Rock sat silently on his stool at the bar of the Yellow Flag, staring into his glass of rum. It had been a month since Garcia, the Bloodhound, the American soldiers, and Fabiola had all left the city to resume their lives, and the little maids' last words still rang in his ears.
"Senor Rock," she began.
"Mm?" he asked as he turned to her.
"Bang!"
And in the next instant Rock was thrown backward as he chest erupted with pain.
"...Oh yeah," Fabiola snapped. "We were so lucky. So were you. How does it feel to bet your life? You made the young master risk his life for your own amusement. All you wanted was a thrilling gamble. If that was all, I could forgive you. …No. Even if I couldn't, I wouldn't be this angry. You used the young masters as a pawn in a game of Cambodian roulette and called it a kindhearted act of help. That was my mistake. I couldn't tell whether you were a crook or not till the very end. But now I know. You are the biggest piece of shit…"
She bent down and picked up the spent shell casing.
"...in this town."
She stood up and held it out.
"...A blank," she spat, her eyes full of malice. "A phony magic trick. Fake brass."
Rock sat up on the deck of the Lagoon. Of course the blank hadn't fired an actual round, but it had discharged a lot of energy.
"But," he protested, wiping blood away from his mouth. "You still won. Isn't that all there is to it?"
"True," Fabiola retorted. "Nobody came out unharmed but we did what we set out to do. But…"
"For your to say that," Garcia chimed in. "Means you're part of this city."
That hit Rock almost as hard as the blank.
"N-no," he stammered. "I really… I really wanted to."
Now Revy spoke up then, holstering her guns.
"Whatever," she huffed. "These guys gotta have a reason before they can kill someone. Fuck 'em, Rock. We'll never…"
"Never see each other again. Of course," Fabiola finished her sentence for her and cast a disparaging gaze at Rock. "One day, even god will be fed up with your silly games. Until then, keep dancing your watz with the dead in this foul city."
The scene faded and Rock continued to sit on his little stool, looking blankly into his liquor.
"You actually going to drink that or just stare at it all night?"
Rock blinked and looked around. Bao, the aging ex-ARVN soldier who had somehow just recently rebuilt this bar for the seventh time, was glowering at him over the dirty glass he was cleaning with an equally dirty rag.
"See, I'm given to understand the booze goes in through your mouth. Get it?"
Rock snorted.
"Since when do you care how I drink?" he asked, but lifted the glass anyway.
"Since if you don't drink that one you won't order another. And frankly it looks like you need it," Bao responded. "You still thinkin' about that whole maid thing?"
Rock's slump down into his stool told Bao all he needed to know.
"Look," he said, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "She's gone, you got paid, and my bar's back in business. What else do you want? If you need some distraction," he said, pointing his glass at Rock. "We got some new girls upstairs. Blond one is half-price for the night. She's over thirty."
Rock snorted again.
"Thanks Bao. I'll pass. Tell you what though," he put his glass to his lips and drained it. "Hit me again. Bacardi, hold the rocks."
"Aww! Are you buyin' a drink for me now? That's sweet, Rocky baby. Tell you what, buy yourself one and we'll see if you can keep up with me."
Revy had sidled up behind him before Rock had even noticed. Between his conversation with Bao and the usual noise of the bar, he hadn't even heard her boot-steps. She put her elbow on his shoulder and pressed it into his cheek before sliding into the seat next to him.
"Ow! Cut it out, Revy. And since when do I buy your drinks?"
"Maybe since I saved your nuts from that maid, shit-head. Remember that?"
Rock sighed but turned to Bao in defeat.
"And another please, Bao," he added.
Bao nodded and turned to the shelf behind him for the necessary bottle.
"So, why the long fuckin' face, huh Rocky? Take from the last job not enough?" Revy joked. She had been in a good mood ever since the wounds in her arms had healed and she'd been able to return to work.
"It's not that," Rock sighed. "I was just thinking about those kids again. Fabiola and Garcia. I hope they're okay."
"Course they fuckin' are," Revy huffed. She had never been a fan of the Lovelace's or their prim and proper ways. "They got their precious fucking four eyed maid back and they got outta dodge. I'll bet they're all nice and cozy in their big fucking mansion, doing whatever-the fuck it is rich people do when they get everything they fuckin' want. Fuck em'," she finished just as Bao brought them their drinks.
They remained silent as Bao unscrewed the bottle and poured them both a generous shot, and Revy grinned as she held hers up and took her first swig.
"Yeah," Rock said. "It's just, they didn't seem very happy with what we did for them."
"Rock," Revy snarled as her half-full glass hit the bar with enough force Rock could feel it. "That is because they are selfish little cunts who don't have a fucking clue what we did for them. I took a bullet in both arms and had to deal with fuckin' Chinglish for a night. But I don't give a fuck. We did our jobs, got paid, and got smashed. What else is there?"
