Locked: Chapter 2
Bobbi slept most of the flight, waking up only to stumble to the bathroom. On the first trip she fell over when she stood up too suddenly on legs that had fallen asleep. Chatters went up in the aisles and those who were awake gasped or tried to conceal a chuckle. An older lady in the left aisle got out of her seat to help the woman up. Bobbi simply brushed her away without a word. Her head swam as she lifted herself off the floor and she wanted to crawl to the bathroom instead but didn't want to make a spectacle out of it. Perhaps more so of a spectacle. The second bathroom trip was to throw up. When it was announced that the flight was about to land, Bobbi was shaken awake by the same old woman who had tried to help her up earlier. By the time the plane disembarked it was half past five am.
She hailed a taxi at the airport and gave directions instructions for the driver to let her off a block from her designated meeting point. The floors in the car were filthy, the mats covered with brown dirt and the air was stagnant. It was a silent drive save for the brief moment when Bobbi had to tell the driver to crank down a goddamn window because the button on her side was jammed. Rows of palm trees whizzed by her vision. They were vibrant and full of life, a contradiction to how she felt sitting in the musty vehicle. The taxi finally pulled into a space by the sidewalk and came to a stop.
"Fifty bucks."
Bobbi lifted her hips awkwardly to reach into her back pocket and produce a ten, a fiver spilling out as well. It fluttered down under the car seat and she stretched back with her leg, trying to drag the bill out with her boot. The driver watched on in bewilderment as the woman twisted herself like a pretzel. For a period of stunned silence, the only sounds made were scuffing noises. Finally, she reached down after successfully scraping the bill from underneath and handed the rumpled paper money over. It drooped like wilted flowers in her fingers.
"Keep the change."
The driver glared and kept his hands on the wheel. The price on the counter was clearly indicated but Bobbi hadn't even glanced over to check it.
"I said fifty, this is fifteen."
"That's alright, keep the change" she slurred. Everything happened in a frenzy afterwards. Bobbi opened passenger door and crawled towards it. Hastily the driver reached for her waist, her arm, anything to keep her from leaving and running off with his money. He grabbed her leg, yelling profanities and threatening to report her. Her head was halfway out the door and she awkwardly struggled to maintain upright. Looking down at the red and blotchy driver in disgust, she kicked his head in, or more accurately; stomped on his face. And then again for good measure.
"You sack of shit!"
The pressure on her leg was released immediately as his hands flew to his nose to staunch the oozing blood.
As she got out she slammed the door and tucked two twenties under one of the windshield wipers.
Then kicked in a headlight. It didn't shatter on impact so she had to kick it a second time.
A kid standing across the street saw this and began laughing obnoxiously at her. When she flipped him the bird, he only returned it with an additional chocolate-smeared leer. Bobbi had a snarl plastered on her face for the rest of her walk.
The meeting destination was tucked away in an alcove. The entire building had bits of peeling paint with aged and dirty windows yet the door looked brand new- it was a hideous combination. She rapped on the door harshly and leaned against the wall while she waited.
Noticing that her knuckles were now blue, she realized why the door looked so clean.. The paint was still wet.
"What's the password?" Was the muffled reply from inside.
"There isn't a password." Bobbi snapped, angry about the paint stains on her hand.
The door opened shortly after to reveal a balding, stocky man. He fidgeted with a handkerchief, wiping down each hand in turn. This was Dick Blum. He was unfortunately named and threw a punch at anyone who tempted to joke about it.
"I am surprised you're still kicking." He smirked catching sight of her knuckles and continued. "How do you like the new paint job?"
Bobbi brushed passed him so he could shut the door and get on with business.
Polished guns were laid out on a table in front of them. She stood there, pondering over the choices. She frequently used a magnum but her go to weapon was a rifle since she was often appointed point man. When she could, she relied heavily on accuracy over fire rate.
She recalled getting knocked off her feet once by a shotgun with insane recoil. She laughed about it at the time, kind of lolling around on the floor but it pissed off her partner who claimed she wasn't taking it seriously and his life was on the line.
Dick wandered around the side of the table casually straightening weapons back into position. For someone so concerned about cleanliness, he sure lived in one shitty looking residence. "Actually, I'm more surprised you can see who you're aiming at, can you even hold your gun straight?"
"Occasionally an antique vase meets the crosshairs." She tried to sound flippant but it was ruined by a loud and sudden hiccup that seeped out of her mouth.
"You should use a laser attachment."
"You want me dead, is that it?"
Dick raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his features. "Ahh, that's reason enough. Here, let me get you one." He motioned to a box of attachments.
"Jackass."
Bobbi picked up a pair of handguns and five extra cartridges. She shoved the ammunition into one of her pockets carelessly which caused one of the cartridges to fall back out onto the desk, scattering the bullets that were residing on it.
"Please put this woman out of her misery." Dick whispered under his breath but wasn't trying very hard to be subtle. After sweeping the pellets into a little neat pile, he straightened up and looked her in the eye. "What's your plan of action?"
He looked so serious it almost sent chills down her neck. They had a hateful relationship but were stuck as business partners until one of them kicked the dust. It was unnatural to see anything other than contempt while he was speaking to her.
"Ventilation duct." She finally replied.
The facade fell and wrinkles grew prominent as Dick furrowed his brow.
"Are you pissed or just a fucking idiot?"
As proof, she reached into her vest and pulled out a rolled map with the air duct schematics. There hadn't been any time for her to look it over and study it yet.
"And you don't fucking think they'll hear you thumping around up there? Why don't you just put a shot to your head to save you the trouble?" He shook his head in disbelief, angrily cursing under his breath once more. He turned back to face her and threw his arms up in the air. "Here's a better idea: book a room. Use a disguise."
"Sure. Then I'll just walk right in."
"You arrogant bitch. Won't be news to me when they drag your body out of there, riddled with bullets."
Bobbi rolled her eyes and slid the paper back into her vest, patting it grandiosity.
Dick regarded her critically. Despite his wickedness, he decided at that moment to let on a little information out of courtesy. "A little bird told me the tremor hicks will be involved."
"They're flashy." Bobbi said as she reached over and took a silencer. She then wandered over to the fireplace and reached for the fancy looking paper cutter that was laid on the mantle. She slipped it into the folds of her boot, not caring whether Dick noticed or not.
He had.
"Jesus, get out of here already!"
Turning her back on him, she headed for the door leering at it suspiciously in case the inside was painted as well. A malevolent laugh sounded from behind her.
"Malone. Hang on there, you got something in your hair."
She forcefully shut the door, hitting the heel of her boot in her haste to get out of there. She yowled in pain and slammed the door a second time as Dick laughed cruelly from inside.
During the taxi ride, she passed a restaurant-bar not far from the alcove. Checking her watch, she decided she could spare a few minutes and limped in the direction she remembered seeing it.
The sign read "Licky's bar" in neon letters although it was barely seen in the sunlight.
Upon entering and shouting for a beer, one of the waiters skeptically replied, "Isn't it a bit early for a drink?"
The patrons were local and few in number. Bobbi tucked herself away in a corner, studying the diagram and trying to figure a plan of action. On her second pint she decided it was time to leave for the hotel.
Throwing a few bills to the table, she crumpled and dumped the map into a garbage can and followed behind a man who was exiting as well. He didn't notice her presence and let the door swing back as he left, smacking her as it closed.
"Fuck me!" She hollered, gripping her nose and tilting her head up to the sky. "Stop hurting me!"