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chapter 5: Tyrone “King” Fischer

“So are you going to talk to him?” Shireese asked.

She and Tanis sat at the kitchen table folding flyers for the band while Indigo washed dishes in the sink behind them.

“I did talk to him,” Indigo said. “We’ve got plans for Friday.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,” Shireese said dryly. She lifted a pile of flyers, setting them into the box next to Tanis. “He’s gonna find out at some point.”

Indigo picked a plate out of the sink, dropping it with a splash into the rinse water, her fingers swirling the surface. When she didn’t answer, Shireese pushed on.

“When he asks about you, you’re gonna have to say something,” she said. “Might be easier if you tell him on your own.”

Indigo fished several clean dishes out of the water, arranging them in the drying rack before pulling a tea towel from the oven door. She turned around, leaning against the sink, her eyes on the middle distance as she dried the plates.

“He won’t ask,” she grumbled. “He only knows me from the university.”

Shireese glanced up, eyebrows raised. “He’ll ask eventually. You leave it too long, it’ll make it harder to explain.”

Indigo set the plate down onto the counter with a clatter, and Tanis jumped.

“I don’t know why you’re going on about this,” Indigo growled. “It’s dinner. Nothing else!”

“You said that about coffee,” Shireese replied. “And yet here you are.”

Indigo swore under her breath, tossing the dishtowel to the counter. Rising from the table, Tanis nervously cleared her throat, moving past Shireese and heading into the living room without a word.

“If I were you, I’d tell him before you’re in too deep,” Shireese added.

“Well, you’re NOT me!" she snapped, her hands rolling into fists.

Shireese gave her a level glare.

“You’re the one who said ‘never again.’ You did! I’m just reminding you.” Shireese folded one last flier, then tossed it in the box. She lifted her chin, daring Indigo to argue. “You were the one who said, ‘don’t ever let me—”

“Jude comes from someplace nice,” Indigo hissed. “He wouldn’t understand!”

Shireese scowled, sudden anger passing between the two women like lightening. In the other room, a television flicked on, the sound a comforting buzz neither noticed.

“You say that like you believe it,” Shireese snarled, her accent changing, taking on an insolent inner-city burr. “Like you’ve already told him and you haven’t even tried!”

“I told Cal, alright! It f*cked EVERYTHING up! So thanks for nothing!”

Shireese stood from the table.

“That had nothing to do with me!”

“Hardly!” Indigo sneered. “He coulda gone on forever without knowing.”

“Cal was an a*shole,” Shireese yelled. “He just needed an excuse to show it!”

Indigo gave her a hard smile. “And you just LOVED that, didn’t you!”

Shireese’s lips twisted.

“Go on then, feel sorry for yourself! You’re good at that.”

Indigo’s mouth dropped into an indignant ‘o’, but in seconds she was back on the offensive. “And who says Jude’s not an a*shole too?” she taunted. “Huh? Who says he’s any better than the rest?!”

“Is THAT what you’re lookin’ for? A f*ck up?” Shireese snapped. “’Cause you’re just gonna dig yourself another hole then!” Her eyes narrowed. “And I’m only gonna help you out so many times, Indigo. I’ve got my own problems too, y’know!”

In the living room, Tanis cranked up the volume on the television another notch. Canned laughter filled the kitchen.

“I don’t need anyone’s help!”

“When you’re acting like THIS?” Shireese coughed. “Yes, you DO!”

Indigo’s feet widened, fists upraised. It was the stance of a fighter, ready to attack.

“I’m NOT your goddamned project,” she bellowed. “So you can go F*ck YOURSELF!”

“No,” Shireese growled. “You’re the only one who gets off on that.”

With an explosive blast of swearing, Indigo shoved past Shireese and into the hallway. Tanis was watching her, wide-eyed, but Indigo didn’t stop. She grabbed her purse, heading out the door.

In the kitchen, Shireese stood silent for several more seconds, breath slowing. Her face lost the antagonism, growing weary instead. With a shake of her head, she walked to the drying rack, picked up the first dish, and began to dry.

: : : : : : : : : :

Marq stood on the sidewalk outside the office building, his foot tapping nervously. It looked like any other downtown high-rise, but the guard who stood at the front door made it clear this was not a place you walked in off the street. The man scanned the people on the sidewalk from behind mirrored glasses, his voice hard and cold.

“You need to wait here, Mr. Lopez,” he ordered, putting his hand in his pocket so that the lapel of his jacket pulled back just enough for Marq to see the gun in its holster. “I’ll call up to see if Mr. Fischer is ready to see you.”

