SouthernChickie: I wasn't sure at first what to do with Tessa, so that's why she
wasn't mentioned. I decided that I like the 'let her live' idea, though, so she's in
Paris with one of her art shows.
* * *
The next day, I was relegated once again to the position of lowly helper – Mac
and I switched, so that he could play big shot while I worked in the back. I was
collapsing boxes for the recycle bin, humming along with the music I was
listening to. Mac didn't want to hear my music in the shop, so I put on
headphones. This had the effect of my not being able to tell how loud I was
humming, so every once in a while Mac would have to yell at me to shut up. I
would quiet down for a little while, but I wasn't too concerned about keeping my
humming down, because after all, it was annoying him, wasn't it?
I stepped back to see how much I had left to do, and sighed in defeat. I was
barely halfway done – I had plenty more boxes to go still. 'Oh well,' I thought.
'Might as well get it done.' Grabbing another box, I set to work, ripping it to
pieces until it was flat. I made a face when a hidden staple attacked my finger,
and took a screwdriver to it. I thought I'd gotten all the staples out – guess not.
Wrenching it out of the cardboard, I danced over to the trashcan to throw it out.
Ok, I don't really dance. I sort of walk along to my music, you know? Of course,
that would be the moment that Mac appeared in the doorway.
"Richie?" I stopped walking and turned to look at him, noticing he looked quite
amused. It was my walking, undoubtedly.
"Shut up, right?" I asked without bothering to take off my headphones. I would
have bet anything I knew what he wanted. But Mac shook his head and mouthed
something at me. I picked up one side of the headphones. "Repeat."
"Your friend is here," he told me. "She looks a little…shaken, I guess you'd
say." Ok, I lost the bet.
"My friend?" I asked, puzzled. "And who would this be?"
"The girl from the alley," he replied. "JC."
"You wouldn't be kidding me, would you? Why would she be here again?" Just
the same, I took off my headphones and ditched the walkman, coming out into
the main part of the shop. Sure enough, there was JC. She certainly did look
shaken, and like she'd been running hard. She looked relieved to see me.
"Richie!" she said. "There you are."
"What is it?" I asked, concerned. I went over to her. "What's wrong?"
"It's him – again," she panted. Yeah, she'd definitely been running. "The guy –
from the other – day. Black Jack – you know the one. He said"-
"Hey, calm down," I said. "You'll be ok. Stop, take a breather. I'll get you
some water." I went to kitchen, and JC followed me. "You ok?" I asked, handing
her the water, and she nodded. I wondered why she had come here, since she
seemed perfectly able to beat him up on her own. What did she need with me?
My question was answered shortly. JC drank some of the water, then turned to
look at me.
"He said he'll come for you," she said bluntly. "I wanted to warn you."
"He talked to you?" I asked. "When did you see him?" I wasn't too surprised to
learn that he was after me – he most likely wanted my head. I was a little more
surprised to hear that JC had been in contact with him again so soon.
"Just now," she answered. "He was chasing me." I wondered why she had run
instead of kicking his ass, but she answered that, too. "He was carrying a blade.
I'm no good against weapons – I had to run. I don't know if he saw me come
here." Suddenly her eyes widened. "Oh no, what if I led him here? Richie, I'm
sorry! I didn't think…" Just then Mac appeared in the doorway.
"Is this a private conversation, or can I ask what happened? Is anything
wrong?"
"I don't know Mac," I said. "I think you just asked. I guess you don't need
permission, but go ahead."
"Thanks." He looked at JC, who had finished the water and put the glass back
on the counter. "Do I have the feeling this is about Black Jack?" She frowned.
"How do you know"-
"About Black Jack? I think I've known him longer than you have." She looked
surprised.
"You know him?" Mac nodded.
"We're not exactly friends." JC looked at him carefully for a moment.
"Yeah, it's about him," she said finally. "He, uh, doesn't like me much, but now
he's got it in for Richie, too. He said that," she added, as if she needed proof.
