Chicago Nights Ch. 02

Adrian scowled, hearing a painful cry emanate from the pimp's office. He forced himself to fill the sink with soapy water and begin his afterhours cleaning. Soaking a rag, he patiently and meticulously wiped down the bar surfaces, trying to tune out the sounds of Hunter's 'training.' As he did so, he glanced up at the mirror behind the bar and froze.

"Oh," he said. "You."

The Stranger stared back at him, looking disgusted. "You already cleaned the bar top forty minutes ago, you fucking idiot."

"No I didn't," he insisted.

This drew a snicker. "Like hell, you didn't. You fucking joke." There was a yelp from the backroom, and the Stranger sneered. "Oh, I get it. That's what the problem is, isn't it? You're distracted."

"Go away," Adrian hissed.

"You want to fuck her," The Stranger sneered back at him, "don't you?"

"Shut up."

"Oh, that's funny, coming from you. Do you think she-"

"Shut up!"

The Stranger only laughed harder. "You can't fool me. I know what you really want, Adrian."

"You don't know anything!" Adrian barked back.

"Who doesn't?" a third voice called suddenly, causing him to swing around.

The Mad Dog was there, locking the front door behind him.

"We're, ah...closed," he stammered, without knowing why.

"And a good thing, too. Otherwise you'd be breaking the law." The Dog checked the door. "Is he back there?"

"He is. But he's...busy."

Andro just grinned. "Then I really ought to go and ruin the mood. Don't you think?" He walked brusquely toward the back.

"Hey!" Adrian called out instinctively. It was stupid, he knew. Even Hunter would tell him this wasn't any of his business.

But the Mad Dog stopped and turned. "Hey, yourself, Stranger," he came up and leaned on the bar. "How are you holding up?"

Adrian tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. So he just continued cleaning the glasses. "Still alive," he offered.

"Aren't you just," Andro turned, leaning his back against the bar. "I have to admit, I was hoping you would have something for me. I was hoping that you'd have solved that riddle."

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure I haven't?"

"If you knew the answer to the riddle, then you'd know the answer to that question, too."

Adrian dried his hands and turned to look out at the bar. "Alright," he admitted. "I haven't. I've got another one in my head, and it's been getting in the way. It's...distracting me."

Andro nodded. "That happens, doesn't it? Something always interferes...usually something a little more," he turned around, scratching his chin, "in your face." He looked around the room. "Something like this bar. Am I right?"

Adrian clicked his tongue, hesitating for a moment. Then he decided to share what he'd been up to. "I've been tracking costumers, looking for patterns. I can't figure how he does it...connects the men to the girls. You know?"

"You mean Hunter? Oh, Stranger...you underestimate that man's laziness." Andro sniffed. "Hunter doesn't like to work. He doesn't like to do anything, really, except beat up little girls and fuck whores. So he doesn't schedule shit. The girls do that."

"What?"

"Oh, yeah. They schedule with the johns, in person. And they keep Hunter informed of what's owed. No money ever trades hands between prostitute and pole. What Hunter does is whatever he can to keep people thinking that all the business is done at the bar, you see, so that everybody's looking in the wrong damn place."

"Then how-"

Andro swung around, suddenly animated. "Detective," he said with a flourish, "I can assure you of one thing...the collecting agent is right here, in this room." He tapped one finger on the bar. "And he's one ugly son of a bitch."

Adrian blinked. "Me?"

"Not a drinker, are you, Stranger?" Andro leaned forward, eyes dancing with amusement.

"No."

"Never tried the wares, as it were? Never tempted?"

"Nope."

"Too bad. If you had, you'd have wondered why all these dark mother fuckers were paying so much for colored water."

Adrian turned and looked at the bottles behind the counter. "Water?"

"Colored water. Mixed with whatever distilled juice, or uncarbonated beverage, or safe agent it takes to get them looking right. But water all the same...or apple juice, I suppose. It looks a hell of a lot like whisky in a crystal glass, doesn't it?" He shrugged. "These guys come in here and they pay liquor prices...stupidly steep liquor prices, I might add...for water and juice. Ever have some non-mafia types come in, order their drinks, spit them out and leave without paying?"

"Figured I'd done something wrong. So I practiced more."

