Chapter 1
She was dressed in a black strapless gown, that revealed way more than it should. It was by design. In her line of work, less was more.
The spot that she had chosen to operate from —bubbly at first— had dissolved into a barren roadside; except for the occasional vehicle which zoomed past, sparked a wild breeze, which sent her shoulder length hair into a frenzy, and made her skin spotty with goosebumps, in the already cold chill of the night. If only more — required less skin, she wouldn't have to hug herself, and shuffle on her tenuous heels.
Previously; before the sparse vehicles drove like speedsters on a race track; some had taken the time to slow down, and check out — what was on the menu; the visage on the other side of the glass, hadn't appealed to her in the slightest: all round and heavy. Some were outright dirty, or suspicious: people like her get missing all the time, and it never made the news. She didn't feel like getting crushed — in more ways than one. It had been early at the time — of course, early for her, was late for many — so she hadn't been desperate, but the night chill had taken a sharp turn, and its bite grew increasingly cold, with each minute that went by. Hindsight could be a bitch. She should have gotten in with the hideous fellows, gotten the quick cash, and returned for a bigger fish. But it seemed she may have to return to her — also sparse — one bedroom apartment, without a single score.
If she believed in the three faced god (the true god, according to the gospel of her mother), or any other god (false gods, still as documented by the gospel of her mother) for that matter, she might have prayed for good fortune, favor, or the all so glorious light, which the devouts, and fanatics alike, preached about. To illuminate her, and the path which led to her. So that men, even women, interested in what she had to offer, could see, find, and partake — in all that she had prepared; and afterwards, fill her purse (digital) with coins (virtual creds), as they offered praise and testaments, to her unrivaled prowess.
She pulled her phone, and scrolled threw her list: siblings tuitions, rent, medication for her mother; with an account balance in the red zone. She slipped the phone into her purse, and glanced down the road lanes, of the black district; what a terribly slow night it had turned to. Whatever came her way, fat or sleazy, she was going to put on her best face, get in, and fake through the whole ordeal.
From a distance, gun shots pierced the air, in single and triple bursts. Another reason, for whichever god (an unbeliever still) that ruled the night, to send her daily bread. The zone, had grown increasely unsafe, but there were responsibilities on her shoulders, and with limited skills, in a territory, where said skills meant nothing, but who you knew and what your father's name was, she had to do, what she had to do. Creds did not fall from trees; even those were becoming a luxury, as they gave way for more and more skyscrapers, which only a select few could reside in.
If only Malik, frequented the city more often, I would appear on this ghastly road, even less frequently. Alas, it wasn't so, for his appearance was as sporadic as the dissappearing rain. But when he made his presence known, she'd drown in a river luxury, which she'd enjoyed for a while, until he dissappeared once more, and whatever freshness that had lingered on her, would be flushed down the drain of bills — upon bills, and the responsibilities — of being the breadwinner of the family.
Some god, must had heard her unsaid prayer, for a silver corvette drew to a slow cruise, and stopped by her spot. She put on her best smile, as the window drew down, unveiling the face on the other side like a tease. He was square jawed with almond shaped eyes, which were the color of midnight.
"Hello sugar. Need someone to keep your bed warm?"
"No," said the man, with midnight eyes. "I'm looking for direction. I've never been here, and seem to have lost my way."
Pretty he may be, but it didn't help her in the slightest. Creds in her purse, was what she needed.
She pulled up from the window, fished out a cigar, sparked a light, puffed the cancerous smoke, and watched it drift with the cold breeze. She eyed him from the corner of her eyes, he hadn't left, he probably couldn't take a hint. His previous statement was probably a ruse, maybe it was his first time, and was a bit skittish.
"Now look here..."
"Abel."
She paused and stared at him, and just for kicks, she blew a heavy dose of smoke at him. She expected something and it was not a wide grin.
"You know what I am —”
"I just gave my name. Common courtesy dictates you do the same." said Abel, and he did so with a straight face.
She scoffed, "first, it was directions. Now it's courtesy. So let me repeat. You know what I am, right?"
Silence.
"It starts with H and ends with R. Or starts with P and ends with E," she said, "so, if directions and courtesy, are all from want from me... " she traced a line across her revealed breast line, "...please move along, before another sees you, and think I'm already taken."
A series of expression flittered through his face, then he spoke, "If it's payment you want, I can pay. Just not for your usual service," he said, "and yes, I do know what you are. I just didn't think it should matter. "
It could have been a laced joke or gibe, and she wanted to be, but it wasn't, and so she couldn't run her mouth, because he spoke as though they were having a normal conversation — when it was past midnight, with the cold wrecking spotty havoc over her skin; coupled with the incessant gun shots — that sounded closer — each time they pierced the quiet night.
"It doesn't appear to be safe here. Get in, give me directions, get paid. We both win."
