Chapter Four: Being Brave

Mickey's first job in Chicago finally came in, he was more than a little glad because all he had left in funds was about thirty bucks. He'd paid his room at the hotel two months up, had saved a few bills to live on, and was now almost tapped out completely. So, sitting inside the cafeteria again for the first time in weeks, Mickey rolled up pieces of napkin, staring out the window in wait. It was barely lunch time. The first thing Mickey noticed was the lack of fire headed waiter. He supposed the kid mostly worked nights. Or maybe the guy had gotten fired after the incident with keeping Mickey in there past closing. Not like Mickey cared or would know, given that he had been avoiding this place now that his coffee fun was ruined. He flicked a piece of napkin at the empty seat across from him, listened as it hit the floor, rolled under the table to join all of the other pieces of trash that Mickey had sat here an accumulated. Mickey leaned back fully in his seat, rested his head back against the teal leather, and sighed. He closed his eyes and willed his new employer to hurry the fuck along.

In the back corner of the cafe sat an elderly man, obviously homeless. Mickey had spotted the guy on his way to the usual booth by one of the only two windows. The homeless man stank of booze and Mickey smelt him even from his own booth, across the cafeteria. The man wore jean everything and an orange beanie pulled too high up on his head. Stooped over the cup of coffee given to him by the mean bitch of a waitress that hadn't brought Mickey his fucking eggs yet. And Mickey had been here for fifteen minutes. How fucking long could it take, given that there were only three other customers besides himself and the rambling homeless man. Rambling fucking drunkard hadn't shut up for a second. His babble was thankfully toned down and hard to understand. But annoying all the same. Mickey hated unnecessary noise. Fucking hated it. And right now, all Mickey could hear was a murmur of nonsense ringing about in his head, mixing with his quick to pick up pulse. He wished the guy would quite before something bad happened. Mickey couldn't understand a word the man was saying, but assumed it was about aliens, spies, or terrorists. Maybe the government. Something pointless.

Mickey scratched his neck absently, counting slowly in his head to contain his bubbling annoyance-turned-rage.

The door opened up, letting in a gust of cold air. Mickey forced himself not to shiver. Grinding his teeth until the cold passed. Whoever entered sat down in the booth behind him. Mickey sighed. Now he needed to move because no one should hear what he would discuss soon. He sat upright and grabbed his coat, moved to the corner booth near the restroom, farthest away from anyone. From here, he had a full view of the person who had fucking ruined sitting at Mickey's booth for today. The booth that was still missing its menu. Mickey sat there, picking his nails, frowning at the person. Who Mickey actually recognized. Barely. It took Mickey a minute but eventually he saw that the stranger was that same man from Mickey's first visit here. The one who had blessed out the obvious prostitute. Or maybe she hadn't really been a prostitute. But Mickey had seen enough of them roaming around to recognize one off hand. Today the man was alone, like before. Mickey found himself idly wondering if the woman would join the stranger again. Who was probably her pimp. Had to be, given how the guy spoke to her.

Another ten minutes passed and the door to the cafeteria opened up again. Mickey made eye contact with the woman who entered. She was very business. Dress suit and all. Pussed face, fake boobs, fake nails, expensive looking sunglasses over her eyes. Mickey wouldn't have looked twice, except she was carrying the iced coffee from Starbucks that Mickey had requested over the phone. So she was obviously who was supposed to meet him here. Funny, because he had expected someone different, though Mickey wasn't sure what. Not this. My pushed down the smirk trying to creep onto his face. Rubbed his mouth and chin, propping his elbows on the table, and watched the woman approach him.

The woman, who looked like she was nearing fifty, sat down carefully. She looked around and pulled a face. Mickey watched her looked over at the homeless man a few feet away and knit her brow. Either at the rambling or the fact that such rif-raf was in her presence, Mickey wasn't certain. Didn't care to know.

"Alice?" Mickey half asked, half greeted.

