"Me too."
Tabby hung up, and I sighed, not looking forward to the next call I had to make. I dialed up Mark's cell phone, the one he'd given me for emergency matters. True to the nature of the number, he picked up after only one ring. "What's up, rook?"
"I really wish you'd stop calling me that," I said, a smile still coming to my face. "Although I guess it's better than amateur. Listen Mark, I need to talk with you. Tabby's going to be on the phone with you in about two minutes, and there's information that you and I need to discuss about it that she doesn't know."
"Are you telling me this because you don't want Tabby to know, or because she isn't in a need to know position?" Mark asked.
I chose my words carefully. "A bit of both. It has to do with my old life, and a connection to the Knave. Think you can get some time away from the house for a lunch?"
"Not at City Hall, I hope," Mark replied. "This scar isn't that much of a disguise."
"No, I was thinking the Park," I replied. "It's a public enough place, we could both blend in."
"Deal. One hour?"
"Deal. And Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. Uhm, I'm going to need your advice on this one, I've let it go a while without bringing it up, and I don't know how to do it right," I said, feeling my face burn. "Jesus, I didn't plan this at all. Just, there's shit in my past."
"Shit that is hard to bring up to special people," Mark completed. "Yeah, that's a challenge. Okay. One hour."
I hung up my phone and sat back, just thinking. Fucking Scott Pressman.
I made it to the Park with a few minutes to spare, and went over to the bandstand that Mark had texted me to meet him at. In my hands was a bag from Burger King, a guilty pleasure that I hadn't indulged in all month. I saw Mark coming and waved, having ditched my work sport coat for a Spartans hoodie. We looked like two normal working class guys having lunch, with him wearing a jean jacket along with black denim. He was carrying a plastic bag that when he got closer I saw was from a sub shop nearby. "Sophie's going to want to kick your ass for that," he greeted me with as we slapped hands. "But I won't say anything."
"Thanks. Honest though, I haven't done this in weeks," I replied. I took out my burger and began. "So Tabby talked with you?"
"Don't worry about that," Mark replied, "I've got a Boston law firm that I've used for a lot of my contract stuff before. They're good enough to keep anybody that Pressman can hire off our tails, and just shady enough that they know how to protect our ass. But I doubt that's the reason you called."
I shook my head after taking a huge bite of my burger. Cheese, mustard, pickles, mayo..... pure heaven. "I know Pressman," I said bluntly, "or at least I did."
Mark nodded slowly and started on his lunch. "I figured as much. Some of the things you've said, you have more knowledge on the Knave than what a simple former bartender would. How do you know him?"
I blinked and shook my head, frustrated. "Back in my high school days. Hell, this would have been before you even moved here, I think. I was just thirteen, Scott was fifteen, sixteen maybe? Anyway, he was already into being a player, although back then it was being a player more than what he turned into. All of the guys in our little group thought he was so damn cool. Did you know by the time he graduated high school he'd already slept with half the female teachers including the Vice Principal of the school? And they talk about that shit on TV nowadays like its some sort of scandal. Scott Pressman was a walking scandal, and nobody said a damn thing."
"I'm not surprised. I never met him except for that one time."
I laughed, remembering when the news broke about the Knave's 'injury.' "Yeah, I was working the bar back then. Pressman himself came in, pissed off and so fucking depressed he could barely talk straight. I hadn't seen him in at least five years, not since him and I had a falling out, but for some reason he came in that night, already half drunk. I cleared out the bar, I didn't want some Confederation guy talking enough stupid shit to get the place shot up, and he proceeded to dump his whole story in my lap. I was damn near pissing my pants laughing until he put the forty-five on the table. Pressman might not have been a normally violent man you know, but you'd just taken away his dick."
"So what's the problem?" Mark asked. "I mean, Sophie knows about my history with Anita Han."
"You and Han?" I asked. "Really? I knew you made the hit, but there was more?"
Mark nodded. "For about a year I was one of her boys. Never emotional mind you, but she taught me a few things I still use to this day. Sophie was fine when she found out."