Big thanks to Hazelbaum for all her help with this chapter :)
A lone robin woke me to the early dawn. The sun barely touched the rooftops, but I could not return to rest; soon, several other birds chorused the robin's song. I rose, and cringed, as the skin of my wrist stretched. I looked down, slipping off my wristband, the clean one, to peer at how it looked. Dry blood flaked off against the cloth. I looked away, my mind calculating little things. How long it would take to shower; if my other wristband was dried from its hand-washing late in the evening.
The bird sang louder, and I stretched, ignoring the painful electricity as I ripped the cut's seam. My walk to retrieve the now-dry wristband was uneventful, as was my trip to the bathroom. I stripped myself of my only clothing, twisting my wrist around to examine the wound. It always fascinated me, how the body healed itself. The line laced strangely over-top the others.
The shower drowned out the overzealous birds, leaving me to my thoughts. I wet my hair, feeling the smooth scar where the glass had sliced all that time ago. I could not be angry with Mother; it was my own fault. I should have remembered the date, and walked home.
I knew he'd taken the photograph through the front window. The angle, the location, all burned into my mind more-so than what the picture actually held. My mind pored over all the places to look, all the things I could do or find once I went out there. It was still early, early enough to be unseen. I dried myself, fresh clothing holding in the shower's warmth, my hat keeping my hair from the chill. I'd always hold it dear to me. A...'parting' gift, as it were...
Dew shone off grass blades, sunlight-white sparkles coating the small, tidy garden in front of the living room's window to the cul-de-sac. Father tended to it, but no more. 'Pointless, but it exists, and would be easier to sustain than get rid of. The scar would not be worth the effort.' Father truly has a way with words. Still, I cared for the garden, for the small rose bush it held. Her bloom was long gone, late winter as it was, but her thorns kept to. A hindrance, truly, for any who stepped within their range.
I almost smiled when I saw the coin in the dirt.
To say I was surprised, would be a lie. I was not in the slightest. Though Jamison was intelligent, I imagine such a thing wasn't truly his style. And there-in lay my answer; he hired Eddy to do his 'dirty work.' Only Eddy would carry coins on himself, enough to lose one without a second thought, when trying to gather damning intel on someone. Always displaying his wealth to the world, compensating with coins over dollars, always heard before he was seen...short as he was.
He was an unusual sort of 'scummy.' He ran a legitimate business, complete with its own slogan, You got the need? We'll do the deed! It was tacky, and fitting, as he would do almost anything one needed. There was little shame for him, and though he honored his customers' privacies, it was not difficult to...convince him that you had something more...worthwhile, to offer.
With that, I returned indoors, and readied myself for a rather productive day at school.
Finding Eddy wasn't difficult, despite his rather diminutive stature. He was quite loud, and I am not merely referring to his voice. One could hear the raucous of change in his pockets easily over the din of students in the hallways, and I found myself slipping past chatting pairs to find myself before him. I observed him for a moment, just out of view to his side, the collar of his suede jacket hiding the features of his face, God forbid anyone wanted to see them. Torn jeans (purchased as such) and expensive sneakers, he reeked of overcompensation. I rolled my eyes, stepping forward.
His sly fox grin shone bright, teeth glaring, as his half-lidded eyes tossed over to my direction. Immediately the smile became a glaring frown, teeth clenched.
"What do you want, shithead?" Would that it were any other day, I might have taunted his language; but I was not in the mood for petty games with meagre, useless results.
"A word. Is that not your...business...?" I cocked my head to the side, voice arrogant and provoking, "Or perhaps you are not the one to turn to for such matters? Very well, The Experts should be-"
"Woah waitwaitwait, hold on there, buddy-old-pal-o-mine," I found an arm slipping around my...waist, seeing as he wasn't tall enough to reach my shoulders, and I was guided to the wall. A hand rested on the wall as he grinned, a dark sparkle in his eye, "you're not going anywhere, tough stuff. But you better be able to pay the price. Cough it up, you know the consultation fee."
