#FF0000 ">This is a sequel to one of my other posts, The Last Hunt. It's not finished, but anyway...
Golden Boy
In the darkest, most obscured part of the busy night club Kammal sat, watching his target. It was just a boy – he hadn’t even reached manhood yet. He was chatting up some girl, completely oblivious about what was going to happen to him. In his boredom, Kammal rolled himself a joint, keeping his eyes on the young lad. Even from across the extensive room, with the loud music playing and people chatting, Kammal could hear every word the boy said.
“Can I buy you a drink, or would you prefer the money?” The kid spoke the amateur line like a pro, and the blonde chick giggled.
Kammal produced a metallic purple lighter from the pocket of his jeans, lit the joint and took a long drag.
“A drink sounds great.”
The bar tender automatically started pouring a drink. So the kid came here regularly to pick up chicks.
Kammal realized that the chick must’ve found the kid attractive, and hey, who wouldn’t? He was almost six foot tall with impressively well-toned pecs under his tight black t-shirt. His skin was exactly the same shade as Kammal’s; they were both descendants of Native Americans. They could’ve even looked related if it weren’t for the fact that Kammal’s nose had been broken six too many times whereas the kids facial features were perfect. The kid clearly had white blood relatives because he had brown hair with a hint of red and his nose was not so broad and flat, his eyes not so almond shaped.
“The name’s Daine.” Daine – if that was his real name – smiled charmingly.
“I’m Jess.” The chick twirled a strand of her flowing blonde hair between her fingers then took a sip of the drink the barman had set in front of her. She seemed to like it.
“Jess, short for Jessica?”
“Yeah.”
Dark, swirling smoke poured out of Kammal’s nose as he exhaled and an unbeatable calm spread through him. A waitress shot him a glance as she collected the empty glasses from a nearby booth but was too timid to confront the heavily-built man.
“Jess,” Daine said very seriously, making the importance of each word weigh a ton. “Did you know your name is Hebrew and means God sees?”
“Wow,” Jess said, genuinely surprised. “No, I didn’t know that.”
Daine grinned, eliminating all trace of seriousness. “And for once in my life I’m not talking out my ass.”
Jess covered her mouth to giggle and Daine’s smile grew.
“Are you board?”
What a stupid question, Kammal thought. People don’t laugh when they’re bored.
“No,” Jess was just as perplexed as Kammal. “Why?”
“’Cos I wanna nail you.”
Again, she giggled. “You’re one of those guys, aren’t you?”
“What guys?” Daine sat a little straighter, paying more attention to what Jess was saying.
“You know, the golden boy in high school, played on the school football team, dated all the cheerleaders, got other people to do all your homework assignments... I bet you had everything you wanted.”
“Well, yeah,” the kid admitted. “I had everything apart from a girl like you, so how ‘bout it?”
Jess giggled, nudging him playfully. “Buy me another drink and we’ll see.”
Daine pretended to be hurt. “I’m not that ugly, am I?”
“No, but a real gentleman would buy me the most expensive drink available.”
She was testing him. He was about to pass with flying colours. Daine kept his eyes on Jess as he spoke to the bar tender, his permanent grin unwavering. “Give my good friend here the most expensive drink you’ve got.”
The bar tender was surprised by the request but served him it anyway and Daine gave him the shocking amount of money that was asked for. Jess, quite stunned that this stranger had spent so much on her, downed the drink in one go.
“I heard sex is a killer,” the kid grinned. “Wanna die happy?”
“You bet.”
They stood to leave, so did Kammal. He slipped on his leather jacket and grabbed his motorbike helmet, dropping a fifty on the table to cover the drink he hadn’t touched plus a generous tip. He knew he hadn’t been a hospitable customer.
Weaving through the crowd, he followed them at a careful distance. Not them. Just him. The boy, the one who didn’t know what was in stall for him. Kammal grimaced at the thought of what might happen to the girl in the process. Oh well, one more victim to add to the long list. No, Kammal thought. I can’t let that happen, not again. He could warn them, but they wouldn’t believe him, not a chance in hell.
The crowd surged around him, full of people dancing and people standing in clumps, talking and drinking and laughing and not worrying about the kid like they should and not knowing a thing about the stuff Kammal deals with and just having a great time. A great time... it echoed around Kammal’s mind without meaning. When did he last have a great time? Could great time’s even exist for him?
“Kammal Bradie, you son of a bitch!” called a heavy Texan accent over the music of the club. A rotund, red-faced man wearing a drunken grin was pushing through the crowd towards him, but Kammal didn’t have time to stop for a chat. He slipped out the door, onto the rain-washed streets. He looked left, right. No sign of the kid. Shit.
The egotistical roar of a motorbike echoed down the street and to the left a bike spun around the corner and whizzed right past Kammal, the driver wearing familiar leather pants and the passenger’s long blonde hair streaming out from underneath her hot pink helmet. The man with the female passenger disappeared around another corner. Not the man - the kid.
Kammal bolted to his convertible, flinging himself over the door into the cramped space that was the driver’s seat. Why did I buy this piece of crap? Sure, it looked pretty damn sweet when he was zigzagging through the city traffic, hood down, music up, but it was so impractical for his line of work.
Before he had time to shove the keys in the ignition, two pairs of hands grabbed him from behind and the door grazed along his back as they dragged him out of his car. “What the fu-” wham. A fist connected with his face. Wham. In his guts. Wham. In his balls. Ouch.
One eye squeezed shut from the blow, Kammal made out the blurry outline of three or more men standing around him while he lay groaning on the damp tarmac. Why does this always happen to me? He thought through the pain. The biggest man grabbed him and threw him onto the hood of his own friggen convertible, pinning him there.
Now that they’d lost the element of surprise Kammal stood a better chance. He brought his knee up sharply, catching the guy in the crotch. The other men didn’t like that. Not at all. They flung him back to the ground and pummelled him some more.
“What do ya want?” Kammal groaned when they were done.
“Carlos wants his money, Kammal. He wants it real bad. Did you think if ya just laid low for a few years he’d forget?”
“’Course not,” Kammal spat a tooth onto the road. “Carlos never forgets.”
“Damn straight he doesn’t. Now where’s the money?”
“I’ll get it to ya, I swear. Just lemme go.”
“Ha! Do you think I’ma idiot? You’re not getting away this time.”
The guy Kammal vaguely remembered as Ricco – cousin/nephew/close friend of Carlos – slammed his heel onto Kammal’s face, smashing his nose. IT’S ALWAYS THE FRIGGEN NOSE! A red haze edged at Kammal’s vision but he kept his cool just enough to stay human. He’d had plenty time to practice that over the last three years.
Kammal pressed his hands palms down on the cold ground either side of him and lifted his body slightly off the ground so he could swiftly spin his leg around to trip Ricco and any of his cronies that were in a meter radius. Ricco and another guy were on the ground but uninjured, they were getting to their feet while two more advanced.
Kammal leapt to his feet. He didn’t have time for this. That kid was about to change any second now and Kammal had to be there.
