The neon sign flashed open repeatedly. Individuals seldom walked in and out. Any who did prepay before removing the gas handle never bothered to enter.
Beside a discarded cigarette and an empty water bottle, the gas station's maintenance was clearly kept neat.
Derek, a dark-skinned man with a striking beard and rough face emerged from the gas station, pocketing his wallet. His neutral expression could easily be mistaken for discontent with the world. A head above most men.
Phone ringing, Derek answered.
"Hey babe." Derek smiled.
"Yeah, just getting some gas. Need something?" He popped the fuel door while grabbing the pump and selecting the grade.
"Really?" He sighed. "Right, I remember you telling me that. Alright, I'll pick up a couple bags of tissue. I should be home in about an hour."
Hanging up, Derek finished filling his car and put the pump nozzle back in place.
As he settled into his seat, he heard thumping. Damn it. Rolling his eyes, Derek glowered at the back seat despite it being empty.
"Unless you've got the strength of superman, I'd suggest you stop kicking my damn car. It's not going to do any good." Derek cautioned though the continuous pounding told him his advice was ignored.
Shifting into drive, Derek cruised out of the parking lot and rode down the street. Stopping at a red light, his eyes took note of his left and right as well as the traffic light's color.
As soon as the green light flashed, Derek turned right and swerved onto a dirt road. He held his seatbelt as he ran over the small rocks.
Crack! Snap! Pop!
The car rocked, uneven and shooting rocks from under the tire. To drown out the hammering from the trunk, he twisted the knob on the radio as it played a drum and bass heavy tune.
The singer's raw and distressed voice fell in sync with the gravel rolling beneath.
Taking an outlet, Derek arrived on a paved street. The car returned to balance and Derek parked.
He exited the car and patted his hip before opening the trunk.
A man lay there, knees near his stomach. Hands duct-taped behind his back and reinforced with rope. His mouth had been given the same treatment.
"Are you done?" Derek asked, bored.
~
Rain pattered against the window. Cars streaked by leaving yellow and red streaks in afterimages. Resting his head in his palm, Sean stared out as he daydreamed in the passenger seat.
The driver stared ahead, never initiating. No questions. No shared interests. Sean preferred it this way. The ride soon took its toll, and the serenity induced Sean with sleep.
Clunk!
The front of the car jerked up followed by the back. Sean's butt separated from the seat for two seconds before his head bumped off the headrest, blinking. What the hell is this?
He fixated on the outside. A couple houses were boarded up. One appeared to be ready to fall in on itself. A particular yard had a refrigerator, two or three washing machines and dryers, and a gray tarp resting over a vehicle. Vagrants roamed. A few people idled on their porch, enjoying the atmosphere or smoking marijuana. I can smell that shit from here!
Enduring the prominent smell for ten or fifteen minutes, the car finally distanced itself from the neighborhood. Hopefully, I don't have to go there but knowing what I'm herefor... Quick to dismiss, Sean shifted his focus forward.
Slowing into a motel parking lot, Sean cocked a brow. Huh. I did not expect this. The agency did have the money to afford a nice hotel for the operation, but Sean made assumptions.
Firstly, if I were in a particularly nice hotel and if I were to be tracked in the future, they wouldn't know my backer... but they'd know that my backer had plenty of resources and that would make my job harder. Here, I'm ordinary. A part of the background. Even if they do track me, as long as I don't leave anything special behind...
"I thought I'd at least be able to order room service." Sean inserted humor into the silence.
Neither he nor the driver so much as smirked or scoffed. Sean opened the door as the driver handed him the key.
"Anything you need is already in that room. Be wary of inviting any companions or strays. Word can travel and you don't want the wrong person getting a hold of it." The driver informed. Sean paused for four seconds and grabbed his backpack before leaving the car.
As he heard the engine fade, his eyes wandered to its door then his key. Room 206. In the past, Sean had seen plenty of motels filled with detestable people, addicts and one or two whores.
However, the balconies were clean. There wasn't junk or loose trash lying around. No marijuana smell either. I can be thankful for that at least.
Finding his room on the second floor, Sean looked out at the city before unlocking the door and entering his room.
The furnishings weren't terrible. A made bed. A TV sitting above a dresser. Two sinks with a wide mirror with a couple smudges to indicate a half effort in cleanliness. Beside the bed stood a nightstand with a classic landline phone and a lamp.
Peeking under the bed, Sean found a suitcase. Must be the things that I'll need. Hoisting himself onto the bed, Sean laid out and studied the fan. All that's to do now is figure out what exactly I need to do with my life. Sean let out a self-deprecating laugh.
How the hell am I supposed to find this gang? Should I ask around to find a marijuana supplier? Then again, that doesn't guarantee the individual is connected to a gang. Is there a way to get their attention? Shelter one of them? Help them avoid authorities when I witness a crime in progress? It's not like I can predict when something will happen. Infiltration... it would be great if I knew who exactly to talk to. Maybe I should take in the sights for a few days. Talk to people. Be courteous and warm. Considering the situation, if they have any kindness, they'll warn me where not to go and I can start there.
~
Yawning, Isha opened her back door for morning air. The sun hadn't risen completely but the warmth from the rays still bathed her skin and improved her mood. Good opportunity to grab a smoke. Then the back door a few feet from her opened.