Andro scoffed. "Waste of time. There's not another bar in town where a scotch and coke is gonna cost you as much as it does at the Rage. But ordering ten of those will just about pay for the ass you split the night before. Dig?" Andro waved his hand across the empty bar. "The guys you see come in here night after night, they aren't alcoholics. They just happen to owe a lot of money for pussy. Gee," Andro turned around and locked eyes with the bartender. "I guess that makes YOU part pimp, doesn't it, Stranger?" His face split into a smile. "How's it feel to be a genuine criminal?"

Adrian just stared back at him.

"Ahh," Andro shook his head. "Hunter told you it wasn't any of your business, didn't he? That's just like his type: tell you the exact opposite of what's true. Guys like Hunter Kaufman get by on lies and sleight of hand. Not me. I always tell the truth...shit, I even like it."

Adrian shook his head, realizing how deeply he'd let himself be taken in. Then, a thought struck him. "What about beer?"

"What about it?"

"They order that sometimes, too. It just seems like...beer, I guess."

"Because it is. Even people who've fallen this low like to have a beer now and then, friend."

"There's one guy, that's all he orders."

Andro's eyebrows rose, suddenly, and Adrian knew he'd caught his interest. "Ahh...now we have come to the weakness in Hunter Kaufman's strategy. By keeping poor little Adrian in the dark, he is able to invite him in to the list of guilty parties without his knowing. But then, as a consequence, Adrian isn't aware enough to recognize or report any danger signs. He doesn't, for example, realize that the only people who would drink nothing but beer in a place like this would be either cops looking to bust him or rivals looking to kill someone." Andro shook his head. "You don't know that they're avoiding the booze because they're paying for their secrecy on their own goddamn dime. You, my friend, don't know enough to see that a little beer can get you killed. But wait," he leaned to the side and whispered conspiratorially, "now you do know. And maybe..." he smiled wide, "...that will help you solve my riddle."

Adrian stared, shook his head.

The Mad Dog shrugged. "Don't blame Hunter," he advised, stepping away from the bar. "Sometimes you have to use people. Sometimes, the gun gets pointed in your direction, and you find someone else to stand in the way." With that, he sauntered away.

-=-=-

Adrian didn't sleep much that night. He tossed and turned, furious with the world and with himself.

It ate at him, the way time chews up a body, to know what he'd been duped into doing. It wasn't even the possibility that the beer drinking man was a cop, or that he might be in legal danger. It was that he hadn't ever thought to wonder if he might be in trouble. Hunter had taken advantage of him, yes, but it had been incredibly easy to do so. It angered Adrian to know that he was such an easy mark.

"Even a child can recognize danger."

"I was drinking Pepsi," he thought. "Every damn day I went in there, I ignored the stench and the lack of people, sat down and had myself a Pepsi. Not tequila, or scotch or a mixed drink, just...soda pop. It must have made his day."

As the sun started to threaten the night, his thoughts turned to Ella, and some of the other girls Hunter had brought through during his time as barman. "They pay me," he thought in their direction, "so that they can have you." He glanced out the window at the billowing snow. "What does that make me?" Then, at last, he slept.

Some hours later, Adrian was awoken by the ringing of his phone.

He groaned, looked at the clock, and almost didn't answer. Who could be calling him at nine in the morning, other than Hunter? He didn't want to hear from that greasy fuck, and he...

Ella. Maybe it was about Ella.

Uncertain of why that even mattered, he picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" he said, his voice cracked from sleep.

There was a hesitant pause. "Adrian?" a little voice rasped. Even as quiet and broken as it was, it struck him as familiar. He couldn't quite say why, but it was definitely someone he knew.

"Ella?" he frowned.

Another pause. "Adrian, it's me."

The breath went out of him. "Laura?" he cringed. Even the act of speaking his ex-wife's name was painful.

"It's me, Adrian," she said again. "I just wanted to call you and...and tell you how sorry I am. I really want you to know ...I need you to know it."

He sat up, suddenly angry. What was this? Just another con artist, out for an easy mark? Well, he'd played that part enough lately. "Is that really why you're calling?" he snapped. "You looked me up so you can say sorry? After all this time? Why bother, Laura? So you can sleep a little easier at night?" He coughed. "Well, sleep easy. Because sorry fixes everything."

"No! It's not like that." Laura's voice was high pitched, almost manic. "Adrian, I wanted-"

"How's the baby?" he asked, taunting her. "How's your precious little family?"

Her breath became heavy, and her words became static. "I..know...I...deserve-"

"Just stop it. Okay? Just stop." He coughed again. "You think I need to hear this from you?"

