Damned characters
Once again, my characters didn't want me to finish today, and I only got through three of my bullet points. I've got nineteen more. Damned characters. And, although I'm only posting just over 1,300 words today, I also wrote the start of the next section, because I'm getting bored of this one. But here it is. Just the 1,300 for you, since I don't have the other on my flashdisk.
“Ooh, Mr. Suave, aren’t we?” She tips some into her mouth, and draws my lips to hers. It tastes nice. I decide, after the third kiss, that this is the only way to drink rum. We find a bottle of wine, and try that as well. Gin’s good too, and so’s whisky. Even beer tastes good, drinking it like this. Vodka, at least the type at my birthday party, just tastes of Julia’s lipstick, but that’s alright. After a few mouthfuls of that, though, it’s getting a little hard to walk in a straight line, so I just sit down, pull Julia on top of me - she’s wavering a little, too - and kiss her without the booze. She tastes just as good.
We do that for a while, then another, because we like it so much. And after that, we do it for another while. But eventually, she stands up off my lap and I stand up too. Almost straight.
“You want a coffee?”
“Hell yes. There’s none here, though.”
“There’s a coffee bar at work. Here, I’ll take you.”
“How far? James, are you planning to drive?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”
“Can you go really slow, James? I remember how much alcohol affected me when I was your age.”
I think for a bit, and come to the conclusion that this is a piece of information I didn’t know. How strange.
“How old are you, Julia?”
“I’m fourteen.”
“Well, I’m bigger than you, and I can drive, so long as I go slow.”
“If you say so…” She still sounds a little scared.
“You can have the helmet.”
“I’m worried about your head, too, stupid. Can we walk?”
“It’s too far. Don’t worry. What I’m drunk on right now is mostly you.” Julia snorts.
“OK then. But slowly.”
“Fair enough.” When we get back upstairs to the bike, she does grab the helmet, and I keep to the back streets, because there’s less traffic, and I can’t get spotted by a cop, driving without a helmet. Other than that, the drive to the warehouse is pretty boring. Apart, of course, from the natural adrenaline that comes from sitting on top of this machine. When we arrive, Julius is sitting in a chair behind the small bar, feet up on the table, holding a glass of something. He looks happy at the thought of company.
“Hey, James, happy birthday, man! Hey Julia, you caught a ride with him? Why would you want to come visit me?”
“I met her at the party. Can we have a coffee, bro?”
“Knock yourself out,” he says, happy and obviously having tried his hardest to do so himself.
“Don’t,” whispers Julia behind me, and I snort. I join Julius behind the bar and look up at Julia.
“What do you want? I can do you cappuccino, mochaccino, espresso, long and short blacks and whites, one two three or ten shots.”
“Can I have a mocha? Just one shot. Please.”
“Coming right up.” I get busy, making two mochaccinos, one shot in the first, three in the second. I had to concentrate way too hard on the ride over. I need the coffee. Julia’s looking at the guns, picking them up out of the holding area, turning them over and over, putting them back down. They’re tiny pistols today, curved for some reason.
“How d’you know Julia, Julius?”
“I’m her combat teacher. Guess I’ll be yours shortly, too. You gotta know how to fight.”
“Oh, OK, you’re teaching her knives, then? Julius… is she gonna be an enforcer?”
“No. I don’t think we’ve ever had a female enforcer, and she’s too small anyway. I reckon her forte’s gonna be forgery, forever. She’ll be a low-ranker unless she makes friends with someone higher-up.”
“Oh, good.”
“Worried, were you James? Eh, eh, eh?” He grins and nudges at me with his elbow. “Got something going on? Well, she did get on your bike with you, and you’ve had it all of twelve hours.”
“I didn’t tell her that.”
“Aha. She know you’re only thirteen?”
“Yep.” I raise my voice a little, and call to the object of our discussion. “Your coffee’s ready, c’mon.” She walks over, one of the little guns in each hand. She puts them on the bar.
“Thanks, James.” She picks it up and sips at it. I must have made it right, because she takes a bigger sip alost immediately afterwards. I sip my own, and it tastes strong.
“Hey Julius, what’re these guns for? Why are they curved?”
“Stealth pistols. We’re just running off a special batch now, only a hundred or so. We’re not selling these babies. If you’ve got one in your pocket, a frisk won’t find it.” Julia slips one into her hip pocket and pats it. I imagine running my hand down her side, and take a quick sip of coffee, to keep from saying anything. She pulls it back out.