Abby stretched. Wearing sports shorts and a t-shirt, she smacked her lips, feeling the dryness in her mouth. She cut a look to her right after feeling a presence.
"Morning, Isha." Abby turned to her with one hand on her hip.
"Hope things weren't too loud last night but I didn't want to leave everything in the car and risk it being broken into."
Isha chuckled. "I was so exhausted yesterday that you could've broken into my house."
"Doubt there'd be anything in there worth stealing." Abby quipped. Isha laughed then stuck her head through the door and snatched her cigarettes and lighter off a small table. She knocked a cigarette up and lit it.
"Why move extra things in? It's not like you'll be staying here for long." Isha asked.
"I want everyone to feel comfortable. No one can properly study if the hardwood or a couch is their mattress."
Abby's nose twitched unpleasantly.
"Seriously, Isha. It's not even breakfast time." Abby criticized. Isha removed the cigarette and shrugged.
"You try working and attending classes." Isha retorted.
"I do both just fine. Instead of tobacco, it's caffeine. Something that's a better alternative than whatever you're doing." Abby pinched her nose.
"Maybe try vaping? At least it smells better." Guess I'll try not to smoke around Abby so much in the future. Isha never got a proper reaction from Abby as when they moved into the apartments a month ago, Abby would spend most of her time away from home.
Isha presumed that Abby worked at a night club as a dancer or a bartender but considering she never saw a costume or uniform, the theory had long been dead. A factory job wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Isha remembered her mother getting home at around six or seven in the morning from a factory job for two years. But Abby doesn't seem exhausted from a night of work... ever.
"I'd rather smell like this than a bouquet of flowers." Isha tapped, letting the ash fall to the ground.
Behind Abby, someone emerged. Slightly taller than Abby. His dreads were streaked with white and a mole rested under one of his brown irises.
He wore shorts and a t-shirt.
"Who the hell is...?" He froze.
"Good morning..." Isha greeted. Abby jumped.
"... Hello." He responded.
"When did you get back?" Abby seemed confused.
"You think I'd be going out to drink piss?" Azhir grumbled.
"Whatever. I need some coffee." Abby sauntered into the apartment. Azhir tracked her a couple of steps before he trained on Isha. She noticed his face didn't show an expression.
"You know cigarettes stink for a reason." Azhir stated outright. Isha studied the ember burning on one end, then shifted back to him as if waiting for more.
"You should be elated that your voice isn't too stained from all that tobacco that's in your system."
His gaze zeroed in on her mouth. Isha parted her lips for another drag and Azhir's consciousness froze the frame. Her teeth aren't as yellow as a normal smoker. She must brush often. Azhir held the thought.
"Besides Abby, you know anyone else on campus?" Isha ignored his comments. Azhir shook his head. Tossing the singed butt, she popped another out. Azhir angled himself for the smoke to not waft in his nose.
"What's going on with you? Running away from home? Kicked out from somewhere?" Isha pressed.
"..." A flicker of memory showed but his cold expression returned almost the second it left.
"... you don't have to tell me if..." Isha braced to apologize.
"Abby is a distant cousin of mine and she places a high value on family. I attended classes online because I couldn't afford to stay here. I couldn't cohabitate with my family while studying. When Abby heard about me and my situation, she offered me a place." Azhir explained with minor fluctuations in his tone.
... That's... strangely expressive. Abby never told me about a distant cousin, but I've only known the woman for around two months so... Isha pursed her lips.
"Family can be a pain in the ass sometimes." Isha remarked.
"Very." Azhir agreed flatly.
"The campus isn't anything special, though." Isha gestured around them. "Small, not too many people around. It's not the most popular university around."
"I prefer it that way." Azhir answered. Suddenly, Abby appeared with two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Azhir, politely warning him of the temperature. After a couple of light blows, he sipped, and for a moment, savored the taste.
"Needs more creamer." He suggested.
~
Pacing in the afternoon rain, Carson checked his watch. Isn't she supposed to be here by now? He scanned the motel structure to note any potential gossipers. Usually, people minded their business but growing up, whether from children, teenagers, or adults, there was always a story to tell from one action.
Across the street, he noticed three men and two women. Their conversation seemed lively, filled with relationship drama, bitchy bosses, and past experiences. Their cadence vibrated with a blitzed calm. Movements a little too sluggish.
Through a hallway leading to the stairs, Zuri shrunk her umbrella before shaking it out. Finally. Carson went over to meet her.
"May the Force be with you." Carson waved and smiled.
Zuri scoffed, eyes shifting to the side for a second too long.
"That's the password you decided for us? Seriously?" Although Zuri heard the phrase before, she couldn't recall which franchise it came from. She never invested in it, nor did she care to in the future.
"You're so boring." Carson complained. They both walked to the second floor and came to Room 206.
Knock. Tap.
Letting five seconds pass, Carson knocked twice and placed hands in his pockets. The door creaked open and Zuri's eyes widened.
"... little shit..." Zuri hissed.
Sean motioned for them to enter. While Carson mapped the room, commenting on the lack of amenities, Zuri glared at Sean. Instead of reciprocating, Sean scrolled on the laptop in his lap.
Emerging from the bathroom, Carson scratched his head as he heard the silence.
"... Sean... what did you do to her...?" Carson's eyes dragged between them.
The ends of his lips twitched. "It doesn't matter."