"I don't know." Rock replied. "I'd just like to be appreciated, I guess. That's all."
Revy snorted and rolled her eyes.
"Rock, people are shit. Don't expect 'em for nothin'. Just do your job and get paid. Fuck everything else."
She went to take the rest of her drink.
"Easy for you to say," Rock retorted. "People respect what you do! You show up with your guns and shoot anyone you want and everyone actually respects you!"
The next thing Rock felt was considerable pain. Revy's elbow connected with his cheekbone with enough force to send him tumbling to the ground. In a flash she was on top of him with her gun in his face. The bar went deathly quiet.
"Not here, Revy!" Bao called. "My bar. If you gotta, do it outside."
"Shut it, Bao," Revy snarled. She was sitting on Rock's chest. With her left hand she held his tie, with her right she pointed her pistol directly between his eyes. He could still see her face behind her gun. And he recognized that look.
"Rock," she hissed in a voice barely above a whisper. "Look at me."
So Rock did. And he knew enough to say nothing.
"You don't know shit about me, never have. But if you ever try to say you know what it's like to be me again, I will fucking murder you."
Rock didn't say anything. After a few seconds Revy holstered her gun, stood up, and turned back to the bar. Without a word she downed the rest of Rock's rum in one gulp, wiped her mouth and turned for the door.
"Nighty night, Bao," she said. "Give the tab to office boy here. He's good for it."
And she left without another word.
The sounds of the bar slowly returned to normal. Rock picked himself up off the floor and flopped against the bar.
"Ya all right, there?" Bao asked. "Hate to say it, but looks like you're on the hook."
Rock took a few deep, steadying breaths, and nodded.
About an hour later Rock strode out of the Yellow flag, nursing the bruise on his cheek. He'd settled up with Bao for his and Revy's drinks and drank a few glasses of water before heading out.
He stopped in front of the bar and looked out.
It was a beautiful night.
Roanapur had its own brand of hard beauty, if you cared enough to look. Under the sounds of cars and smell of diesel exhaust there was an oceanfront city in Thailand with plenty to speak for. Tonight, a full moon lit the water in the bay with an almost eerie shimmer. The giant rock that contained the smiling buddha rose like a great monolith out of the harbor. Out a bit further Rock spied a few dolphins jumping up and down. As if they didn't have a care in the world.
He strode towards the harbor. A peaceful walk along the beach sounded perfect.
He walked along the pier, eyes trained out to sea. As he got closer, the waves shimmered under the pale moonlight as they crashed against the shore. Rock stopped to watch them. Back, and forth. Back, and forth. Always in motion. Under the demands of winds and tides they flowed and rolled and shimmered and Rock felt himself smile at the scene. He continued with his walk.
Presently he reached one of the piers that jutted out into the bay. He paused there, unsure if he wanted to trek onto it or not, but then something else caught his eye.
Below the pier a woman was sitting up facing out to sea. Rock paused for a moment, staring at her. She wasn't dressed for a beach-visit. She was wearing a black coat and hat that covered much of her head. As he looked, Rock realized that one of her sleeves was forced up past her elbow and she was swaying slightly in the breeze.
Suddenly, the woman flung herself onto her back and began shaking violently. Her hat fell off and Rock saw that eyes were wide. Her mouth was open and some sort of white liquid seemed to be pouring out. Rock had lived in Roanapur long enough to recognize the symptoms of a drug overdose.
Panicked, he looked around for help, but saw no one. Looking back at the girl he took a deep breath and vaulted himself over the side of the pier and onto the beach below. Staggering slightly after a ten-foot fall, he lumbered over to the girl.
She was convulsing violently. What scared Rock most was that she seemed to be vomiting, but because of the angle of her head it looked like her puke was going back up her nose and pooling in her gaping mouth.
With only a vague idea of what to do, Rock seized her body with both hands and turned her over onto her side. White liquid flowed out of her mouth onto the sand and she coughed and spluttered. After a few minutes though, she started breathing again. Rock cradled her head as she kept convulsing. She puked several more times onto the sand but Rock dug it away from her mouth. For what felt like hours the girl kept shaking and puking. Then, finally, her body relaxed and she lay still.
Rock took a moment and examined her.
She was young. Rock guessed her to be in her early twenties. Asian. Pale skin, dark hair. Apart from the vomit just under her chin, she could be sleeping right now. Rock made sure she was breathing ok, then he felt for her pulse. After he found it he checked it against his own. Her's was fast compared to his, but not by much. Rock breathed a sigh of relief. He checked her pockets and was surprised when he found a business card. It was for the GoofFest Strip Club, Rowan's place.
Rock looked back at the girl. She must be one of Rowan's. She'd gone out for a night of fun, and took too much.