The woman pulled her sunglasses off and tucked them atop her jet black hair. Her eyes were too close together. Her nose a little too rounded. She looked like she had recently gotten botox around her painted lips. Alice nodded and looked Mickey over, scooting across his coffee. "Ming," she greeted back, rolling her eyes and giving a curt laugh. "Obviously not your real name," she commented, drumming her nails on the table top. When Mickey took to staring at her tapping hands, he figured he must had looked pissed, because she stopped. Clearing her throat, Alice pulled her hands from the table and placed them in her lap. Mickey looked up at her again and she gave an uncomfortable smile. "You're a little young," she said. "What are you, barely in college frat?"

"Not your business," Mickey hummed, taking the first drink of coffee. Though he found the college remark amusing considering Mickey hadn't even finished high school past the tenth grade.

"Well," Alice sighed, pursing her fat lips, "I was hoping for someone a little more mature. Someone with experience."

He shrugged. "Leave then. We'll forget this happened real quick," he said, biting down on his straw.

Alice opened her mouth to speak and was interrupted as the waitress walked over and asked if she would like anything to drink. The bitch wrinkled her nose at the waitress and simply shook her head. Honestly, the way Alice had reacted even got under Mickey's skin. Not that he didn't think this place was for the rats, too, but he'd grow kind of fond of it in some way. Would prefer Alice didn't insult it.

"She'll have coffee," Mickey said suddenly, as the waitress turned to walk away. "And I'm still waiting on my eggs," he finished, letting his annoyance slip. His stomach grumbled in response.

"I'm fine, actually," Alice corrected, glaring at Mickey while she spoke.

"She'll have coffee and a burger," Mickey quipped, jerking his eyes, wide and daring, from the waitress to Alice. A small, fake grin playing his lips, clearly not friendly.

Alice looked over to the waitress. "I'm not really okay with meat," she said in a whisper, as if she was trying to hide her words from Mickey.

Which was the most absurd thing, given that he sat directly across from her. He snorted. "Rabbit food, then," he said, slurping his coffee again.

"I'm not hungry—'' Alice replied, heated, but stopped short when she met Mickey's silent, challenging stare.

He took a long sip from his coffee.

"A salad would be fine," Alice sighed, swallowing hard and looking up at the waitress from the side.

Confused and looking slightly concerned, the waitress nodded and walked away, telling Mickey's his eggs would be right out. Something in Mickey's expression must have sparked a fire under the waitress's ass because not ten more minutes and the food was on the table.

Mickey waited until Alice took a bite of her salad and drank the hot coffee before he set to eating his eggs. Just sat there and stared the woman down until she had finished almost all of her chopped salad. The ranch dressing looked god awful. While Mickey finally took a forkful of eggs, Alice sat down her own fork and dabbed her lips with a napkin, watching Mickey, face drawn and trepidations. A shit lot different from the cocky attitude she had came in with. She fought for words when Mickey met her eyes, still chewing his eggs. Blinking rapidly and looking around the cafeteria, Alice wrung her hands over the napkin. Mickey recognized her expression. Her breathing pattern. Her constant swallowing. Sudden inability to look at Mickey straight on. Knew this behavior well. This was the bitch suddenly realizing the situation, what she had gotten herself into. This was reality sinking in on Alice. Mickey loved this reaction. Had since the first time he encountered it. This was the thing that made everyone the same in Mickey's eyes. Everyone, no matter if they were rich, poor, religious, military, ex-con, male, female, young, or old. Everyone. No matter where they were from. Everyone reacted like this. Because everyone was the same. Except for Mickey, who sometimes wished he was like that. Wished he cared. Wished he was afraid of murder and crime. Wished he hadn't grown up around it. Wished it hadn't warped him. But oh well. Mickey was different than others and one day would fully come to terms with it.

"I don't know," Alice mumbled. "I'm starting to think I should leave." She still stared away from Mickey. Still tore at the napkin absently.

