The Boneyard rose up out of a stretch of nothing like a scar on the back of the city. Having rolled through the monotony of dereliction and wasteland to the length of several tracks off Dre's '2001', sign of it finally came into focus amongst the crawling haze. It filled the eyes at a distance with harsh, perforations of snarling light where the dimming sky lit aflame the rubble-pile of steel trash and steel treasure. The threat of dusk was already forming.
Behind Roach, the Pontiac charger, loaned from Kate for the trip out there, ticked away in the receding sun as skinny legs carried the dreadlocked blonde up the wind-blown dirt path and in through the gate as she tucked her round, mirrored aviators into her tank and stopped to peer up; the name of the yard formed of many off-casts of misfit metal. She grinned to herself some and continued on through the gate to weave through the piles of wheel-less cars, soulless trucks, ancient buses and even a blown-out taxi, to the small, squat office where her contact waited.
"Hey little lady!" From behind her; the most distinct voice she had ever known. Deep, resounding. She turned to find its owner just as her boot swung over the threshold and in through the door.
"Bones!" She walked straight up and gave him a fist bump which he evolved into a tight hug and a dust of his knuckles along the crown of her head. "Come on in, kid. Beer?"
"Yeah, sounds good. How have you been?"
"Eh, business is a bit slow. Off time of year. Your friend didn't come see me by the way, what was his name again? Roger?"
"Nope. Robbie. He's... uh... been out of town." Dropping into a chair she accepted the Red Orc from him and clinked hers against his as they threw the lids into the trash and drank in unison.
Bones leaned back into the table. The man was 6'3, with a shocking, often unruly mass of thick, white hair. His face was always a curious mix between kind and severe. She knew him to be the former but then the pills she had given him had done as assured and she'd never ripped the guy off. She knew severe lingered in the wings. Severe always could make an appearance. His method of dress was always the same; some sort of ragged tank or wife beater, baggy jeans or cargo's and a pair of army disposal combats. He kept a plain khaki military jacket hung on the back of the chair behind his crammed desk, but she was yet to see him ever don it. Even on the coolest evenings, when they'd made late for the trade, he'd appeared to her in a singlet of some variety.
"He like that Lugosi thing I sold ya? Man, sorry to part with that but he sounds like the kind who'd like it."
"Thinks he did" she replied with a casual shrug. "Hard to tell with him, mostly, what he like and what he don't like. He used it in his vampire exhibit so's I suppose I did good."
Bones chuckled at her and took another swig. "You bring the shiz?"
Roach sat forward and dug around in the back pocket of her jeans and held out the baggie. "Like you asked. Kate charged you less this time."
He lifted his brows. "I don't like favors, Roachie. You know this."
"Take it up with her, man. Not my biz. Said you're one of her better clients so's..."
He narrowed his eyes as he dug a slender finger into the bag to inspect the multicoloured pill, turning it around under his probing eye. He sniffed it and then threw the bag onto his keyboard.
"So, you said you had something to run by me?" The beer in the glass tinkled a few minor keys as he took another sip and watched her hard.
"Looks, trying to get something going. Networking, yeah?" She sighed and sat back into the squeaky chair and slid her boots forward so that her soles were up, heels rocked back against the leg of the chair. Another sip, as she paused over his question. "There's a few players might be good to get on the same team, as it were. I know, I know you like to play your own game from this end, keeping out of being bandit, but looks.. there's mutual gain here, for everyone."
"Kid, I don't do favors for a reason. And I don't play well with others. I don't have a need to go big."
"Bones, no one smart knocks back more money. Not if how it's done is safe. I'm not going into this proposal heavy handed and I'm not saying any of this without thought behind it."
"Kid..."
"Man, listen up. Kate, you, the Russi-"
"Zakone? No."
"Yo, listen to me."
"I am not doing time again, kid."
"Listen to me."
"No, Roachie, oi..." he sighed and placed down his beer and sat forward in his lean against the table. "The Zakone are not nothing. They are maximum sentences and missing fingers and that is the least of it.. I don't want any mafia bullshiz in my yard."
"The guy who leads out, he's a good guy. You know yourself, every gang, every group, has its off-shoot. I don't want to get too deep with people like that, but I kind of already am, man. And Vitaly, the guy I'm speaking about, he's a smart guy. He don't take stupid well and he don't bet on sore ponies."
Bones shot her a pointed look as he hulked over her, a smirk forming.
"Okay. Looks. I wasn't his choice. My boyfriend talked him into it."
The smirk continued to grow.
"Bones. Dude?"
He laughed; it boomed loudly and he waved at her fetching up his beer. "Playing, kid. But look... what kind of stuff can he get."
"Weapons. Pills. I brought it up to one of them the other night. Thinking, we gets a congo line going. Select few. Pool our contacts, double our clients, double the profit..."
"And how do you suppose we split it fairly?"
"I'm thinking on it."
"Hell, Roachie. I don't know. I'm leery as frakk about the Russians. How long you known em?"