The situation was strange, payment for direction, it was shady. Girls get missing all the time. It was a corvette, she knew nothing of cars, but it had the slick look of a newer model.
"Why not use your Nav. Console?" she said, "save yourself the cash."
"I did, it's how I got lost in the first place; the lanes don't match up."
True. She had heard of such occurrence. Especially with black zones; like they couldn't be bothered to get the stuff right.
"Ten thousand cred."
"What!?" he said, "you haven't even heard, where I am heading to."
"No need. Vehicle's too flashy, you are obviously mixed, with your lighter shade of black, so you don't live around here. You are heading for the zone's exit, and then onward, toward any of the checkered zones."
"I may be here for someone."
"But you are not. Do we have a deal?"
"OK."
She opened her palm, "half now. The other when we get there."
He chuckled, then there was the rustle of clean bills, and five crisp notes were set upon her open palm. She stared at them and couldn't believe he actually paid.
***
It was a silent ride, except for when he asked of her name, and she said, "Mabel.". He laughed, saying word play —Abel and Mabel. A female version of him, he said. He was unusually happy for something so mundane. She wasn't a betting person, but there was no way she was the first Mabel he had ever met.
The navigation gear must have messed up big time, because they were some distance away from the exit. Past the hotel, close where he had picked her; then straight up, past the iron gates of the cathedral, after the first left turn; then through the school district — all underfunded, where little learning took place; and then through the business district, where all things were overpriced, as people scrapped out a living. From there, it was full throttle, along the deserted four laned road, with blacked out buildings on both sides, as they sped through, toward the exit.
Mental calculations, cascaded in sequence, and before the ten thousand cred was fully realized, it was gone.
She glared disdainfully through the windshield and cursed aloud.
"What?" he asked.
"They are not suppose to be here."
She had studied the checkpoint rotation, in order to avoid unnecessary hassle. But there they were. The money grabbing horde, clad in black, empowered by the law, and now she had fallen right into their net.
The floodlights blinded her, and then the rap of batons against glass, jerked her attention to the side, and the voices demanded they get out of the vehicle.
"Good morning, officers how may I help you?" said Abel, with a smooth tone.
"Believe me, there is plenty you can help us with," drawled one of the officers — whom she recognized as Flint. "For starters; tell me good sir, why you are in the company of a prostitute? At such an ungodly hour to boot," and the others jeered.
Abel, turned toward the one that had spoken, and his face lost all the charm that it had — had all through the ride —when silence had given way to small talk— and then turned stone cold.
Flint, had a diamond shaped faced, with downturned eyes — the color of the sea; and when he spoke — it was in the tone that belayed him a man of good conduct, and godly bringing, wanting nothing but peace. But when tales of those he deemed children of the dark one reached one's ears, especially tales of women, who worked the late night as her; it spoke of a man whose very insides could contain nothing, but house the very blackness of the dark one, he claimed to despise. Religious fanatic.
"Now good sir, I do not like that look in your eye. I could consider it a act of aggression, and be forced to act according. Now be a good sir, and please tamper down your silent animosity."
Silence. Abel was unmoved, his eyes never blinked. She couldn't tell which was more chilling, the late night breeze, or his hard face, which became more pronounced, as though they were carved out of ice, with each second that passed by.
It must had unnerved the officer too, for he continued, "Now we have no problem with you, you might have been a good Samaritan picking a girl from dark street, but the girl in question is no godly girl, for we know her... " of course he knew her, in more than one. Sick bastard, she thought, "... Mabel of the Black District. Many men —
"I would stop talking if I were you," said Abel, in a spine chilling tone.
"Do you consort with children of the dark one, good sir?" said Flint, and she knew he about to go on a dribble, spewing farse, about the holiness of the three faced god. For she'd heard it before, albeit a different variant, while he had his way with her — at a time, when he had caught her, in a similar situation; and several times more. The holiness of the his three faced god, and his body, which was it's temple, had not prevented him from eating of the forbidden fruit of a dark child. Sanctimonious, hypocritical fool.
"The lady, whom you have clearly disrespected, is to be my wife," said Abel, and she sent him what could only be perplexed stare.
"Now good sir, you are just lying to an officer of the law," said Flint, "even the lady in question, is as shocked if not more — for what good man, would attach himself to what we both know, is a harlot; except you sir, are not as good as I have thought you to be."
"You are entitled to your opinion."
"You sure have a mouth on you good sir. Not very wise, for you are in the midst of several a officers of law. A law, which you have broken, through the very act of solicitation."
"Like I said, the lady is —
"Yes, the whore, is to be your wife. Then explain why she looked on you like you just told the greatest lie."
"It was meant to be a surprise, but your words forced —
"Do you hear this boys, the good sir or should I call him John, is lying through his teeth..." A series of mocking laughter, rolled through the air,"...and everyone knows I hate liars. Don't we, sweet Mabel," then he held her right hand, and inspected the fingers, "well look at that, no ring, not even a rubble, talk less of a diamond."
