Chapter Two
Jason growled to himself as he strode to his car, shoving his way through a gaggle of teenagers that found themselves in his path and ignoring the complaints they aimed at his back as he stormed on. He had been stupid, not bringing any kind of insurance when he was hassling the girl. She had been stupid, not giving up when she knew damned well she couldn't get away. That punk with the section of plumbing had been stupid, just for turning up when he did. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And now, just to crown his day, he had to drive all the way across town to some shoddy motel to get his balls busted. He knew that he would probably be missing the two hundred in his wallet before the day was out; that grated on his nerves worst of all.
The drive to the motel was a long one, mostly because of traffic, but he didn't see most of it glaring at the road in front of him the way he was. He swore at a few tailgaters, made a rude gesture or two at select pedestrians and almost felt better by the time he pulled into the parking garage a few blocks from his destination. It didn't last. Walking across the sparsely occupied parking lot of the old motel, he felt the pit in his stomach widening and his courage sliding into its maw. It took a concerted effort to climb the creaking metal stairs to the second floor and a near-Herculean one to knock on the door of room sixteen.
He flinched as the faded green door opened inward, a wide-shouldered silhouette filling the frame in its absence. "Jason. Come in."
Jason swallowed, squeezing against the wall's yellowed paint to circumvent the giant as it closed the door behind him. "Thanks. How've you been, Ty?"
The big man placed one of his frying-pan hands on Jason's shoulder, eliciting a small squeak from his guest. "Same as the last time I saw you, a couple days ago. Step into my office."
Jason felt himself being steered along, his host's bass tones still echoing in his throat. With a light push from his host, he found himself seated. Which was for the best, really, since his legs would not stop shaking. "So... good, then?"
The giant sat opposite him. His desk was a comically tiny thing; it seemed to come up to no higher than his waist. Even the window set into the wall behind his desk was barely noticeable around his massive torso, with only the hint of a cool breeze making it around the veritable landmass that now sat opposite Jason. Glancing at Jason, he idly straightened some papers on his desk. "That depends on what you've come to tell me, now doesn't it?"
Jason could feel the sweat crawling down his back; he would have been nervous, had he had to tell anyone what he was here to say. The fact that he had to say it to this particular man made it worse. Tyrone Burgess was, in a word, intimidating. It wasn't the way he kept his face and head completely clean-shaven, or the way those stern, brown eyes could pin you like a butterfly. No, the reason was far simpler; the man was enormous. Coming up on eight feet tall, his shoulders scraped either side of a doorway when he passed through one. The rippling muscles under his dark satin skin reinforced what you already knew; this was not a man you wanted angry with you, not if he worked on the shady side of the law. And Tyrone had a history of doing just that.
Jason swallowed again, a lump already formed in his throat. "Well... I scared the girl pretty good, Ty."
The man smiled, flashing white teeth. "Good. She’s spending a little time in the hospital, then?"
"Uh, well, no, not exactly." He flinched as Tyrone's expression hardened. "But she had help! Some punk kid turned up with a piece of steel piping, the hell was I supposed to do, get my head busted in?"
Tyrone sighed; a long, deep sound reminiscent of a dry wind echoing in the bowels of an empty well. "So she's not hurt, she walked away with her rescuer and, instead of busting up their little fairy tale, you came crawling back here. That about right, Jason?"
Jason swallowed, his throat scraping as he found himself parched. "Y-yes... but Tyrone..." He stopped as the big man held up a hand.
"Before you start spilling your guts trying to get me to let you off, don't. It would only insult me. Do you know why that is, Jason?"
"No, I don't. Uh, Sir."
"It's because I'm not like you. When I send someone like you to handle something, I don't send him alone. Do you know why that is, Jason?"
Jason felt some part of him raising rancour at the big man's condescension, but he hastily squashed it down. "No Sir, I don't."
"To put it bluntly, it's because you're an amateur. So the one I'm mad at, right now, is the man who was supposed to be there to make sure you did the job right."
Jason felt the tiniest ray of hope enter his thoughts; he might just make it out of the room without needing a cast. "So... I'm off the hook?"
Tyrone chuckled ominously, the rumblings in his chest causing his desk to vibrate. "No. Not yet. First, you're going to help me find the man. I don't appreciate it when my business partners fail to hold up their end of a deal."
Jason felt his hopes turn to lead and drop into his gut. "Oh... I mean, of course. Where do I go, then?"
"Right back where you started. Last I heard from him, he had been setting up on a rooftop where he could see the spot you were supposed to meet the lady at. He goes by Mr. Black, but I doubt it's his real name. It doesn't matter, a man can't just disappear. He leaves a trail. I've got some friends looking around for it right now, but you're going to go lend them an extra pair of eyes. You get me?"
Jason nodded hastily. "Yes Sir, I get you, loud and clear. I'll head over there right now."
Tyrone waved his assurances aside without so much as a glance, already turning his attention to the paperwork on his desk. "Get your lips off of my ass, Jason. Move."