"I've come to learn to be a little more damn discerning, yo. Okay? I'm telling you, guy wouldn't skint on you. He's a top fella. He's... he's not in a good way right now, but as likes, a little favor, figured I might get things going in his absence while he's in hospital."
"Why is he in hospital?"
"Because of the old crew I ran with. I don't want to get into it, man."
He looked down and shook his head to shift his ass back on the table pushing some piles of paper out of the way and a couple of ancient VHS tapes with scantily clad women on the front.
"I get what you're doing. It's not altogether a bad idea. But you start mixing too many elements, you might have some bang. I got a good situation here, between the parts, the antiques, the miscellaneous weird shiz I get donated and the shiz I peddle. I got stuff that could swing the wrong way if I step too hard; if the floor is weak and it all goes falling. I don't want to go back to prison, kid. I'm trying to keep things small."
"And you can. You totally, totally can, Bones. I'm not saying, you got to go out and get a name tag and join the frakking Zakone. It's just sharing some suppliers, clients, a chain people can depend on, instead of reaching out to lesser sorts for a need. That is dangerous. What I'm proposing is going to be monitored, going to be kept tight as a nun's pussy, yo. Kate don't got no interest in compromising the way she does shiz."
"I'll think about it."
"That's good enough. Text me."
He nodded and took another swig as she drained the bottle. She stood up, a hand reaching back around into her other back pocket, fishing out a few bills. "'Fore I go."
Bones stepped away from the table to walk her out when he paused to looked down at her. "Yeah, kid?"
"You still doing recon on your end of things?" The way she asked got his attention; almost like she was ashamed or really uncomfortable.
He nodded, his eyes sharpening.
The bills were folded once and pushed into his hand. "Johnny Lagos. Can you do a little look-see for me?"
"He threatened you, this got to do with the Crez deal?"
"Nope. Just... someone might be invited to that disco I'm talking about."
"I'll do what I can."
She reached around a third time, this time producing a little folded piece of blue lined paper. "This is what I got. We met the other night... see if you can't dig out another angle. Don't know much. He's new to town."
"What he push?"
"Painkillers, mostly. Mostly." Something caused a little grin which flew across her face as she turned; dreads parting and gathering like a beaded curtain in the twist of her narrow frame. Her mask had slipped aside; she frowned almost immediately as she got walking.
He grabbed her arm, stopped her, lifted a brow.
"What, yo?"
His brow lifted further, his gaze threatening to only probe further if she didn't cough.
"This disreputable... he some boyfriend of yours? Another one?"
"Gotta go."
He stared hard at her as she shook her arm free, gave him a bleak stare and sauntered out, putting on her shades. Ahead, the sun set behind the titans of junk and when she looked back, the oil-on-water effect of the mirrored shades reflected Bones in them; his looming form warped in the glass, reduced to a man small and concerned.
Behind Roach, the Pontiac charger, loaned from Kate for the trip out there, ticked away in the receding sun as skinny legs carried the dreadlocked blonde up the wind-blown dirt path and in through the gate as she tucked her round, mirrored aviators into her tank and stopped to peer up; the name of the yard formed of many off-casts of misfit metal. She grinned to herself some and continued on through the gate to weave through the piles of wheel-less cars, soulless trucks, ancient buses and even a blown-out taxi, to the small, squat office where her contact waited.
"Hey little lady!" From behind her; the most distinct voice she had ever known. Deep, resounding. She turned to find its owner just as her boot swung over the threshold and in through the door.
"Bones!" She walked straight up and gave him a fist bump which he evolved into a tight hug and a dust of his knuckles along the crown of her head. "Come on in, kid. Beer?"
"Yeah, sounds good. How have you been?"
"Eh, business is a bit slow. Off time of year. Your friend didn't come see me by the way, what was his name again? Roger?"
"Nope. Robbie. He's... uh... been out of town." Dropping into a chair she accepted the Red Orc from him and clinked hers against his as they threw the lids into the trash and drank in unison.
Bones leaned back into the table. The man was 6'3, with a shocking, often unruly mass of thick, white hair. His face was always a curious mix between kind and severe. She knew him to be the former but then the pills she had given him had done as assured and she'd never ripped the guy off. She knew severe lingered in the wings. Severe always could make an appearance. His method of dress was always the same; some sort of ragged tank or wife beater, baggy jeans or cargo's and a pair of army disposal combats. He kept a plain khaki military jacket hung on the back of the chair behind his crammed desk, but she was yet to see him ever don it. Even on the coolest evenings, when they'd made late for the trade, he'd appeared to her in a singlet of some variety.
"He like that Lugosi thing I sold ya? Man, sorry to part with that but he sounds like the kind who'd like it."
"Thinks he did" she replied with a casual shrug. "Hard to tell with him, mostly, what he like and what he don't like. He used it in his vampire exhibit so's I suppose I did good."
Bones chuckled at her and took another swig. "You bring the shiz?"
Roach sat forward and dug around in the back pocket of her jeans and held out the baggie. "Like you asked. Kate charged you less this time."
He lifted his brows. "I don't like favors, Roachie. You know this."
"Take it up with her, man. Not my biz. Said you're one of her better clients so's..."