Mickey wetted his lips, cleared his throat, and sat his fork down. The eggs tasted like shit. He glanced at his coffee, almost empty. Then back at Alice. He snapped his fingers, gaining her quick attention. "Look," Mickey said, scratching his cheek, "I don't give a fuck about who you are or why you came to me with this. I'm not judging you. I just want your money. And you want someone gone. I can provide this." He stopped scratching and looked over at the pimp and prostitute for a second. Knitted his brow. Because the conversation being had between the strangers was getting rather heated. Even the homeless man was staring at them. Mickey tore his eyes away and looked back at Alice. "Last chance. I'm not going to kill you for backing out, since you're thinking that," he said, licking the corner of his mouth. "What's it gonna be?"

She continued staring, swallowing, but seeming to mull it over. Then she leaned forward, frowning, and said, "But I've seen you now. Doesn't that—''

Mickey rolled his eyes and reached out for his coffee. He sloshed it around, listening to the ice, then took a sip and leaned back in the booth. "Lady," he began, "a lot of people have seen me then backed out. What?" he cocked a brow, "you think this is new to me? It ain't." He huffed out a quiet, short laugh, more of a breath, teeth showing some as he smiled sarcastically. "I've been doing this since I was sixteen," he told Alice, cocking his head to the side. "That enough experience for you?"

Alice's eyes openly trailed over Mickey. Finally came to rest on the coffee in his hand. She knitted her brow. Mickey's eyes looked down, following Alice's gaze. He stared for a second at the letters across his knuckles. Figured she was trying to read them.

"Okay," Alice finally sighed. She looked up and their eyes met again. "So how do we go about this? Because it might not be new to you, but it is to me," she asked, voice shaking a little.

Mickey closed his eyes, brows up and mouth tight, taking in a deep breath, ready to spout off the usual 'how you found out about me,' 'what will happen if you go to the police because you change your mind,' 'the money has to be up front,' and 'who am I killing and where do I find them.' Ready to, but didn't get around to it, on account of the sudden scream and reverberating smack sounding off in the cafeteria. Mickey head jerked in the direction he knew the sounds came from. The homeless man near them began rambling louder, rocking in his chair and pulling the beanie over his head, lurching over, back stooped. Alice gasped, eyes growing wide as she looked around, startled.

The woman, who today was wearing an animal printed fur jacket, fishnets, and bright orange leather shorts, despite the snow outside, fell out of the booth, onto her side. Her hands smacked the floor as she landed, legs curled out behind her, still partially on the bench. Mickey furrowed his brow, turning his attention to the pimp, dressed in black slacks, a white tank top, gray sports coat tied around his hips, and suspenders, jumped up from the booth, pointing down at the woman, barking out about the money not being enough. Or something along those lines. As the prostitute sobbed, hands up around her face as she scrambled to her feet, Alice began digging around in her purse. Immediately, Mickey lurched across the table and grabbed Alice's wrists, scowling.

"The fuck are you doing, bitch?" Mickey growled, face so close to Alice's that their foreheads touched.

Alice yelped, tensed up. She dropped the phone back into her purse. "Someone needs to help her," Alice rushed out in one breath. "That woman—''

Mickey tightened his grip on Alice's frail wrist. "That woman," he emphasized, "isn't your concern or mine."

Alice looked over at the scene again. Mickey glanced up behind Alice, to the waitress by the counter. The waitress was staring at the display as well, hand over her chest. But people in this neighborhood didn't call the fucking cops for shit. For many reasons, some personal, some simply out of fear. Mickey was glad for that. But was pissed at Alice for considering it.

"You call the fucking cops," Mickey breathed into Alice's ear, "and I'll gut you right here. Ignore it."

Alice nodded fast, pushing her purse away with her free hand.

"Better," Mickey said, letting her go harshly, but staying close, still.

Alice looked pained as she watched the prostitute and her pimp have out their problems in the open. On the edge of crying, Alice began, "But—'' Mickeys stopped her there.

"This world is god damned ugly," he said, looking over at the pair himself. "Every one in it is fucking hideous and do horrible things. He's ugly. You're ugly. You are no better than him," he pointed over at the pimp. "Bitch, you're sitting here ready to string someone up for me to slaughter. What gives you a right to rat him out?"