Marq took a shaky breath, wiping sweaty palms on his pant legs and waiting.

The last time he’d done a job, Luca had dropped off the money at the same time he’d picked up the hard drive. Marq hadn’t needed to do anything other than show up at Starbucks. He wished that they’d been able to do it the same way this time too.

Being here made it real.

The lock behind them buzzed, and Marq swivelled, catching sight of Luca’s grinning face in the open doorway. Tall and blond, he was built like a body builder, the suit and tie he wore at odds with his physique.

“Marq, my friend!” he laughed. “I was wondering when you’d get here.” He stepped back, pulling the door wide and gesturing for him to come forward. “Come in! Come in!”

Luca Brin wasn’t someone you f*cked around with. Until a few days ago, Marq had known only a fraction of what he did: passing along jobs and recruiting people for hacking projects. But after yesterday’s call, that had changed. The moment Luca had told him that King wanted to see him, everything had fallen into place.

Tyrone “King” Fischer was a man who needed no introduction. He was the city’s mob boss; a man who political candidates rallied against during elections, but who politicians in office never spoke of. Rumours said that half the police force was on his payroll, and that he had ties to crime families across the United States.

This was the man who’d paid Marq to create the banking program.

Following Luca into the elevator, Marq’s stomach tightened. It was too late to back out now, the stakes too high. Luca stood beside him, chatting happily about football and the nightclubs downtown where he went with friends; what he’d lost in the last few games and what he expected to make next week.

“You come down some night,” Luca said with a grin. “I’ll buy you a drink, eh?”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds great,” Marq muttered, tugging anxiously at his collar.

The elevator slowed just as Marq’s ears popped. It shuddered to a stop and the doors opened.

“When you step out, put your hands on your head,” Luca said cheerfully. “Just a precaution, of course. You know how it is.”

He put a hand on Marq’s shoulder, pushing him forward into what looked like the foyer of an expensive apartment. Marq’s toe hit the edge of the elevator and he stumbled just as two armed men crossed the floor to his side. In seconds he’d been frisked, his pockets emptied of a pack of tic-tacs, a hard drive, and his wallet.

“He’s clean,” a nameless man said.

Luca knocked on an interior door, waiting for an answer. Marq stood, his hands still on his head, until one of the men tapped his elbow.

“You can put your hands down now,” he said.

Marq turned, finding a man watching him with inquisitive dark eyes.

“Th-thanks, Mr…” he stammered.

The man scowled.

“Patel.”

“You can head inside,” Luca called. “King’s waiting.”

Marq came forward on wobbling legs. Luca grinned at him, and for a second, Marq flashed to the dog who’d lived in the brownstone next to his when he’d been a kid. The dog was always wagging its tail when it bit you. He forced himself to keep moving, wincing as the door clicked closed behind him.

At the desk sat a heavy-set man, his hands steepled before him. He looked to be in his late forties or fifties, with greying hair and sallow, olive skin. A long silver scar ran from the edge of his mouth, across his jaw and into his hairline. The scar tugged one side of his face into a perpetual smirk, the expression out of place on his face. Marq fought down the urge to run as he met King’s gaze.

His eyes were a solid black, mean and unwavering.

“Mr. Lopez,” King said darkly. “Seems I’ve got another job for you…”

: : : : : : : : : :

Jude was playing an online war game when his cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, catching sight of the name:

Lopez, M.

Pausing the game, he unlocked his phone and put it to his ear.

“Hey Mark,” he said. “Where the hell you been? I’ve been getting the crap kicked out of me all night!”

Marq gave a nervous laugh.

“I um, I’ve just been busy with some business stuff. Had a meeting tonight.”

“Business?” Jude said in confusion. ‘Business’ and ‘Marq’ went together as well as fast food and Olympic athletes.

“Yeah, business,” Marq repeated. “Just got paid for the program we did. Client’s happy.”

“Cool!” Jude said. He’d been hoping to have a little spare cash before Friday.

“I have another job,” Marq said. “That is, if you want it.”

“Sure,” Jude answered. “Doing what?”

“Same kind of thing,” Marq said. “A bit of programming, a virus this time.”

“A virus?” Jude groaned. He hated shit like that. Reminded him too much of high school kids and anarchists. Elliot had badgered him twice more since the gym. It was hard to ignore the consequences when the person you lived with was always reminding you of them.

“Yeah, nothing too hard,” Marq said. “Just a Trojan to work alongside the skimming program we created. A bit of back door code to let someone get in.” He paused. “I uh, I really need your help on this one. It’s a little out of my league.”