Abel moved, and the crack of rifle, assaulted the air, still he didn't stop. They wouldn't shoot, of this she was sure, they would posture, make laced jokes and comments, but no harm would come to him; her on the other hand — she was a different case. Abel didn't look like one from the lesser districts, everything about him, screamed wealth and class, and gold plated bracelet with black links, which now glinted under the floodlight, showed that he belonged to an even exclusive class. He wouldn't dissappear silently — into the night; people would come looking, and she knew that the last thing Flint wanted, was the wrong set of people looking into the disappearance of a high level citizen, inside the black zone, where several more unrelated disappearance could be uncovered.
Abel must have found what he rummaged for, because he emerged slowly from the car; the officers were tense, and the face of Flint — the face of murder — yet he signalled a stay of weapons.
"You play a dangerous game sir."
"The games I play, are worth more than your entire life time."
There was a small black box, held in his hand, and she couldn't believe her eyes, then he snapped it open, and sitted on a white cushion, was the most beautiful diamond crusted ring, she had ever seen. And she knew, it would never be hers, it belonged to another, in one of those lofty skyscrapers, for no man — who could afford such, could ever be hers. Her past was just too tarnished, to ignore.
"As I said, it was meant to be a surprise, but now, you have made me reveal it in the most unromantic way possible. I hope you are happy officer. Now, can my fiancée and I, leave?"
It was one thing, when he was an assumed untouchable citizen, in the companion of a prostitute. It was another, when said prostitute was engaged to said untouchable citizen.
Flint mouthed words, but there were no sounds, he seemed to have lost the ability to speak.
"I will take that as a yes. Mabel dear, please get into the car."
"Wait," bellowed Flint, "not so fast."
He pulled Abel to a corner, and his face took on the visage of a repentant child, while his mouth moved in quick talk she couldn't decipher, and his hands moved like those orchestra conductors, she had seen on the cable, on those free to air broadcast channels.
Abel pursed his lips while, Flint had a wide grin; then there was a quick exchange of cred, laced in a handshake; a faux salute later, and they were on their way. The checkpoint: a diminishing image on the rear mirror.
They arrived at the zone exit, which was a bridge that stretched over waters, that looked black under the pale light of the moon.
"Thank you."
"What for?"
"They would have let you go. I'm sure you knew that. It was me they wanted."
"Like I said, what you do, shouldn't matter."
"You don't know me."
"Maybe. But who knows, maybe I know more than you think."
"I doubt it."
"What's your account ID, my last cash went to that leech."
"He's more than a leech. And you don't need to pay anymore."
"And if I insist? A deal is a deal, no matter what."
"Well... I did the honorable thing, and dissolved the deal. But if you still feel obligated, who am I to stop you."
The god of deals must have been on his side, for the transaction failed twice, at which point she had to stop him. If he had being a regular John, she might have thought it a ploy, to sneak out of full payment, but knew that it wasn't so, in his case.
Just as she was about to highlight to car, he spoke up.
"What happens when you encounter them again, and they realize the farce."
He was right. It wasn't a matter of if, but when.
"Don't worry, I have their medicine." Between my legs, she thought
"How?"
"Don't play stupid," she said, "I know you are neither dull nor slow," and he looked abashed.
"Forgive me."
"Forgiven. Besides, even though it wasn't real, your quick thinking saved me for today. And, I guess congratulations are on the way. I can tell you will make whoever she is, happy."
For the first time, his eyes left her face, and trailed the length of her body, it was the look in his eyes, and it made her self conscious. She usually used her body to full effect, but he gazed upon her, in a way she wasn't used to. He returned to her face and held her gaze with an intense stare, and she suddenly found her caramel painted nails attractive. An air of nonchalance she hoped.
"Well I got you here," she said, "I have fulfilled my end," then she flashed the cash, "and you, yours. Transaction complete."
"Yes."
With the same concentrated look, he scanned the surrounding, and when he found her gaze again, his forehead was marred with worry lines.
"Will you be okay here, or is there somewhere else I could drop you off?"
She was about to get flippant, just because she was a hooker, dressed to boot, it didn't mean she was helpless, and couldn't take care of herself. She knew the risks, but did what she did anyway. Didn't need any, moral or savior complex in her zone.
"No, there is a eatery just over there,"
"I could take you."
"I'm not as helpless as you think."
"I never said you were."
"Touche. Goodbye Abel."
"You make sound so final."
"Because it is."
"Take care Mabel."
She watched the red tail lights until they faded, then shook her head, "get a grip of yourself. You are what you are." she counted the cash again, and then her stomach gurgled, not in the pretty or cute way; the dying whale kind.
"oh boy. Thank the stars, it didn't happen while I was with him. "
She slipped a thousand cred from the bunch. "One hearty meal, here I come."
