The Boat That Rocked (Rocketshipping Fanfic)
Chapter 8
Six months later
Jessie tucked her hair behind her ear as she placed a cold bottle of beer on the bar, throwing a smile at the stubble-chinned man who passed her a handful of coins, mumbling a 'thanks' under his stale breath.
As the man moved away to join his drinking pals at one of the tables, Jessie sighed, closing her eyes.
"You alright, Jess?"
She jumped, turning to see Dia standing beside her. "Oh, Dia, didn't see you come down."
The blonde-haired woman touched her shoulder with a manicured hand. "Steve's worried about you, you know?"
Jessie nodded, glancing away, watching the men laugh heartily as they downed chilled beers. She'd forgotten the last time she had laughed like that. It took all she had to give the customers that fake smile.
"He doesn't need to worry about me," She chuckled emptily. "In fact, I'm more worried about Meowth." The cat Pokémon spent his days either curled up on James' bed or waiting down at the port, watching the horizon, his eyes hopeful yet the light diming every passing day.
"You can have some days off, you know," Dia said. "You haven't had one since James left."
She shook her head. "I need to keep my mind on something. I need to be doing something." I need to be here, ready, for when James comes back. His home needs to be waiting for him.
But, as the light in Meowth's eyes dulled every day, so did the hope in her that James would return. No matter how much she worked or how long she maintained that fake smile, it felt like the day that she would welcome him back was even further away. This was never a home to him.
Jessie cleared her throat, waving a hand at her thoughts. "I'll be alright," she said to Dia. "Don't start thinking you can get rid of me that easily."
The woman laughed, her warm smile easing the anxiety in Jessie's chest. "Okay, okay."
The night went too fast, the customers leaving, the regulars calling farewells as the door swung shut behind them. Steve appeared from upstairs, keys in hand, and flipped over the open sign on the door.
"I'll lock up," he dangled the keys on the tip of a finger. "You two can go and have fun."
Jessie reached for her purse and looked up, confused. "You two?"
Dia's arm wrapped around her shoulders, the weight of the woman suddenly pressing down on her back. "Yeah, we're going out! Partying – getting drunk!"
"But-"
"No buts!" Dia released her, spinning around on her tiptoes as she moved down the bar. "We're going out – on an adventure! Two women hitting the clubs!"
Jessie raised an eyebrow. "There isn't any clubs."
The woman froze. "Yes, I suppose there isn't, is there?"
Steve folded his arms, a hint of a smile on his face. Dia gave him a disapproving look before spreading her arms out wide, a grin revealing white teeth as she faced Jessie. "Then we'll just have to go to yours, won't we?"
Jessie blinked. What are these two planning? "Mine?"
"Yeah," she bent down, searching under the bar, and grabbed two expensive looking bottles. "We'll take these and have a great night! A girls' night in, yeah?"
Jessie sighed. She couldn't argue with Dia. Once she had an idea in her head, that was it, no going back. I suppose this is their way of being there for me, supporting me.
For the first time in six months a genuine smile spread across her lips. "Thank you."
"What you talkin' about?" Steve said.
"Yeah, Jess, no need to thank us. We're always here, okay?"
Jessie nodded, her grasp tightening on her purse, her eyes watering as she spoke again, "Thank you."
-#-
James shifted on the bar stool, his hand cupping a glass of amber liquid, his head bowed over it. He brought the glass to his mouth, letting the liquid touch his lips but not drinking it. He hated the taste of the stuff and he wanted a clear head.
Placing the glass back on the bar, he glanced over at one of the booths in the corner. Four men in suits were discussing something, hard expressions on their faces, cold smiles on their lips.
The man wearing the sunglasses, even inside, was the client. The quiet man beside him was his bodyguard, the bulge of a handgun obvious in his suit pocket.
The clean-shaven man with a chiselled chin, light brown hair curling around his face, was Alphonse. He had attracted the attention of a few women the moment he stepped into the club, their approaches only stopped by the man who stayed by his side. He was tall, towering over everyone in the club, his dark eyes emotionless and his shirt tight under his suit jacket. He had no real name and was known as Budge.
None of the four men noticed the blue-haired man at the bar, sipping at a drink that never emptied.
James watched as an envelope was placed on the table between them, the client staring at it, seemingly confused.
Budge then appeared to be uncomfortable in his seat, changing position, one of his hands reaching into his suit as if to pull at the tight shirt. The client visibly flinched.
Alphonse tapped the envelope with a long finger, leaning over the table till his face was inches away from the client's. The man's bodyguard tensed, his hand too disappearing into his suit.
James looked away. They're too obvious. It's like they want to draw people's attention.