I carefully lifted the quarter from this morning up before my eyes, twisting it between my index and middle finger, "Oh, this old thing? No, perhaps you don't want this little thing. Why, it appears you abandoned her, this poor, defenseless bit of currency...in my front yard."
Our eyes met, and I grinned malevolently. He looked off to the side angrily, growling, before looking back at me, "Yeah? Whatsitoya, chump?"
I smiled banely at his frustration, "You'd think when your customer paid you so much, you'd do a much less...sloppy of a job, hmm?"
He huffed through his nose, "Give me a break, it's not like you can do anything about it anyway."
"Ah, but Sarah-"
"Keep the damn quarter. What do you want?" His tone was aggressive, but I could feel the fear.
You see, Sarah did not much care for the trading of secrets, blackmail...all of those less savory things. She preferred a more legal business, where-as Eddy would do, well...everything has a price. Sarah was not often aware of these transactions, however, and when she found out, there was all hell to pay. She had him whipped, and she wasn't even dating him. Still, rumors spoke of...other...things. I dare not imagine them, however, lest it give me nightmares.
"Ahh, well you see, Eddy...may I call you Eddy?" I smiled at him, no sincerity in it, and received to response. I chuckled, "You see, your employer has, how you say...forced my hand. You're not one to help someone that you cannot hold something against, not when the risks are so high, and thus, I am quite certain you've the information I seek-"
"You can't pay me enough to make me spill, cheapskate. I know 'daddy' pays all your bills and you don't get squat."
I blinked at that, a bit miffed that he knew that much about me, but I refused to let it show, "Ahh, but you see, I have something much more valuable than mere...cash money," I looked up and away, my finger lifting to my chin thoughtfully, "well, at least for now. In the future, perhaps, it could net you a bit more of a monetary gain, but that is up to what you do with-"
"Get to the point, Sockhead, I ain't got all day. Time is money and you're wasting my time."
My eyes bore into his, "I can find the evidence you need to take out The Experts."
His eyebrows shot up, showing that he was clearly not expecting that answer, "But how-"
"Do not ask my sources, but do know that in exchange for the information I crave, I can arrange something to garner you...evidence...on a certain trading activity that is cutting into the precious pocket money of your fellow classmates."
"...How do I know you're telling the truth?"
I giggled maliciously, "You don't. That's what makes the game so fun," he frowned, seeming like he was about to walk away, and so I continued, "but if you must know, Austin tends to be a tad bit talkative to his 'girls,' of which, one happens to be of relation to a friend of mine. And my-oh-my, since they have more than one phone in the house, how dreadful it would be for someone else to accidentally listen in on these things? Oh, the shame. I truly feel the guilt for my friend, how terrible she would feel for spying on her sister..."
The cogs in Eddy's head had been turning while I spoke, and the agreement was made with shifty eyes. The Experts had been selling test answers for months, a lucrative business that Eddy wanted no part of, but could never find any evidence to pin it on them. Occasionally, he got blamed for their misdoings. I was surprised he wasn't salivating at the idea of bringing down his biggest competition.
"...Whaddya wanna know?"
"Whatever is so juicy about our little, insecure friend. I simply know there is something...oh, pretty please, Eddy? Do tell me?"
Classes were soon to begin, the hall nearing silent, with all but a few stragglers in their respective classrooms.
"Tst. How about I drop off one of his 'regulars' in your locker? I still don't trust you, but it's probably your style, anyway, faggot." The name was clipped on at the end like a necessary derogatory term. I didn't grace him with a reaction.
"That would be lovely, Eddy."
"Yeah yeah, now fuck off, you freak."
As he sauntered off, I mumbled deeply, "Gladly, crétin." I spat the word, the language giving the cognate a lovely depth to it.
I would speak to Marie soon enough; I was certain she'd accept. For now, however, I would go to class, and be patient. And hopefully, by tonight, I would have Jamison under my thumb.
Where the little sot belongs.