Chapter 1
The street outside the taxi blurred in a mess of reflections and facades.
'Where do you wanna go, pal?', the cabman asked Jason. He shifted in place, looking at the reflection of the cabby in the rear-view mirror. 'Take me to Ollie's. It's a café, near downtown.', he said, returning his gaze to the window. The cabby murmured a response, and the car started off.
'Do you mind?', Jason asked, reaching into the pocket, about to light up a cigarette.
'No, smoke away. Open the window, though.', the cabby responded.
Jason nodded, rolling down the window. The handle hardly moved, but he managed to get enough for the fresh air to flow. He lit up the cigarette and relaxed in his seat. He blankly stared at the ceiling, blowing streams of smoke at it. At some point, he caught himself exploring the slashed metallic texture, counting the shapes.
'Hey, cabby. What's your name?', Jason asked out of the blue.
'Tom.', cabby responded. 'Yours?'
'Jason. Nice to meet you.', Jason said, going quiet for a minute. 'Tell me, Tom, do you like your job?'
'Why'd you ask?', Tom asked, then sighed.
Jason noticed that. 'Something wrong?', he asked.
Tom pointed at the car in front of them. 'Looks like a traffic jam. Fuck, we're stuck here for a while.'
'All and all, good time to chat, innit?', Jason said, chuckling. 'I asked if you like your job, by the way, because I'm kinda curious.'
'Ah, right, we're back on that subject, aren't we.', Tom grunted. Jason only now picked that Tom looked like someone late on the peak of heroin chic. 'Well, someone's gotta take y'all clods to the destination.'
'That's not what I asked.', Jason said. 'I take it you don't like the job, then?'
'Well… Mildly. Best way to put it.', Tom said.
'Nice way, indeed. Why don't you change it, then? Surely you could put your efforts somewhere better.', Jason said.
The car moved for a moment. Tom grumbled quietly at the other drivers but otherwise kept calm. 'Yeah, sure, I could. I want to. Kinda. Just gotta earn some cash to move on.'
'So, the moment you'll earn your cash, you'll get a new job, new life? Is that the case?', Jason asks, his tone gets a bit sarcastic.
'Something like that, yeah.', Tom said, an absent look on his face. 'Oh, fucking finally.'
Jason almost opened his mouth to say something but was silenced by the car, starting off once more. He silently looked in the window. The evening was approaching. The sky was palleted in scarlet-red and shades of blue. The crescent moon shyly looked out on the opposite end of the horizon. Jason gazed at the sight. His cigarette was long gone, hanging on the corner of his mouth.
The car stopped near the corner. Jason was bewildered for a moment, looking at Tom with confusion. He looked in the other window, realizing that they have arrived. A flashy neon sign reading 'Ollie's' alluringly sparkled in the dark. Two big windows revealed a cozy institution.
'We're here, chief. Fifty bucks from you.', Tom said. Jason nodded, passing the money to him, then got out of the car. He fixed the collar of his jacket, looking at the yellow car, moving away. Despair, he thought, that's what would describe you best, Tom. Best of luck.
Jason walked into the café. The barista turned to see who came in. His looks reminded Jason of a dried peach, just as wrinkled and round. He beckoned Jason to the counter, smiling. He could only comply, unable to resist such a charming hospitality, chuckling.
'You ain't changing, Paul. Good to see you.', Jason said, shaking hands with the barista.
'You too, J. Black coffee, the usual?', Paul asked.
'Yeah, I'll go with black.', Jason responded, nodding.
The TV above the corner of the counter hummed a commercial. Best toothpaste on the market, come and buy, only 5,98$. Jason cringed a little but otherwise was calm. Soon, Paul was back, leaving a cup of fresh coffee near Jason.
'Thanks.', Jason said. 'Could you tune it to the news? Or I will see this commercial in my dream.'
Paul chuckled. 'Sure.', he said, changing the channel. Jason nodded, then switched his attention to the TV.
'And now to the international news. A group referring to themselves as Black Goat has taken responsibility for the recent attack on CCG in Japan.', the announcer said.