“Reckon you can teach me how to fire one of these?”
“Later, maybe. For now you still need to work on your knives a bit.”
“Oh. Can I do them now? I want to show James.”
“Sure.” He stands up and winks at me so Julia can’t see. “I’ll draw a target on a wall or something…” He reaches a wall and pulls a knife from his pocket, and carves a series of circles on it, then measures ten paces back from it, and carves a line in the floor there. Julia goes over to him and he hands her the knife, and pulls two more from his pocket.
“Considering you’ve been drinking, try to hit the target once.” He sounds like a teacher, and I guess that’s what he is, really. Julia holds one of the knives by it’s tip, over her shoulder, staring at the target, lower lip tucked into her mouth. It’s a very pretty expression. She glances at me, then throws the knife, which spins end over end across the ten paces, and sticks in the wall about a foot to the left of the target.
“Don’t look at James. Look at the target.”
“Sorry.” She throws the next knife, and it sticks in the outer ring. The next knife hits the outer ring again, on the other side.
“Not bad, not bad… What d’you think, Joan?”
“I think I’m lucky I didn’t have to do that for my initiation.”
“Hah!” says Julia, who looked disappointed at her last throw. “You wanna go?”
“Sure, OK.” Julius makes another mark on the floor, five paces from the target. When I protest, he says, “You’re my student now, you do as I tell you, and you start from five paces.” I back down, and he gives me a quick lesson in knife throwing, which is all about weight and balance and aim. Apparently the blades of the knives are exactly as heavy as the hilts. He hands them to me.
“Alright, James, have a shot.” He backs away. I cock a knife over my shoulder, stare at the target, try to point my elbow at it, and throw the knife, hilt-first, into the floor.
“Watch your release time.” The next knife hits the wall three metres from the target side-on and bounces off.
“Watch your aim. It needed a little more spin, too.” The final knife sticks, but since I was thinking about not releasing too late, where it sticks is two metres up from the target. “Watch your…” whispers Julia, just loud enough to hear.
“Watch your release time!” Julia giggles. I walk back to the bar and have another shot at my coffee, and grin at Julia. “Thou art greatly skilled, madam.”
“Thou art not, kind sir.”
“Too true, that.” She picks up her coffee as well, and sips some more. Maybe I made it too hot.
Not too amazing, but I'm tired. I now have 33,986 words.
“Ooh, Mr. Suave, aren’t we?” She tips some into her mouth, and draws my lips to hers. It tastes nice. I decide, after the third kiss, that this is the only way to drink rum. We find a bottle of wine, and try that as well. Gin’s good too, and so’s whisky. Even beer tastes good, drinking it like this. Vodka, at least the type at my birthday party, just tastes of Julia’s lipstick, but that’s alright. After a few mouthfuls of that, though, it’s getting a little hard to walk in a straight line, so I just sit down, pull Julia on top of me - she’s wavering a little, too - and kiss her without the booze. She tastes just as good.
We do that for a while, then another, because we like it so much. And after that, we do it for another while. But eventually, she stands up off my lap and I stand up too. Almost straight.
“You want a coffee?”
“Hell yes. There’s none here, though.”
“There’s a coffee bar at work. Here, I’ll take you.”
“How far? James, are you planning to drive?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”
“Can you go really slow, James? I remember how much alcohol affected me when I was your age.”
I think for a bit, and come to the conclusion that this is a piece of information I didn’t know. How strange.
“How old are you, Julia?”
“I’m fourteen.”
“Well, I’m bigger than you, and I can drive, so long as I go slow.”
“If you say so…” She still sounds a little scared.
“You can have the helmet.”
“I’m worried about your head, too, stupid. Can we walk?”
“It’s too far. Don’t worry. What I’m drunk on right now is mostly you.” Julia snorts.
“OK then. But slowly.”
“Fair enough.” When we get back upstairs to the bike, she does grab the helmet, and I keep to the back streets, because there’s less traffic, and I can’t get spotted by a cop, driving without a helmet. Other than that, the drive to the warehouse is pretty boring. Apart, of course, from the natural adrenaline that comes from sitting on top of this machine. When we arrive, Julius is sitting in a chair behind the small bar, feet up on the table, holding a glass of something. He looks happy at the thought of company.
“Hey, James, happy birthday, man! Hey Julia, you caught a ride with him? Why would you want to come visit me?”
“I met her at the party. Can we have a coffee, bro?”
