“You are preaching to the choir,” he replied. “I feel pretty much the same way, but my wife Willow is creative at heart. My heart is lighter getting her these items because I know she will use them well.”
“Come to the back and let me show you what I have,” she said, leading him in the storeroom right off the main sales floor. The bolts of fabric were bright in color, festive and perfect as far as he was concerned.
“These are amazing. How much for the lot?”
“I’m going to throw in three if you buy three,” she said, pointing at a bolt of white fabric covered in rainbows. The lady opened the Fabric to reveal a giant unicorn in the center of the panel.
Raphael’s mouth fell open in appreciation. He found himself chuckling at the thought of Karli seeing the material. She was going to love it.
“This, I’m throwing in as well,” she said with a wink.
Twenty minutes had passed by the time he did an additional walkthrough, made the final purchases, and was ready to load up.
“Before we load up, let me grab a coffee, and then once loaded I can head out,” he said, offering her a smile.
“No problem,” she said, bagging up the notions, patterns, and smaller items he’d purchased. Mr. Hoyt spent another grand in total, bringing his full purchase up to nearly 10 Gs. She would make him a cup of coffee, force herself to lactate for the milk, and anything else, if he wanted.
“Be right back,” he said, still wearing his suit jacket.
Out the front door and down the sidewalk he went, coming through the coffee shop door. A similar banter between a different barista from yesterday and a different young woman at the counter occurred, as he placed his order for a decaf Americano, and two cookies. The watch chimed three minutes after three and Wallace Grummitt made his way to the bathroom as Raphael placed his order.
Taking his number and finding several people in line ahead of him, Raphael made his way to the bathroom. The same scent filled the room, which worked in his favor. No one wanted to relieve themselves in a bathroom that smelled like a cattle truck had parked next to the sink.
“Wallace?” he said softly.
“Yes, who’s there? I’m sorry. I need to do a courtesy flush,” Wallace replied.
“Your employers are aware of what you’ve been doing and are terminating your employment,” Mr. Exit said.
“Hold on, hold on a minute there,” Wallace said, scuffling as if he were deciding if he should wipe, flush, or get off the shitter.
“Your chance to do the right thing has expired. The waiting is over, Mr. Grummitt,” Raphael said, marching into the adjacent stall. He stepped up on the toilet seat, looked over the stall, pointed the weapon down at Wallace Grummitt, and pulled the trigger. He climbed down, careful to keep his shoes dry, flushed the commode, and washed his hands.
Raphael left the bathroom as his number was being called for his order, which he picked up, offered a thanks, threw a tip in the jar, and then exited the side door. He strolled with ease to the sewing shop, stopping to unlock the truck and remove his jacket, tie and gun holster. The holster was placed in the floor compartment and the seats were flattened to accommodate the new machine and fabric.
“Okay, I brought you cookies,” he told the sweet lady in the sewing shop. Together they loaded his SUV, and he offered a sincere thank you, sliding behind the wheel. Aiming the nose at the 485 southbound towards Spartanburg South Carolina where he began the drive to meet The Mann.
RAPHAEL DROVE IN SILENCE, his thoughts louder than any physical body or headless voice to blare through the radio. Internally, he felt a sort of nervousness about meeting The Mann since few people knew anything about him. He wanted to add that to his list of conversation points, that the members of Beauty’s Crew didn’t know each other. The thoughts were broken by the ringing of his phone.
He tapped the screen for the unlisted number, “Mr. Exit.”
“Nicely done.” the male voice said, “Where are you?”
“Just crossed over into South Carolina,” he replied, not explaining where in South Carolina he was.
“Got an issue that has arisen in Greenville. Needs to look like an accident,” the male voice said.
Raphael quickly said, “Accidents are done by Falling Rocks.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I thought that you might want to pick up a little extra on the way home,” the familiar male voice said.
“I’m good,” Raphael stated. Waiting on the quietness in the phone line to come to an end as it usually did.
“Hmm, interested in being the Devil and heading down to Georgia?” the male voice asked.
“Not really, why?”
“Got male kiddie diddler in charge of a boxing program in Dunwoody. His employer wants a couple of drops of never again placed in the old man’s electrolyte bottle,” the male voice said.
“Again, it’s not my thing to Merge into someone else’s lane. You need the right guy for the job,” Raphael said.
“Hey, just checking,” the voice said. “Payment sent to your account.”
“Have a good evening,” Raphael said, ending the call, thinking that was weird. The voice on the line knew all of the Technicians. All of the Technicians worked for the voice on the line. He personally reported to the voice and not Beauty like the others. It didn’t feel right.
An hour later, it still didn’t feel right. The Cleaner being taken out of play in a very wrong way, now he was being asked to do a Merge and Falling Rocks job. He didn’t like it at all. In his line of work, coincidences didn’t just happen. The universe had to align in order for the stars to shine on his street. He mulled it over a bit more, adding more items to his list to discuss with The Mann.
Just when he was ready to relieve his bladder, he entered Owltown, a hop and skip away from Blairsville. The sun was starting to set as he made his way up the mountain, passing a half rusted blue mailbox which read Neary, making Raphael do a double take. Continuing the climb, he almost passed the driveway, noticing the red dot on the GPS had come to a stop. Backing up, he came to the gate, and thinking better of climbing out to open it himself, he dialed the number.
“This is The Mann.”
“Mr. Exit is at the gate,” he replied. He heard a series of clicks and buzzes as the gate slowly opened.
“Stay on the path and drive to the house. I’ll meet you at the porch,” Mann told him.
“Roger that,” Raphael said, disconnecting the call and driving on the hardened clay drive intermittent with gravel. He looked down at the roadway noticing specks along the side of the driveway were actually metal barbs. “Shit, those will tear the hell out of a tire.”
The slower he drove, the more he noticed the booby traps along the property. Raphael pulled around the curve to see a cabin he wasn’t expecting. The front looked simple enough, with several modern additions added and a porch that seemed to wrap around the house. He parked the vehicle, opening the door slowly and stepping out with his arms raised. In slow motion, he turned showing his front and sides and pulled up his pants legs.
“You’re dramatic as hell, aren’t ya?” Mann said, watching him move.
“Well, I don’t want any misunderstandings,” Raphael replied. “I have to get my notebook, and I brought a bottle of wine for you and the Missus.”