Two more of the Butcher’s men leapt from their perch, coming to the side of the man that started the altercation. “Whatchu plannin’ to do?” One of the men patted the side of a burly AK-47.
Thomas stopped dead in his tracks and put his hands up. “I don’t want any trouble.” He was unarmed and clearly outgunned. Even if he had his normal complement of firearms, he would’ve been at a disadvantage. He gritted his teeth, knowing there was no use in pushing the issue. No matter how badly he knew it was the right thing to do, he had to let it go.
“Man, sit yo’ ass down.” The rest of his cohorts laughed uncontrollably. “Go on!” He shooed Thomas with both hands, trying his best to embarrass him.
All Thomas could do was turn away. He knew starting something he possessed no chance of winning served without purpose. Hoping that if he left without pushing the matter further, he could simply integrate himself into the crowd and vanish from their radar.
“That’s what I thought.” The men roared with laughter once again and traipsed back toward the gazebo. They clanged together a few bottles of beer and resumed their conversation.
That guy’s trouble. Thomas glanced back over his shoulder once or twice to ensure they no longer posed a threat—only the man with the AK maintained his watch over Thomas while he threaded his way into the crowd. If he didn’t have that damn AK… Wonder how many more of those they got. Definitely a good thing we came in here—good to know they’ll have some serious fire power when we hit it.
He found James in a familiar position, a curl of people wrapped around him, taking to his wild stories. A couple of women entangled themselves in the arms of two of the men listening—faking their enjoyment. It was only because they had to that they acted this way. Their entire performance given for the worst audience of all.
“Find anything you like yet?” A stranger’s voice shot up as the woman that hung on him plunged her hand down the front of his pants. “Feisty! Just like I like it.” He slapped the woman on the ass, and she shrieked.
“I’m seeing plenty.” James played along, his eyes giving the woman an alluring once over.
“He ain’t got no way to pay for all this,” a brunette woman said. She winked at James, took her hand from the man’s pants, and plopped her backside into James. She leaned forward and gyrated herself further and further back, almost knocking him to the ground.
Thomas caught the grin on James’s face—his eyes fixated on her waistline—the woman seemingly with no intention of letting up. When James finally broke his gaze, Thomas was able to gain his attention and signaled for him to come over. James nodded.
“Who wants to earn some chits?” James took them out and began counting them in his hand.
The woman shot up and spun around. “Oh, please. What do you like?”
“Either of us will do, or both of us if you’d like it that way,” the other woman chimed in, ensuring she wouldn’t be forgotten when the chits exchanged hands.
“Meh, you two aren’t my type.” James chortled. “I’ll find one that better suits my needs.” He turned from them and made his way toward Thomas.
“I can do whatever you want!” the brunette called to him. “Both of us can!”
“What’s up, man?” James asked.
“The big guy in the middle—you check him?” Thomas rubbed along his mouth and chin, keeping his voice discreet. “The one with the girl hiding in his chest.”
James turned to see who he meant. “Well…” James seemed uncomfortable. “The thing about that guy. I—“
Thomas gave him a stiff look.
“He doesn’t look the type. There’s no scar, man.”
“Wasn’t sure if there could be an exception,” Thomas offered.
“No one’s treated him any different than anyone else. Maybe he’s the strong, sensitive type—maybe he’s paying her to cuddle with him.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I’m not buying it. Did you check him or not?”
“I got close enough not to be killed. He ain’t one of them. I’m positive. Just another guy, trying to get whatever it is he needs from this place.”
“How certain are you?” Thomas pressed him.
“Bullets will still go through him if he’s here after sundown. It’s not the end of the world if we miss one from the count.” He scanned the crowd. “My biggest concern is that AK. You see that?”
“Couldn’t miss it. It looks like he can handle it too.”
James nodded.
“Doesn’t seem like they’re formally trained,” Thomas said, “but they may be able to handle themselves. In the meantime, keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t do anything that might draw attention to yourself.”
“Alright.”
Thomas walked along the curb, hunks of mud scraped from the bottoms of boots hung from them like a well-used welcome mat. This crowd is definitely larger than yesterday. I bet this place just grows as more people catch wind of it. Where the hell are these people coming from? His thoughts continued to drift. A few women may have said something as he passed by the rustling tents—past the quiet banter and sensual moans that came from inside.
“What’s your story?” A woman, raven-haired with rugged beauty, reached out, pulling Thomas’s hand into her own. She began stroking his palm with her fingertip. “Care to share?”
“Not really.” He could see how some men got carried away with this. She was pretty and had that effect of a woman. Her soft voice could make a man feel important and needed for something much more primal than their usual responsibilities.
Thomas knew she didn’t care what his story was—that she would forget anything he told her the second he left. He needed to pull his hand free—Mission first—but the slide of her fingertip along the ridges of his hands prevented it. It felt good to be wanted, desired, even if he knew deep down that it was all a farce. He felt himself falling into this trap. Play along. Maybe she’ll prove useful in other ways.
“How much?” Thomas wasn’t sure that it was an act at this point, his lower half beginning to get the better of him. He bit his lip, but quickly released it.
“How much you got?” She leaned back, causing him to snap hold of her to prevent her from falling. “Those strong hands could hold a lot of chits—a lot of quality time.”
“You like to play games, huh?” Thomas bent an awkward smile to her. “I’m not falling for that. What’s your time worth?”
“I can’t tell you what my time’s worth if I don’t know what you’re wanting to do.”
“Let’s start with talking.”
“Then let’s start with a chit.” She smiled.
Thomas hesitated. He took his hand from hers, slipped it into his pocket, and shuffled the chits between his fingers. “Will this do?” A chit rested in his palm.
“You’re focusing on the wrong things right now.” She pulled her elbows in toward each other, pushing her breasts up and in. Thomas couldn’t help himself but look. “There we go,” she said, as the chit slid from his hand.
“This one yours?” He pointed to the red and gray tent behind them.
Retaking his hand, she pulled him toward it. “It’s yours now.”
She unzipped the door and pulled it to the side, wafting an overwhelming plume of floral perfume from inside—an obvious attempt to mask the underlying foulness. The stench straightened Thomas up before he poked his head into the slumping tent. Cautious—his feet mindful of the filth wrapped in a heap of blankets and pillows. Plastic shells of water bottles littered the back. A few crusted bowls. He sighed. A creeping sense of indecency rose from the nylon floor of the tent and along his spine as he finally placed both feet inside. The woman followed. She let the door drop back into place, and the rolling sound of the zipper sealed them inside.