Rock pulled out his cell phone and called the number on the card. It rang a few times before someone picked up.
"Hello!" Rock heard the unmistakable voice of Rowan "Jackpot" Pigeon, one of Roanapur's more colorful residents.
"Hi, Rowan. It's Rock. You know, from the Lagoon Company."
"Rock!" Rowan exploded. "How are you brother? You guys got my order yet?"
Rowan had ordered them to receive a shipment of booze and some other items a few days before.
"Sadly, that hasn't come in yet, but I might have something else for you. I just found a girl on the beach. I think she was OD'ing. I helped her out and I think she might be one of yours. She had your card in her pocket."
Rowan swore. Rock hoped the girl wouldn't be in trouble when she came to.
"She awake? What's her name?" Rowan demanded.
Rock looked over at the girl again. She was breathing but still unconscious.
"She's still out but I can tell you what she looks like. She's asian. Early twenties. Dark hair. Short dark hair," he added. "Falls around her neck."
On the other end, Rowan seemed to perk up.
"She got a tattoo on her neck? Of a flower?"
"Uhh…" Rock answered. He pulled down her collar to reveal the right side of her neck. Sure enough a small flower was tattooed just under her right ear.
"Yeah! It looks like a sunflower!"
Rowan swore again, though this time with a note of relief in his voice.
"That bitch! That's bibbity! Don't know what her real name is. She got the night off and she fuckin' does this. Fuckin' bitch! Rock? You still there?"
"Yes, I'm still here."
"You stay with her! I'm coming with a couple girls right now. Where you at?"
Rock gave him a basic description of their location. The girl continued to sleep.
"Aight! We on our way! Thank you, brother! I gotchu for this!"
He hung up.
About ten minutes later Rock heard a car pull up above him.
"Rock!" he heard Rowan call! "Where you at?"
"We're here!" Rock called back. "We're down here."
Rowan and what looked like three of his girls made their way down some nearby stairs and towards the pier. When they approached, Rowan greeted Rock then bent over the girl.
"Yep. That's her," he sighed. "Girl has a fuckin' problem with that shit. Well, come on girls. Let's get her up."
Two of the girls Rowan had brought carefully stood Bibbity up. With one of her arms draped around each of them they half-carried, half-walked her back to the stairs and up to the waiting car. Rowan turned to Rock.
"I'll take a sick bitch over a dead bitch," he said. "Dead girls can't do shit. Here," he held out a hundred dollar bill and Rock took it. "First dance is on the house."
Rock nodded. Rowan turned and followed his girls back to the car.
"Thank you."
Rock turned to see the last of Rowan's girls smiling at him.
"You saved her life. Don't think many people in this town would've. Thanks."
She nodded at him then turned to follow Rowan back to the car.
Rock stood there for a moment, the hundred in his hand flapping in the breeze.
And then the full gravity of what had just happened smashed him over the head.
He had saved her life.
That girl being carried up those stairs right now was alive because of him. Her heart was still beating, her lungs were still breathing, her hair and fingernails were still growing, and her brain was still working because he had saved her life. He had turned her over and allowed her to keep breathing. He didn't know where her story would go after this, but it was only because of him that it was not over.
He looked down at the spot where it had happened. He could see her rough outline, and the dark spot of her vomit. It wasn't pretty, but her story had not ended there.
It could continue because of him.
The hundred dollar bill fell out of his limp hand and Rock didn't bend to pick it up.
Back at the Lagoon office Revy lay sprawled on the couch with the fresh beer in her hand. Dutch was sitting opposite her in his usual chair. Benny was playing something on his computer.
"I'm tellin' ya! The guy's fuckin' talking funny," she growled. "I dunno what's crawled up his ass, but if he keeps it up I'm gonna have to lay him out again."
"You're being too simpleminded," Benny called over from his computer.
Revy rounded on him.
"You wanna die, Benny?!" Revy bellowed back.
"Not really," Benny responded, turning back to his computer.
"So," Dutch said over his beer. "Rock's complaining about not feeling respected. He's still upset about that whole Maid situation. And your response is to punch him in the face, and threaten to blow his brains out. Do I have that right?"
Revy blew out the question like a damp cigarette.
"Fuck. If he wants respect and he's gotta take the punch. Sides, maybe it knocked some fuckin' sense into him. Ever think of that?" She snapped.
Suddenly, the door opened and they looked up. Rock was standing there. And his expression gave Revy the heebie-jeebies.
"Dutch," he asked. "Can I have a minute?"
Revy prickled. Was he trying not to look at her?
Dutch stood up and followed Rock outside. He shut the door behind them.
A few minutes later Dutch returned alone. He was holding a folded piece of paper.
"What's up?" Revy asked.
Dutch looked at her from behind his glasses.
"Rock just quit."