'What do you think they're trying to achieve?.', Paul asked, looking at the TV, then switching his gaze to Jason.
'Do I look like a terrorist guidebook to you, eh?', Jason chuckled, sipping his coffee. 'Maybe they're trying to bring up the attention. Expect an attack on TV broadcast soon.'
'…Now that you mention it, you do look like a walking, talking guide for terrorists, J.', Paul said, snickering.
Jason gave up, waving his hand at Paul. The barista rolled his eyes, then wandered off to serve another client. Jason returned his gaze to the TV, sipping his coffee when someone touched his shoulder. He turned around again, wondering who it might be. Adam, a man with a complexion of a burned match, smiled at him. He sat on the stool nearby, asking for a coffee, then looked at Jason.
'Nice to see you off work, pal! Came here for some grub, eh?', Adam asked, fixing his hair.
'Hi, Adam. You know that ain't true.', Jason said.
Adam gave him a smug grin. 'Yep, just teasing you.', he said.
'You're a bitch. You know that, right?', Jason said, sipping the coffee.
'And the best there is.', Adam said, pride in his voice. 'What do you think about those Black Goats?'
Jason rubbed his chin. 'They believe in what they're trying to achieve. The leader, anyway. If they'll be smart and go V for Vendetta, I mean, capture the TV station, they might just get it.', he said, finally.
'I think Paul was right. You are a terrorist's manual on legs.', Adam said, giggling. 'I wonder why the police hadn't interested in you yet.'
Jason chuckled. 'Look at me. I'm adorable.', he said, brushing his fingers against his 9 o'clock shadow.
'You're as adorable as a cactus.', Adam said.
Jason smirked. He finished the cup and left the money on the counter. 'Bye, Adam.', he said, leaving the café.
He breathed in the fresh, night air. A cigarette. A drag. Hot smoke leaves his lungs in a stream. Jason smiled. It's a beautiful night, he thought. He turned up the collar of his jacket. His house was in twenty minutes on foot. He always appreciated a good walk.
The nightlife in the city was springing. The people that Jason encountered on his way were excited, anxious. Everyone was anticipating a good night's entertainment, rightfully earned. Nightclubs were attracting racketing crowds, wild companies. Dope dealers and hookers were already in place, ready to serve everything the people need. Someone received a blowjob down in the alleyway.
Soon, Jason arrived at an apartment house. He pushed the door, stepping inside, routinely checked the mailbox. The number 15 on the metallic surface of the box was barely recognizable, worn from time. It was empty. Jason ran up on the third floor. The corridor, leading to his apartment, was weakly illuminated by a twinkling lamp. The mosaic floor missed some pieces. He approached the door with gilded metallic numbers, reading 15. A click of the lock. The door opened with a soft creak.
Jason stepped inside. As soon as he took off his shoes, he headed to the fridge. Opening it, he reached for a piece of meat. Jason stared at it for a moment, then planted it on a plate and put it in the microwave to thaw. While it was defrosting, he thoroughly washed his hands and took out the meat grinder. A ping. He smelled the aroma, his mouth watered. Jason accurately processed the piece through the grinder on the plate, then gently molded the forcemeat into small balls. He wished he could make the meat softer. The frying pan warmed up on the stove. The oil sprinkled when the meat touched it. The room filled with a smell of a cooked meal.
Soon, Jason's dinner was ready. He didn't think about it, just chewed and enjoyed the taste. The meatballs were tender and soft. He stared blankly at the dishes as he finished eating. It was delicious, more than he thought it'd be. Jason absentmindedly went to the bedroom and set the alarm clock. It was time for him to sleep.
The phone rang. Jason listened closely, then went to the sound's source. The LED display gleamed through the fabric of his jacket. He picked it up. The number was unknown. Hesitantly, Jason answered the call.
'Who's that?', Jason asked.
'JC, I don't have much time.', the man on the phone said. He sounded nervous, frightened. 'I've got problems, big time. Come to my place ASA- FUCK!'
Jason heard a thud, sounds of an intense fight in the background, screams. He dropped the call. The voice was familiar to him. He instantly dressed up, went out from the apartment and caught a cab. The night promised to be restless.