Are you busy?
While she waited for a response, she said, “JJ, have the van pick me up by the memorial.”
“Will do! Moving it out of the parking garage now.”
A message arrived from Tony:
Tony: Yeah, I’m busy, and so are you. Can you bring the van over to Glitch’s? I think I’ve worked out a plan to get Beef off the hook with the Helldogs.
As she read the message, a warm, fuzzy swell of emotion filled Addie’s chest. He’d kept his promise—not for himself, not even for her, but for someone she cared about. She started walking toward the big pedestrian crossing by the memorial. “He really is a good guy, isn’t he, JJ?”
“I’m assuming, based on the message you just read, that you mean Tony. If that’s the case, then, yes, Tony is a very good guy. Not as great as Bert, the best dad in the world, but still very good.”
Addie laughed. JJ had definitely gotten cleverer since his upgrade. She focused on the message and sent Tony a reply:
Addie: Thank you, Tony! I had a wonderful day, and you just made it better. I’m on my way.
She stood on the sidewalk, watching the people cross the road while cars piled up, waiting for the big, double-wide crosswalk to empty. After a while, traffic started moving again, and she saw their van coming, about a block away. She felt good—better than she had a right to feel, in her honest opinion. She almost didn’t want to think about it, like acknowledging the good things in her life would draw the universe’s attention, and something good would get wiped away.
When had she started to believe that? When had she decided that accumulating good things only meant you had more to lose? She didn’t know, but she hoped that little voice was wrong. She hoped she didn’t have to worry about losing Tony or her growing connection to Dust. She hoped she’d be able to keep learning from Pyroshi and making new friends like Glitchwitch. As she stood waiting, the many good things in her life—her father, their new home, her new career—kept spiraling through her mind, building up a massive tally.
No matter how she tried to stop, she couldn’t stop seeing that accumulation as a debt—something she’d have to pay for somehow.