She was crying, he suddenly realized. "I just...I need to say it, Adrian. I need to know that you're okay, and-"

"Yeah, well I'm not. Alright? I'm not fucking okay." He hung up, and slammed his fist on the bed. This didn't prove to be enough, however, so he grabbed the phone back up and threw it at the wall, shattering the base and leaving a splintered hole in the cheap paneling.

He looked at it, cursed, and shook his head.

"Got enough riddles in my life," he sighed. "Got more than enough." Then he stood up and grabbed one of his fifth grade exercise books off the table.

-=-=-

No sooner had he entered the Rage, that day, than Hunter came out of his office with a smug look on his face. "Little bird fell out of her nest again," he winked. "See to her, will you?"

"Yeah," Adrian muttered. Then, he curled his lip and said, "You know, if things are gonna stay this busy, I could really use someone else to help out. It's getting to be too many people for one guy."

"Nobody's complained yet," Hunter was throwing his coat over his shoulders.

"I just did."

Hunter turned, studying his bartender carefully. He was used to a lot of things from Adrian Burke, but backtalk was new. The tone in the scarred man's face was aggressive, almost begging for a fight. It was a scenario Hunter understood. "Okay, Adrian," he said slowly, locking eyes with him, "I'll think about it." The smirk that spread across his face betrayed the truth of the message. "In the meantime, why don't you just go ahead and have yourself a nice little time on our Ella. You seem like you could use a little more...fun...in your life."

Adrian didn't answer. Instead, he turned and headed down the hall to see to the injured woman. Pausing briefly at the door, he breathed deep and then turned the knob. "It's Adrian," he said, knowing by now how much she feared the sound of the door, and how much it calmed her to hear his voice.

He pushed into the room and stopped. Ella lay nude upon the couch, curled into a ball, breathing but otherwise motionless. Thick bruises pockmarked her legs and back. Adrian held his breath and moved forward.

Sitting down near her feet, he examined the visible bruises. "Would you like some water?" he asked. She didn't respond.

He reached out, and touched her leg. It wasn't an intimate move, or a caring one...just an attempt to get a response out of her.

Inside his head, the Stranger chuckled. "Well that feels nice."

Adrian shook his head, withdrawing the hand.

"You know what I think?" the voice continued. "I think you have feelings for this woman."

"No," Adrian whispered.

"Does it bother you, to have to care about someone again?" the voice taunted. "Or are you just upset that it had to be another whore?"

"Stop!" Adrian closed his eyes, standing up.

"Oh, I think that's it, isn't it?" The Stranger laughed a bitter laugh. "You can't stand it that you care about her. Her, of all people. A fucking whore!"

Ella jerked, moving lightning quick and heaving away from him. Shaking, whispering, she curled up at the far end of the couch. "No," she pleaded, with a child's defenselessness. Then she blinked, looked around the room, recognized Adrian, and relaxed a little. "It's you," she said, tilting her head. "It didn't sound like..."

Adrian shook his head. "You were dreaming."

"No." She rubbed her hands over her face. "Not anymore." she put her hand to her stomach, and closed her eyes. "What is there left to dream about, anyway?"

Adrian opened his mouth, but had no answer. Instead, he went about seeing to her wounds.

"It's getting worse," he noted, as he wiped the blood from her face. "He's getting more violent, I mean. Less careful."

She didn't answer.

"I could talk to him." It sounded stupid, useless even to his own ears. But he felt her muscles release a little under his hands when he said it.

"He's upset. He thought he was buying a whore," she said.

"He was buying a person," Adrian corrected. "And he knew that."

"He is beginning to believe that he made a mistake." She was quiet a long time. So long that Adrian began to believe the conversation over. Then she continued. "Some mistakes, I think okay, you just fix them. But others...cannot be fixed." Her hand rubbed up her arm, squeezing the shoulder gently. "They cannot be molded into anything other than what they are. They cannot be fixed. So a different solution is there."

He swallowed. "He's just frustrated."

She shook her head. "For now. But soon he will begin to ask himself what to do with a mistake." she allowed a deep breath in, and held it. "When it is an unfixable thing, what do you do with it? This thing that is wrong?"

Adrian thought about Laura. "It's not that bad, yet," He insisted, not believing it.

"Not yet." She forced a smile. "And, I still have you."

He met her gaze. "You have me," he admitted.

The smile vanished. "Would you...sit with me?"

"Why?"

"Please."