He narrowed his eyes as he dug a slender finger into the bag to inspect the multicoloured pill, turning it around under his probing eye. He sniffed it and then threw the bag onto his keyboard.
"So, you said you had something to run by me?" The beer in the glass tinkled a few minor keys as he took another sip and watched her hard.
"Looks, trying to get something going. Networking, yeah?" She sighed and sat back into the squeaky chair and slid her boots forward so that her soles were up, heels rocked back against the leg of the chair. Another sip, as she paused over his question. "There's a few players might be good to get on the same team, as it were. I know, I know you like to play your own game from this end, keeping out of being bandit, but looks.. there's mutual gain here, for everyone."
"Kid, I don't do favors for a reason. And I don't play well with others. I don't have a need to go big."
"Bones, no one smart knocks back more money. Not if how it's done is safe. I'm not going into this proposal heavy handed and I'm not saying any of this without thought behind it."
"Kid..."
"Man, listen up. Kate, you, the Russi-"
"Zakone? No."
"Yo, listen to me."
"I am not doing time again, kid."
"Listen to me."
"No, Roachie, oi..." he sighed and placed down his beer and sat forward in his lean against the table. "The Zakone are not nothing. They are maximum sentences and missing fingers and that is the least of it.. I don't want any mafia bullshiz in my yard."
"The guy who leads out, he's a good guy. You know yourself, every gang, every group, has its off-shoot. I don't want to get too deep with people like that, but I kind of already am, man. And Vitaly, the guy I'm speaking about, he's a smart guy. He don't take stupid well and he don't bet on sore ponies."
Bones shot her a pointed look as he hulked over her, a smirk forming.
"Okay. Looks. I wasn't his choice. My boyfriend talked him into it."
The smirk continued to grow.
"Bones. Dude?"
He laughed; it boomed loudly and he waved at her fetching up his beer. "Playing, kid. But look... what kind of stuff can he get."
"Weapons. Pills. I brought it up to one of them the other night. Thinking, we gets a congo line going. Select few. Pool our contacts, double our clients, double the profit..."
"And how do you suppose we split it fairly?"
"I'm thinking on it."
"Hell, Roachie. I don't know. I'm leery as frakk about the Russians. How long you known em?"
"I've come to learn to be a little more damn discerning, yo. Okay? I'm telling you, guy wouldn't skint on you. He's a top fella. He's... he's not in a good way right now, but as likes, a little favor, figured I might get things going in his absence while he's in hospital."
"Why is he in hospital?"
"Because of the old crew I ran with. I don't want to get into it, man."
He looked down and shook his head to shift his ass back on the table pushing some piles of paper out of the way and a couple of ancient VHS tapes with scantily clad women on the front.
"I get what you're doing. It's not altogether a bad idea. But you start mixing too many elements, you might have some bang. I got a good situation here, between the parts, the antiques, the miscellaneous weird shiz I get donated and the shiz I peddle. I got stuff that could swing the wrong way if I step too hard; if the floor is weak and it all goes falling. I don't want to go back to prison, kid. I'm trying to keep things small."
"And you can. You totally, totally can, Bones. I'm not saying, you got to go out and get a name tag and join the frakking Zakone. It's just sharing some suppliers, clients, a chain people can depend on, instead of reaching out to lesser sorts for a need. That is dangerous. What I'm proposing is going to be monitored, going to be kept tight as a nun's pussy, yo. Kate don't got no interest in compromising the way she does shiz."
"I'll think about it."
"That's good enough. Text me."
He nodded and took another swig as she drained the bottle. She stood up, a hand reaching back around into her other back pocket, fishing out a few bills. "'Fore I go."
Bones stepped away from the table to walk her out when he paused to looked down at her. "Yeah, kid?"
"You still doing recon on your end of things?" The way she asked got his attention; almost like she was ashamed or really uncomfortable.
He nodded, his eyes sharpening.
The bills were folded once and pushed into his hand. "Johnny Lagos. Can you do a little look-see for me?"
"He threatened you, this got to do with the Crez deal?"
"Nope. Just... someone might be invited to that disco I'm talking about."
"I'll do what I can."
She reached around a third time, this time producing a little folded piece of blue lined paper. "This is what I got. We met the other night... see if you can't dig out another angle. Don't know much. He's new to town."
"What he push?"
"Painkillers, mostly. Mostly." Something caused a little grin which flew across her face as she turned; dreads parting and gathering like a beaded curtain in the twist of her narrow frame. Her mask had slipped aside; she frowned almost immediately as she got walking.
He grabbed her arm, stopped her, lifted a brow.
"What, yo?"
His brow lifted further, his gaze threatening to only probe further if she didn't cough.
"This disreputable... he some boyfriend of yours? Another one?"
"Gotta go."
He stared hard at her as she shook her arm free, gave him a bleak stare and sauntered out, putting on her shades. Ahead, the sun set behind the titans of junk and when she looked back, the oil-on-water effect of the mirrored shades reflected Bones in them; his looming form warped in the glass, reduced to a man small and concerned.