"That was him out there – somewhere. I was running from him. He's got a blade
of some sort and I can't fight weapons. I just came here to warn Richie." Mac
nodded slowly.
"I don't like this," he said quietly, just as we both felt that telltale singing in our
heads. We looked at each other, and Mac left the kitchen to go check it out. JC,
of course, noticed nothing, until we heard another voice addressing Mac. It was a
familiar voice, and JC suddenly looked scared.
"Don't worry," I told her, "Mac can deal with him." I edged out of the kitchen
and into the shop. I felt a tug on my sleeve and looked back.
"Don't go out there!" she said. "He can't know you're here – don't show him
where you are!" I shook my head.
"He already knows I'm here, trust me." She frowned, but followed me into the
shop. Black Jack was talking to Mac, or rather, I would say he was growling at
him while holding him at sword-point. JC looked worried, but Mac did not look
impressed.
"What do you want?" he demanded. "Why are you here?"
"I'm looking for someone," replied the scar-faced man. "And I do believe he's
right here." With that, he took his sword off Mac and turned to me. "Good guess,
hm?" His smile was cold and humorless.
"I don't think you guessed," I shot back. "But I do think you should go away."
"Richie," said Mac warningly.
"What? I didn't do anything." He rolled his eyes.
"Well, don't." Suddenly Black Jack rounded on him, but Mac saw him coming,
and sword met sword with a clang that resounded impressively through the shop.
JC flinched, and I put my hand on her arm.
"It's ok," I whispered. "Mac knows what he's doing, despite what it seems
like." She made a face over my jab at Mac, then went back to watching the two
immortals argue. Actually, this was past the arguing stage – they were now
fencing. Mac picked his way carefully between the displays, but scarface didn't
know the shop, and nearly tripped more than once. Then, as suddenly as he had
started, he stopped, holding out his sword to point at Mac, then me, then back
again.
"I'll be back," he snarled. "Count on it."
wasn't mentioned. I decided that I like the 'let her live' idea, though, so she's in
Paris with one of her art shows.
* * *
The next day, I was relegated once again to the position of lowly helper – Mac
and I switched, so that he could play big shot while I worked in the back. I was
collapsing boxes for the recycle bin, humming along with the music I was
listening to. Mac didn't want to hear my music in the shop, so I put on
headphones. This had the effect of my not being able to tell how loud I was
humming, so every once in a while Mac would have to yell at me to shut up. I
would quiet down for a little while, but I wasn't too concerned about keeping my
humming down, because after all, it was annoying him, wasn't it?
I stepped back to see how much I had left to do, and sighed in defeat. I was
barely halfway done – I had plenty more boxes to go still. 'Oh well,' I thought.
'Might as well get it done.' Grabbing another box, I set to work, ripping it to
pieces until it was flat. I made a face when a hidden staple attacked my finger,
and took a screwdriver to it. I thought I'd gotten all the staples out – guess not.
Wrenching it out of the cardboard, I danced over to the trashcan to throw it out.
Ok, I don't really dance. I sort of walk along to my music, you know? Of course,
that would be the moment that Mac appeared in the doorway.
"Richie?" I stopped walking and turned to look at him, noticing he looked quite
amused. It was my walking, undoubtedly.
"Shut up, right?" I asked without bothering to take off my headphones. I would
have bet anything I knew what he wanted. But Mac shook his head and mouthed
something at me. I picked up one side of the headphones. "Repeat."
"Your friend is here," he told me. "She looks a little…shaken, I guess you'd
say." Ok, I lost the bet.
"My friend?" I asked, puzzled. "And who would this be?"
"The girl from the alley," he replied. "JC."
"You wouldn't be kidding me, would you? Why would she be here again?" Just
the same, I took off my headphones and ditched the walkman, coming out into
the main part of the shop. Sure enough, there was JC. She certainly did look
shaken, and like she'd been running hard. She looked relieved to see me.
