She slid into the seat in my booth across from me, a look of obvious distaste on her face. "I've never liked this shit hole you call your local, and I never will." She had said that plenty of times before, but she came back at least to visit, but not to stay. I gave her my winningest smile, "well, if all goes according to my brilliant plan, this might be the last time you darken Sully's doorstep, so it's a win/win for everyone." She glared at me (she was a good one for glares) "and what does that mean, you drunken reprobate?" "It means" I said with another smile, this one less winning, "that after our little chat here today. I expect I shall not have to request your presence again." She laughed, "that suits me right down to the ground, I have moved on with my life, and am tired of these 'matter of life or death' summons from you every time you get drunk and remember things you should have said to me while you were sober." She foisted another glare on me at the end of that sentence just to make sure her point had gotten across. It had, but not in the way she intended. I wouldn't need to tell her much of anything after this conversation was over, and that also suited me. Some lessons have to be rinsed and repeated on "the hard way" to finally get through to me. It's a personal failing of mine, one of many.
"I took the liberty of ordering you the one drink you can have without getting tipsy" I said. I figure it would do you some good, and you'll forgive me for wanting to have one for old time's sake." She nodded at the drink, and at the blond girl that sat in down in front of her. "As long as it's one drink, and nothing else, fine." I nodded my thanks at the barmaid, and smiled again. "It's just one drink, but there is a small something else." She shot another glare at me, "I knew something was up when you said it was important and couldn't wait, but I had hoped it was just you being dramatic, again". I shook my head "no, my dear, you beat the drama out of me, we are here on a type of business proposition. You see, a little while ago I had an awkward conversation with a fellow that we both know. One I used to call a friend. I say used to because I am not sure that he is a friend after our difficult chat."
She snorted, "Why do I care if someone finally figured out that you are a son of a bitch, that only thinks of himself first, and everyone else after, if at all?" I sighed, "we both know that isn't exactly true it is just the way I like to present myself to the world, and to the wide world it might be true. But to the select few (and I mean few) I call my friends, it quite simply isn't true. You know that, they know that, and I know that. It's an affection, I try to be unapproachable to the weirdos that I run into on a day to day basis. Now thanks to you, the number of actual friends I possess seems to have dropped by one. To most people losing one friend is sad, but not really a big deal. I've heard that most people have a lot of friends, some claim to even have hundreds of them. Well, that's just dandy, but I am not one of those people. The number of friends I can truly lay that label on wouldn't fill up a jury box, which is a bit of irony that isn't lost upon me."
She laughed "and that is exactly one person's fault, yours, and yours alone you know this, have known this for years. So why are you bothering me with this sad sack story today?" I lost my smile. "The reason I am bothering you, as you put it, you self centered bitch, Is that you and your lies cost me a friend. Something I don't have an overabundance of, and I feel you should be able to relate, since you don't have nearly as many friends as you like to think you do, and we are going to fix that problem here today as well." She narrowed her eyes, "what do you mean?"
I replied "let me tell you a quick little story, I know you hate my stories but this one is short, and at the moment, I give exactly zero fucks about what you hate." She raised her eyebrows, she wasn't exactly used to the peasants (me) talking to her like this, and didn't really know what to think. I never really lost my temper with her, and so this display of temper, while not exactly authentic, confused her. "This story is simple, it is about someone named Steve. Steve wasn't exactly a friend, but we knew each other and would raise a glass from time to time, and Steve liked to talk. I can't say that I liked to listen but sometimes you have nowhere else to be, and will let a fellow ramble on about his life, maybe he will say something useful. It's rare, but it does happen. Steve wasn't an honest fellow, he didn't punch a clock, or draw a salary, he was a burglar. He broke into people's houses, took what he could move by himself, and sold it for whatever he could get. He wasn't was going to retire to the south of France on the fruits of his "labours" but he got by alright."
She sighed, I raised a forestalling hand. "I know, I know. Anyway I asked Steve how he managed to make a living doing what he did, and he replied that "everybody has a box." I queried "a box? like a safe?" He nodded back "yeah yeah like a safe, but not really a safe, most people can't afford a safe, so they just get a box. You find the box, you find all the goodies you need to make a living." I nodded, "and you are good at finding these boxes?" He nodded back "yeah, it ain't that hard most nobs keep them in one of about three places. I ain't going to tell you where, but it's usually pretty easy." I said "whatever you say Steve, you're the expert." He smiled, and repeated "yeah expert, that's what I am."
