Ray and Richie were on the fifth floor of an apartment building on the edge of Portland. Richie had told him not to expect the Taj Mahal, but the place wasn't too bad. There were four rooms. Two of the rooms were bedrooms, one with a full bathroom, one with a half bath, a kitchen, and a living room. When Ray walked in, his eyes took in the atmosphere of the apartment. Richie was right, it was an OK place. The carpet was light brown, a little unwelcoming but clean enough. There was some dull wood panelling that Richie had said he hated but didn't bother having it changed. Scattered around in the room, in no places in particular, were a few recliners, a grey couch with a coffee table in front of it, and a 27 inch television. When they had walked in, the doorway into the small kitchen was directly in front of them, the entrances to the bedrooms to the right, and a long, blank wall of that ugly panelling to the left. There was a wooden dresser against the wall with a mirror above it and a few scattered drawers on the side. Ray was told to have a seat, so he sat on the grey couch.
"The place ain't nothin swanky, but we don't spend a lot of time here anyway. Eat our meals, sleep, get up and stay out all day. Don't know if you noticed, but we aren't much on decoration." Richie said, sitting himself down in a grey, leather recliner situated in front of the TV.
Although Richie was right about it not mattering too much how the place looked, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at having to stay in such a dull, depressing place. After seeing the lack of decor he wondered more and more what Richie's girlfriend must be like. Not like any woman he'd known, most of them would have this place looking a lot different. Richie had said his girl wasn't like most women, but that he'd leave it up to Ray to judge.
"How's it feel Ray? That old excitement me'n you used to get when we got a lead on something that could be big. 'Cept now you gotta consider, we don't have any inside advantages. No cops to help us out, you're an official huckster. You can't hide behind the badge no more. But look at the bright side, you can shoot someone and not feel too bad about it." Richie, screwing around just like old times. Sometimes it was funny and could help lighten spirits, sometimes it made him seem like a punk you'd end up wanting to hit.
"We gonna talk about this damn thing or just talk about talking about it? I need to know who this guy is, what he's like and all that jazz if I'm gonna do the talking."
"Don't rush it too much, Cat needs to know about it. I don't wanna have to explain everything twice, you've been around me enough to know I don't like to repeat myself more than I have to. Just kick it here until she gets back, meanwhile we can have a drink. Wild Turkey or Beam? Or both, choose your poison." Richie stood up and header for the kitchen.
"Whatever costs more." Ray said, smiling and revealing a row of white teeth below his aviators he still hadn't taken off.
Richie nodded in understanding and disappeared through the doorway into the kitchen. Ray sat uncomfortably for a few seconds, checking his watch and noting the time. It was 5:30 p.m., he was surprised at how fast it got late. When he thought about it, he remembered that in Liberty time almost always seemed to move three times faster than other cities, it had it's ups and it's downs. Ray looked around Richie's dwelling, it was amusing how out of character it seemed for a guy like Richie who normally acted a little like a hotshot. He found himself curious as to what was in that dresser, if anything. He stood up for a look around.
Catalina had just stepped out of the shower, and as she dried her hair she looked at her form in the mirror to make sure no more remnants of blood were left over. During the incident at Roscoe's, she'd gotten more blood on her face than she realized. Dried blood was annoying, and most places of business didn't like to serve people with it on their face.
Her hair glistened as she rubbed water out of it with a white, rough towel. After drying the rest of herself off, she slipped on her bathrobe and picked up her .38 from the sink to put it somewhere where it would be handy. As she looked down at the white porcelain that made up the sink and counter. Goddamnit, there was a crack in it. She looked back up at the mirror, the reflections blurry from layers of steam clinging to the glass. She wiped a section of it clear and looked at herself in her black silk robe that she'd accidentally packed in her suitcase when she stayed at a fairly upscale hotel one time, but took a liking to it.
As Catalina opened her bathroom door and walked into the master bedroom, if one could call it that, a wave of cool air swept over her and felt good. She looked around the room for a minute, examined the big king sized bed that she and Richie slept in most of the time. The massive, thick bedspread was a tan color with some cheesy flowers sewn on to it. Just a cheap thing she'd picked up in a thrift store, it worked well enough. But she looked away, at the door leading to the living room as she heard the sound of someone shuffling around on the other side of the wooden door.
Her immediate thought was Richie, but he wouldn't be going through the dresser out there as he kept nothing important in it. She crept up to the door and cracked it open just open to catch a short glimpse of a fat guy in a brown suit rummaging through one of the drawers. She grabbed her gun and held it ready.
At first Ray just wanted to take a couple of glances around the room, but curiosity killed the cat when he found himself wondering what was in those drawers. He opened the first one and found a bunch of random receipts, an old newspaper, and a dried out orange. He laughed out loud as he saw it's rotted brown peel laying there, staring up at him. The second drawer was topped off with a lot of paper clips and an old black stapler when all of a sudden, his hand brushed against something hard, and cold. He saw the glint of a dull, slightly yellowish shade of metal. Shit, was that a gu-
"Who the fuck are you?" Ray swung around to see a good looking hispanic woman with shining wet hair, in a black silk robe with a silver revolver pointed right at him.
He took a minute for words to come to him as he admired her body enclosed in that robe. Then he turned his attention to the .38 revolver aimed at his face. Now she was walking up to him.
"You a fucking cop? Huh? Answer me fat man, come on!" She extended her free hand and grabbed the front of the fat, cop looking guy in her living room's shirt. The guy winced as the cold steel barrel was shoved against his forehead. Catalina pulled back the hammer.
"Richie!" Ray yelled in his booming voice.
Richie was standing in the doorway holding two glasses of a dark colored whiskey, taking in the scene. He set the glasses down on the floor and walked in between Catalina and Ray's standoff, facing Catalina. He took the barrel of her gun and snatched it away from her, smiling now, thinking it was funny. Catalina grabbed for her gun but Richie grabbed both of her shoulders and held her still.
"Shut up Cat, this is Ray. Me'n him go way back. He just got outta the lockup and he needs work, and I've got a job blowin' in the wind. OK? Calm down!" Catalina was struggling against Richie's grip but he jerked her to the side and stabilized her writhing form.
"Come on sweetheart, can't we be friends? Huh? You always walk outta the shower with a gun in your hands? Scared me y'know."
Catalina looked unconvinced at Richie's story, "How is this fuck supposed to help us with a job? They're all walk in, wave the gun around, and walk out. You shoulda let me shoot him Richie!"
"Cat! Shut the fuck UP. He's not a cop, he's a friend of mine. I've known the mother fucker longer than I've known you! And the job I got planned ain't an armed robbery, no Cat, this's the big time. We're talkin' a lotta money, enough so we don't have to do any of this small time shit ever again. Sound good? Huh?" Richie stared her in the eyes, she stopped struggling and he let her go.
Ray chuckled at the scene, amused now that a gun wasn't being pressed against his head. "Nice to meet you eh, Catalina right?"
"Yeah, enough fat man. We can be friends when you help me get that money. First, you two need to explain this thing to me."
"Yeah, Richie. Tell us about it, you haven't even told me about it other than it would be clean and I'd need to be the guy that talks business while you do the legwork. And plus, I need a gun." Ray said.
Sorry for the weak chapter, I was quite stuck on this one... I don't plan on every chapter being this... bad.
And by the way, lots of thanks to Rodney (for helping me with the plot) and Kim (for giving me suggestions and reading over stuff) and of course Heather for... inspiration... or something.