"Richie!" she said. "There you are."
"What is it?" I asked, concerned. I went over to her. "What's wrong?"
"It's him – again," she panted. Yeah, she'd definitely been running. "The guy –
from the other – day. Black Jack – you know the one. He said"-
"Hey, calm down," I said. "You'll be ok. Stop, take a breather. I'll get you
some water." I went to kitchen, and JC followed me. "You ok?" I asked, handing
her the water, and she nodded. I wondered why she had come here, since she
seemed perfectly able to beat him up on her own. What did she need with me?
My question was answered shortly. JC drank some of the water, then turned to
look at me.
"He said he'll come for you," she said bluntly. "I wanted to warn you."
"He talked to you?" I asked. "When did you see him?" I wasn't too surprised to
learn that he was after me – he most likely wanted my head. I was a little more
surprised to hear that JC had been in contact with him again so soon.
"Just now," she answered. "He was chasing me." I wondered why she had run
instead of kicking his ass, but she answered that, too. "He was carrying a blade.
I'm no good against weapons – I had to run. I don't know if he saw me come
here." Suddenly her eyes widened. "Oh no, what if I led him here? Richie, I'm
sorry! I didn't think…" Just then Mac appeared in the doorway.
"Is this a private conversation, or can I ask what happened? Is anything
wrong?"
"I don't know Mac," I said. "I think you just asked. I guess you don't need
permission, but go ahead."
"Thanks." He looked at JC, who had finished the water and put the glass back
on the counter. "Do I have the feeling this is about Black Jack?" She frowned.
"How do you know"-
"About Black Jack? I think I've known him longer than you have." She looked
surprised.
"You know him?" Mac nodded.
"We're not exactly friends." JC looked at him carefully for a moment.
"Yeah, it's about him," she said finally. "He, uh, doesn't like me much, but now
he's got it in for Richie, too. He said that," she added, as if she needed proof.
"That was him out there – somewhere. I was running from him. He's got a blade
of some sort and I can't fight weapons. I just came here to warn Richie." Mac
nodded slowly.
"I don't like this," he said quietly, just as we both felt that telltale singing in our
heads. We looked at each other, and Mac left the kitchen to go check it out. JC,
of course, noticed nothing, until we heard another voice addressing Mac. It was a
familiar voice, and JC suddenly looked scared.
"Don't worry," I told her, "Mac can deal with him." I edged out of the kitchen
and into the shop. I felt a tug on my sleeve and looked back.
"Don't go out there!" she said. "He can't know you're here – don't show him
where you are!" I shook my head.
"He already knows I'm here, trust me." She frowned, but followed me into the
shop. Black Jack was talking to Mac, or rather, I would say he was growling at
him while holding him at sword-point. JC looked worried, but Mac did not look
impressed.
"What do you want?" he demanded. "Why are you here?"
"I'm looking for someone," replied the scar-faced man. "And I do believe he's
right here." With that, he took his sword off Mac and turned to me. "Good guess,
hm?" His smile was cold and humorless.
"I don't think you guessed," I shot back. "But I do think you should go away."
"Richie," said Mac warningly.
"What? I didn't do anything." He rolled his eyes.
"Well, don't." Suddenly Black Jack rounded on him, but Mac saw him coming,
and sword met sword with a clang that resounded impressively through the shop.
JC flinched, and I put my hand on her arm.
"It's ok," I whispered. "Mac knows what he's doing, despite what it seems
like." She made a face over my jab at Mac, then went back to watching the two
immortals argue. Actually, this was past the arguing stage – they were now
fencing. Mac picked his way carefully between the displays, but scarface didn't
know the shop, and nearly tripped more than once. Then, as suddenly as he had
started, he stopped, holding out his sword to point at Mac, then me, then back
again.
"I'll be back," he snarled. "Count on it."