Jude’s eyebrows pulled together in concern. Marq sounded weird tonight, like he was upset about something but didn’t want to say what. Jude turned back to the screen. His player was still paused, but he could see the other teams racking up points on the board. He scowled; he didn’t have time for a heart to heart right now.

“Yeah, Marq,” Jude answered distractedly, “I’ll help you with it. Same deal as last time?”

“Even better! It’ll make this last payout look small.”

“Can’t complain about that,” Jude laughed.

“And thanks,” Marq added. “Jude, I owe you one for this.”

Jude clicked restart, cradling his phone between his chin and shoulder as his player launched back into action.

“You owe me more than that,” he said, firing into a group of attacking soldiers. “You still haven’t paid me for the last program!”

“I’ll get you the money tomorrow at work,” Marq said, “And we can talk about the virus then. Seriously man, this is big. Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” Jude said, his mind already back on the game.

: : : : : : : : : :

Indigo walked the streets for hours after the fight with Shireese, staying out until the cold forced her back toward the apartment. There was a sharp bite to the air tonight, bits of ice crystals filtering down from the sky, frosting the windows of parked cars on the street. Indigo walked in a seemingly random pattern, her footsteps attuned to the dangers of the city. She avoided the dark openings to alleys, stepping around the groups of people who occasionally appeared on doorsteps, watching her with interest. She didn’t want trouble tonight. Didn’t want anything, actually, except to go home and sleep.

If she’d had money in her purse, she would have gone to a bar and drunk herself sick. Maybe gone home with someone afterward, willing to trade a warm body for a warm bed. She’d done that a time or two. But Indigo’s pockets were empty, and the thought of finding someone dumb enough to grift was too exhausting to consider. She’d been furious when she’d stormed off, but with her irritation fading, Shireese’s words made sense.

She did look for f*ck ups.

Shoulders slumping, Indigo began angling toward home. The accusation hurt, because there was truth to it. Jude Alden the nerd – attractive though he might be – had been too mild for her tastes. She only started to care when he stopped being nice. When he disappeared for two weeks without a word, and didn’t come around see her. When he snooped around for her phone number, and assumed she’d be okay with that. (Indigo frowned. Shireese swore she hadn’t given that to him.) And then he’d kissed her without permission, and been just a bit too rough.

Just like that, she was hooked.

Indigo let out a weary sigh, burrowing her nose low in the upturned collar of her jacket. Up ahead, the dark rectangle of the subway station stairs appeared, and Indigo skirted away from it, crossing to the other side of the street. It was warm down there, and she was almost guaranteed to run into the kind of attention she didn’t want. For a moment, Jude’s face appeared in her mind, and she pushed it away. Indigo wanted ‘nice’ or at least that’s what she thought she wanted, until something else cropped up. She’d spent too many years on the wrong side of happy, and no matter what she said when she felt good, get her angry and she was right back on the street where she’d started.

Reaching the apartment, she jogged up the front steps, keys in hand, relieved that no one was lingering outside this time of night. In minutes she’d climbed the four sets of stairs, and stood outside the apartment door, panting. She closed her eyes, remembering a long ago afternoon when she’d shown up for work at The Vault, black eye covered with too much concealer.

Shireese had been working the day shift, cleaning and polishing, but she’d come up to Indigo in the staffroom.

“It won’t get better until you get out,” Shireese had said. “I know that from experience.”

“Get out, where?” Indigo had snarled, lighting a cigarette off the dying embers of the last. “Got no place to go.”

“You can crash on my couch for a week,” Shireese had answered. “A week… that’s it.”

Opening her eyes, Indigo slid the key in the lock, opening the door as quietly as the aging building would allow. A light was on in the kitchen. Seeing it, Indigo wilted. She relocked the door, dropping her purse on the floor and heading inside. Shireese sat at the table, the flyers neatly stacked in the box, the posters organized by group, ready to spread across the city. She lifted her eyes, watching Indigo as she came to stand next to the counter where they’d argued hours earlier.

“Tanis is really happy about the posters,” Shireese said quietly.

“Thanks.”

Several long seconds passed, the two friends watching each other warily.

“You okay?” Shireese asked. “You were gone a while.”

“Went for a walk.”

Shireese nodded.

Indigo glanced at the empty dish rack, and then at the table, and finally to Shireese, waiting. She didn’t know why her friend put up with her, but she did. And then it struck her that maybe Shireese liked f*cked up people too.

“I’ve um, I’ve got class in the morning,” Indigo muttered, heading across the room, not holding Shireese’ eye. “I should get some sleep.”

“Night then,” Shireese replied.

Indigo didn’t answer.