He climbed up on the couch, and she leaned against him. Awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and felt her breathing. After a while, he came to realize that she was asleep. The slow, even swell and release of her lungs suggested a freshly found calm. Adrian had other chores to do...quite a few, actually...but he made no effort to move. He sat holding her, thinking no thoughts and dreaming no dreams, until she woke two hours later.

-=-=-

That night, the beer drinker was back.

Adrian made no bones about the fact that he was watching the man. The beer drinker returned the favor, until they were doing little more than staring at each other. This seemed to amuse the beer drinker, who made a point of looking at his watch in between sips. Adrian took it as an empty gesture...an attempt to add some indifference to the thick man's piercing gaze, but ultimately meaningless.

Two children are lost in the woods...

He shook his head. Now was not the time for that. He'd been thinking about Andro's riddle more and more, now that Andro had revealed Hunter's con game, and not just because he had time to. It seemed...more important, somehow. Significant, or just large. Anyway, it kept popping up.

The evening was passing pretty swiftly. Hunter showed up a little after eight, just when things were starting to peak and about twenty minutes after the beer drinker had gone. Adrian chewed over the idea of telling his boss about the mystery visitor, but decided against it. After all, if Hunter had had his way Adrian would still be unaware enough to even know that a man drinking beer was dangerous at all. He saw no reason to offer unwanted assistance. He simply waved to the owner as he passed by, headed toward the back office.

Toward Ella.

The Stranger appreciated this thought. "Poor guy," he crooned in Adrian's head. "Did it feel good to hold her? Is it sweet, the way she looks at you when you look after her for him, in between fucks?"

The taunting went on like that for a while, but Adrian didn't reply and eventually the Stranger grew bored and quiet. He wouldn't be taunted about Ella anymore. She was like him...she'd forgotten how to swim, and was just doing what she could to tread water until she washed up on the shore somewhere, and could walk again.

Business slowed quite a bit in the late hours. In fact, by midnight it was so quiet that Adrian was able to get quite a bit of his after-closing chores finished up. At first it was a welcome surprise, but when the last customer walked out a full twenty minutes before close Adrian started to get nervous. He studied the empty room, tapping his fingers on a beer tap, wondering what it meant. It smelled wrong.

Fuck it. He decided to tell Hunter.

Coming around the bar, he tossed his rag into the sink and moved toward the office. Getting closer, he heard the sound of feminine tears, and was filled by an unexpected heat. Moving faster, breathing hard, he hammered three times on the door, wanting to pull Hunter away from whatever sickness he was indulging.

There was an irritated grunt. "Who is it?"

"Me," Adrian said.

"What the fuck do you want? I'm busy."

The heat was growing. "I'm coming in," he said, his voice louder and more clipped than intended.

There was a pause. "Look, Adri-"

Adrian threw open the door. Ella was naked, bent over the desk, Hunter was standing shirtless, sweating. One of his hands rested on the prostrated woman's bright red asscheek. The other held a long, rounded piece of wood, possibly a chair leg. The jagged end, where it had been snapped from its unknown home, was aimed outward at nothing. The almost two inch diameter rounded end, conversely, was aimed far more dubiously. Ella looked back over her shoulders at Adrian, the look on her tear-streaked and swollen face one of intense pleading. He knew she wasn't pleading with him to help her. She was pleading with him to walk away. She was scared of what might happen to him.

He turned his gaze back to Hunter. The large man's face had grown taught. He saw something primal birthed in Adrian's eyes, and he'd seen such things before. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but was already preparing his defense even before Adrian rushed him.

The two men went down in a heap, awkwardly swinging at each other as they fell. Hunter twisted into the collision, causing Adrian to land roughly, shoulder first, on the concrete. Sharp pain squealed down his arm as he rolled up into a crouching position. Hunter was already climbing to his feet, rage pinching his features. He came at Adrian, swinging the wooden club mindlessly. Adrian turned and let the oncoming swing catch his injured shoulder, where it wouldn't be felt as strongly. Meanwhile, he reached for Hunter's face, digging a thumb into his right eye and sending the large man screeching and twisting away. He took the opportunity to send a kick hard against the side of a knee, dropping his opponent down and forcing him to slam the other knee to the floor for support. He lifted his foot to kick again, but Hunter swung out with the table leg and clipped his raised foot, knocking Adrian off balance long enough for the big man to come up and strike him in the shoulder again, sending him sprawled at the foot of the couch.