“Knock yourself out,” he says, happy and obviously having tried his hardest to do so himself.
“Don’t,” whispers Julia behind me, and I snort. I join Julius behind the bar and look up at Julia.
“What do you want? I can do you cappuccino, mochaccino, espresso, long and short blacks and whites, one two three or ten shots.”
“Can I have a mocha? Just one shot. Please.”
“Coming right up.” I get busy, making two mochaccinos, one shot in the first, three in the second. I had to concentrate way too hard on the ride over. I need the coffee. Julia’s looking at the guns, picking them up out of the holding area, turning them over and over, putting them back down. They’re tiny pistols today, curved for some reason.
“How d’you know Julia, Julius?”
“I’m her combat teacher. Guess I’ll be yours shortly, too. You gotta know how to fight.”
“Oh, OK, you’re teaching her knives, then? Julius… is she gonna be an enforcer?”
“No. I don’t think we’ve ever had a female enforcer, and she’s too small anyway. I reckon her forte’s gonna be forgery, forever. She’ll be a low-ranker unless she makes friends with someone higher-up.”
“Oh, good.”
“Worried, were you James? Eh, eh, eh?” He grins and nudges at me with his elbow. “Got something going on? Well, she did get on your bike with you, and you’ve had it all of twelve hours.”
“I didn’t tell her that.”
“Aha. She know you’re only thirteen?”
“Yep.” I raise my voice a little, and call to the object of our discussion. “Your coffee’s ready, c’mon.” She walks over, one of the little guns in each hand. She puts them on the bar.
“Thanks, James.” She picks it up and sips at it. I must have made it right, because she takes a bigger sip alost immediately afterwards. I sip my own, and it tastes strong.
“Hey Julius, what’re these guns for? Why are they curved?”
“Stealth pistols. We’re just running off a special batch now, only a hundred or so. We’re not selling these babies. If you’ve got one in your pocket, a frisk won’t find it.” Julia slips one into her hip pocket and pats it. I imagine running my hand down her side, and take a quick sip of coffee, to keep from saying anything. She pulls it back out.
“Reckon you can teach me how to fire one of these?”
“Later, maybe. For now you still need to work on your knives a bit.”
“Oh. Can I do them now? I want to show James.”
“Sure.” He stands up and winks at me so Julia can’t see. “I’ll draw a target on a wall or something…” He reaches a wall and pulls a knife from his pocket, and carves a series of circles on it, then measures ten paces back from it, and carves a line in the floor there. Julia goes over to him and he hands her the knife, and pulls two more from his pocket.
“Considering you’ve been drinking, try to hit the target once.” He sounds like a teacher, and I guess that’s what he is, really. Julia holds one of the knives by it’s tip, over her shoulder, staring at the target, lower lip tucked into her mouth. It’s a very pretty expression. She glances at me, then throws the knife, which spins end over end across the ten paces, and sticks in the wall about a foot to the left of the target.
“Don’t look at James. Look at the target.”
“Sorry.” She throws the next knife, and it sticks in the outer ring. The next knife hits the outer ring again, on the other side.
“Not bad, not bad… What d’you think, Joan?”
“I think I’m lucky I didn’t have to do that for my initiation.”
“Hah!” says Julia, who looked disappointed at her last throw. “You wanna go?”
“Sure, OK.” Julius makes another mark on the floor, five paces from the target. When I protest, he says, “You’re my student now, you do as I tell you, and you start from five paces.” I back down, and he gives me a quick lesson in knife throwing, which is all about weight and balance and aim. Apparently the blades of the knives are exactly as heavy as the hilts. He hands them to me.
“Alright, James, have a shot.” He backs away. I cock a knife over my shoulder, stare at the target, try to point my elbow at it, and throw the knife, hilt-first, into the floor.
“Watch your release time.” The next knife hits the wall three metres from the target side-on and bounces off.
“Watch your aim. It needed a little more spin, too.” The final knife sticks, but since I was thinking about not releasing too late, where it sticks is two metres up from the target. “Watch your…” whispers Julia, just loud enough to hear.
“Watch your release time!” Julia giggles. I walk back to the bar and have another shot at my coffee, and grin at Julia. “Thou art greatly skilled, madam.”
“Thou art not, kind sir.”
“Too true, that.” She picks up her coffee as well, and sips some more. Maybe I made it too hot.
Not too amazing, but I'm tired. I now have 33,986 words.