And sure enough they had. Men sat at another booth were watching the four with interest. They talked among themselves, laughed in the right places, drinking from their long glasses of beer, but their eyes never left the four in the corner.
Police.
James pulled out his mobile phone, opened up a text message and typed a single word – 'Fire.'
Hitting send, he replaced the phone in his coat pocket and waited. A few seconds past until Alphonse leaned back in his seat and pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen. James could almost hear the man click his tongue in frustration.
James stood up, walking towards the exit. No one looked at him, the cops never stopped watching the four, and the four themselves never glanced over at him as he left the club.
He halted outside and scanned the street. A crowd had built up over the last few hours and the night was bustling with people, lights advertising various clubs and bars, groups of people and couples speaking too loudly as they passed by.
As he scanned the crowd, his eyes landed on a lone man across the street, a cigarette burning between his fingers, a Growlithe sitting loyally by his side.
There they are.
The man and his Pokémon were backup for the men inside, waiting for the signal to take action. James stepped forwards and disappeared into the crowd, reaching for his phone again – 'Fire adjacent.'
Alphonse would understand the meaning of the texts, would know that 'fire' referred to the police and their Fire-type Pokémon. What he would do with the information was up to him. James always left before anything happened, preferring not to get involved in the crossfire.
James turned off the crowded main street into a series of alleyways until reaching a desolate road, apartment blocks lining each side. There were no parked cars or lone night walkers, or stray Pokémon. A flickering streetlight was the only source of light and James evaded it, sticking to the shadows.
He stopped at the end of the road and ascended a flight of stairs to a code-locked door. He stabbed some numbers into the keypad and pushed open the door, ignoring the elevator and heading for the stairs.
His apartment was on the fifth floor and he took two steps at a time, bounding up the stairs till he reached his door. He ran a finger around the edge of it until he found the slip of paper and the bobby pin he had placed in different places.
Placing both in his pocket, he unlocked the door and went inside.
He shrugged off his coat, making sure to retrieve his phone before throwing it on top of the coffee table. He collapsed onto the old sofa, the springs groaning in protest underneath him as he turned over so he lay on his back, his legs hanging over the sofa arm.
He rested his phone on his chest and closed his eyes, waiting for the text message that was sure to come.
After he had left the island on the ferry and arrived at the mainland, James had moved from city to city until finding a place that seemed bright on the surface yet shadows whispered and lingered.
He decided to stay in such a place and brought this apartment, searching for a job straight away. It wasn't long before he realized that a normal job in a shop or café wouldn't cut it. The wages were low and the jobs were rare, students jumping on them as soon as they were available.
So he turned to the shadows and an entire new side of the city opened up to him. He didn't want to involve himself in the violence or the corrupted deals, and created a place of his own in the darkness of the city.
People came to him for information, they came to him to stand guard, they came to him to find people or places. He always kept a distance, only reporting and then leaving before anything happened.
Tonight, his job had been to stand watch over a particular meeting with one of the main men of the shadows – Alphonse. Alphonse had hired him, wanting him to keep an eye out for hopefuls that may interrupt or for police.
Alphonse was well known in all corners of the city and the police were constantly at his heels yet could never quite reach him. He was always one step in front.
He had hired James numerous times, always sending one of his men to his apartment to give him the job and the necessary details, the rest done by text and when it was over, the details about the payment would also be sent to his phone.
His phone buzzed on his chest, the screen lighting up. James reached for it, his thumb sliding across the screen to unlock it. Details of a time and location had been sent to him.
He glanced at the clock. Half an hour till the time and it will take me twenty minutes to get there.
James stood up, rubbing a hand across the top of his head. He cut his hair every month, keeping it short. It wasn't as close to the skin as the first time, but his scar was still visible from beneath the blue.
He grabbed his coat and pulled it on, dropping his phone into the pocket. He locked his apartment door behind him, replacing the slip of paper and bobby pin, and went downstairs. After leaving the apartment block, he turned left, entering another series of alleyways, this time moving further away from the busy crowds of the main streets and nearing the industrial district of the city.
James slowed his pace as he stepped onto a gravel path that ended at gate – the entrance to abandoned warehouses.
The gate was still electrified to ward off curious walkers that wouldn't bother checking if the wire fence was electrified as well.
James lifted the wire fence and ducked under it, moving quickly into the shadows before anyone saw him. There were three warehouses in the compound, all in different stages of ruin. He walked towards the third one, the least in ruin, and knocked twice on the open door.
He waited, counting to ten, before stepping inside.
The darkness inside the warehouse was more complete than that of outside and it took time for his eyes to become accustomed to it. Once they had, he searched the shadows and a woman leaning against the wall of the warehouse waved at him.
They sent her again…