"But that woman," Alice trailed as the pimp pulled the prostitute's hair until she was sitting back in the booth. He towered over the crumpled woman, still yelling.

"That woman is fine," Mickey said. Lied. "That woman wants out bad enough, she'd fucking leave him and his bullshit line of work."

Alice looked confused.

"She's a whore, Alice," Mickey sighed, stunned that the woman before him hadn't caught on. He supposed there were still sheltered people out there.

Alice sucked in a breath and looked down at the table. "I don't want this," she breathed.

Mickey jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. "Then go," he said, face blank.

Yet Alice staid. Sat there, staring at the table, Mickey watching her. As the pimp and prostitute continued their antics. Mickey only pulled his eyes away from Alice when the cafeteria door opened up. And only then because he thought, panicking suddenly, that maybe someone else had called the police. No one had. Cold air rushed in again as Ian practically stumbled in backwards, shaking snow flurried from his hair. Bright and practically a beacon in this dingy cafeteria where everything else blended together. Straightening up and slipping on his visor, Ian spun around. Ian froze, eyes wide as he looked on at the prostitute and pimp. By now, the pimp was leaning against the woman, who was all but laying back, whimpering, his finger shoved hard against her pierced nose, fingers biting into her caramel skin. Mickey watched as Ian scowled and shook his head.

"Get off of her," Ian barked. "Take your shit somewhere else, Rodney."

Mickey got the feeling that, just like himself and the mailman sitting at the counter, the pimp and whore came into the cafeteria a lot. Enough that Ian obviously was used to this. Hadn't batted a lash before reacting bluntly. Fucking brave for a kid who seemed to radiate innocence. It was kind of endearing. But then, Mickey didn't really know the guy. For all Mickey knew, Ian made meth in his basement. Maybe even worked with the pimp, whose name the redhead clearly knew. Appearances were sometimes deceiving. And Mickey had seen Ian be assertive on more than one occasion.

Shooting a snide remark in Ian's direction, the pimp hauled his whore up from the booth and pulled her with him as he stormed out. He knocked into Ian as they left. Ian rolled his eyes, shook his head again, and walked toward the kitchen. Furious. Mickey arched a brow. Intrigued already.

Alice breathed out, slow and long. Mickey blinked, suddenly realizing that he was still pressing his forehead against her's. He pulled back and sat stilted in his seat, staring at her. She fiddled with her sunglasses.

"Well?" Mickey said, licking his teeth. "You gone or not?"

"My husband," Alice said, voice dead as she stared at Mickey. He got the feeling she wasn't really seeing him anymore. "His name is Allen Godfrey. He's a pilot," she went one, and one right after the other spilled her need out to Mickey. Mickey who sat there and took in the information, not shocked at all that Alice had gone through with this. As she finished speaking, Mickey caught sight of Ian behind the counter, looking in Mickey's direction. Their eyes met. Ian's face was curious. "How much?" Alice asked, and Mickey went back to the task at hand.

"Straight off, one grand. When it's over, four more."

"That's awfully cheap, considering what you'd be doing," Alice commented, reaching for her purse.

Mickey shrugged. "I'm low rent," he said simple. "Makes up for it in volume."

The words seemed to disturb Alice, who pulled out her wallet. "Five grand for a life," she breathed, popping open the wallet.

Mickey's eyes went wide. He jumped up again, slamming a palm on the table. "Put that shit down," he hissed. "Not fucking here," he went on as Alice's gasped, eyes huge, hands shaking, and dropped the wallet to the table. It clanged. Mickey pursed his lips and shook his head. "Meet me tomorrow. Have the money wrapped up in something.

"Like what?" Alice asked, terrified.

Mickey stared her down, scowling. "I don't fucking care," he bit. "Just don't make it obvious." From the side, he saw the waitress leaving. Saw Ian going over to greet the mailman and pour a fresh mug of coffee. Noticed how Ian's eyes were still one Alice. How Ian was worrying his lip. Could practically see the gears turning. Thinking what, Mickey didn't know. Apparently the punk was as nosy as Mickey. This made Mickey wish he had picked a different venue to meet Alice in.