"Well one day Steve the expert burglar picked the wrong house, and Steve got himself unalived, the homeowner came back early and in addition to his 'box' owned a pistol which he used to send Steve to the great beyond. Thus ends Steve's sad tale." She glared again "is there a point to this nonsense, I don't care that some cheap thug buddy of yours got himself killed stealing what wasn't his in the first place, and I am very certain you didn't cry at the funeral, if you even bothered to attend."
"Patience, my sweet, the point of Steve's sad demise is I thought about the box idea, and decided it sounded a good one. Therefore, I made myself up a box. I don't have anything physical that has any real value, I am not one to collect trinkets or heirlooms. I collect books, books not too many people want to read, but that's their problem. No, my box wasn't jewels, or deeds to a country house. My 'box' contained documents, documents that consists of other people's secrets. She grimaced as if she knew where this was headed, she was a bitch, but she wasn't a stupid one. I continued "and of course as you are aware I like to preserve things like conversations, photos, and the like. We had a lot of those, chats that is, talks about our plans with each other back when we were "in love" and shit. There also exists a lot of photos, as you are aware. All of these things, and others were safely tucked away in my box as of yesterday."
She arched an eyebrow (we could have a discussion about her eyebrows, but that would be rude) "what do you mean "were." I smiled back "well you see after the loss of population in the village of my friends, I got to thinking, and I decided that my box, or at least your compartment of it really didn't need to be quite as protected as the rest. And in an awkward turn of events it seems I was burgled, and wouldn't you know it, the thieving bastards stole my box, or at least the part with your name on it." Unlike our dear, departed Steve's victims, I keep several boxes, I feel it's safer that way. Good thing too, since all the other boxes remain safely hidden, but yours, well yours is gone."
"GONE! what the blue fuck do you mean GONE!" she hissed a little too loudly. "You know gone as in poof! I am sure it is in good hands, and nothing bad will happen, but I thought I should let you know, just in case something tragic happens." She gave me a death stare "tragic? like what?" I shrugged "well everyone has their own definition of tragedy, but in this case I guess something like your mother, worst enemy, current paramour, or employer getting a full copy of the contents. That would, I guess, constitutes a tragedy, for you at least."
She sputtered a bit before she got out a stream of swear words about my character (lacking), my looks (also lacking), my weight (not lacking), and most of my family members, but mainly focused on the wolf that raised me raising a true son of a bitch, before she ran out of steam. It was impressive, and bar the things about me mother, it was mostly true, which I guess helped. I held up a forestalling hand, "I do have some good news, if you'd like to hear?" She snarled "what could be the good news?" I smiled "well being the careful fellow that I am, I keep multiple copies." I slid a package across the table towards her, "as far as I can tell from my careful examination of this unfortunate theft, these are the documents, that have been pilfered from my possession. I figured you deserved to know exactly what was taken."
She took the envelope with barely concealed hate flashing in her eyes, "and what the fuck do you plan to do about this "theft"." I shrugged "do? why nothing. what could I possibly do?" She replied "ask your fucking friend Felix to find the bastard who supposedly stole this" she raised the packet "and have him shoot the bastard, isn't that what Felix does?" I laughed "sweetheart that's not how this works. Felix doesn't shoot people because I ask him. I dare say Felix hasn't shot anyone in years." She spat "you know what I mean, he has people do it for him, but either way he's the cause."
"Whatever Felix does, or whomever Felix has do it, he does not dance to the tune I call. He owes me no favours, nor does he care about you in the least. Unless he can somehow use you against me. Which, I might add, he has done in past till he figured out it doesn't work anymore. I know his lack of caring about you, hurts your pride, but look at the bright side, being beneath Felix's attention is a pretty sweet place to be." She stood up practically vibrating with anger, "you son of a bitch, there is no way this was a theft you did this, and you did it on purpose." I drew back in mock horror, "why sweetie that hurts, here (I pointed to my heart), and here ( I pointed to my head), why would I do such a terrible thing? I am as horrified by this unfortunate event as you are, I have feelers out to try to find the bastard or bastards that did this, and am hopeful I will have a name soon."
"When you do, I am sure you will let me know" she said as she started towards the door. "Why, of course I will let you know the miscreant's name when/if I find it out." She spat a "thanks you bastard" and made her exit. She was a good one for exits when she put her mind to it, she knew it, I knew it, and she knew I knew it we are a knowledge pair of people. I sighed and said just loud enough to be heard, "well that went well I think, all things considered." Felix stood up from the booth behind me and replied "GI, you are, in fact a true bastard, your mother must despair." I smiled "actually Felix, the wolf that raised me is quite proud of me, who would have thunk it?"
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