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gaperezmakes · 6 years

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Rebirth - Swift Part III

Swift looked out the diner window coldly. It was an old-fashioned place with a black-and-white tile floor, white walls with faded pastel blue and pink stripes zig-zagging across them. It was a fairly busy establishment, with patrons filling up almost all of the cracked pleather seats. They had obviously been reupholstered several times now, but the owners had given up on trying to maintain them. Normally Swift would have come here to people-watch, but today was different. Today he had a mission.

A waitress came up to the booth and asked if he was ready to order. He forced a smile, nodded, and told her his usual order. As she left, Swift turned back and kept looking out the window. His frown intensified. Someone else was not sharing his sense of urgency today.

“Someone sittin’ here?” Swift looked over and saw a small, pudgy man standing just outside of his booth.

“You should know the answer to that question,” Swift responded with no humor in his voice. The man’s eyes widened and he took a seat across from Swift. “You’re late, Carson.”

“The Don himself had a job for me. There was an uppity flower shop that didn’t want to pay for its protection.” Carson waved the waitress over and ordered a coffee to start with.

“I don’t want to hear about it,” Swift shook his head, “Easier for me to stay ignorant of your plans so they can’t get anything out of me whenever London targets me.”

“Fair enough,” Carson locked his fingers together, “So what are you looking for?”

“I’m calling in a favor,” Swift’s response surprised Carson, “I need information.”

“You need information? What happened to your guy?”

“Shot and hospitalized right now.” Swift rubbed his forehead, “And Phonic is dead.”

“Phonic? The kid?” Swift nodded slowly. “That’s a damn shame. He was so smart.”

“I know. He only had a few more months of school before he was eligible to test for his ILD.” The waitress came back and put down his plate of hashbrowns and eggs, and Carson’s mug of coffee. She asked Carson for his order, and he responded by asking for a simple plate of pancakes. “He’d still be alive if we didn’t get bad intel.”

“Swift, I’m shook,” Carson shook his head and put a hand on his chest, “You think we gave Rock some bad intel?”

“I never said that, Carson,” Swift’s glare bore into the man, “But someone did, and I want to find out who.”

“Alright, alright, calm down.” Carson went back to his coffee, “The family owes you a favor--several actually--and I’m sure that the Don, reasonable man he is, will see that this is a fair exchange of favors.” Carson waved down the waitress again and asked if she had a paper and pen he could use. She came back a minute later with both the pen and paper, and a plate of three thick pancakes. Carson clapped his hands together like a giddy child, “I love the pancakes in this place. Have you tried ‘em before? Best pancakes in all of Capital City.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s easy for them to make you the best pancakes.” Swift’s humor was never too far away from him.

“Nah, we don’t ever shake this place down. It’s a safe haven.” Carson poured syrup on top of each pancake in the stack, “It sits on a lot of our borders. Not worth it for any of us to get into a war with the others over.” He looked up at Swift, “So, you want information, I need details. Who else are you callin’ in a favor with?”

“I’ve got a large network and am calling in as many favors as I got,” Swift responded dryly, “You want me to waste your time and list them all off?”

“Look, I don’t want to waste my time neither. But if I know that you’re already calling in the Machelli family for information, then I don’t have to ask them anything myself.”

“I don’t think Machelli or his goons would know anything about it. We hit somewhere in the Trick gang’s territory.”

“Trick? Who’d be stupid enough to try and work under their noses?”

“Who else? The Iblanites.”

“Shit,” Carson dropped his pen and leaned back in his seat, “You’re telling me they shot Rock and Phonic? My friend, I don’t know how many favors you have to call in, but there aren’t enough in the world to get you any dirt on those sons of bitches.”

“You don’t think I don’t know that?” Swift slammed a fist on the table, bringing more attention to the two of them than needed. Carson motioned for him to calm down and Swift sighed angrily as he waited to continue. “Look, Carson, I know trying to get anything about the Iblanites is damn near impossible, but I can’t not try.”

“And of course they wanted to do work in Trick turf.” Carson rubbed his forehead, “You know the Bavrati family and the Trick gang have been at odds for decades now.”

“I figured you could get a hold of one of them easier than I can. They aren’t ‘favor’ people.”

“I know how much you like your favors.” Carson took a bite of his pancakes, “Well, I’m sure the Don will be reasonable with your request, but I’ve gotta tell you, this is probably gonna cost you more than one favor.”

“I’m aware of that, Carson. But I’ve been doing a good job at keeping other people out of your turf, so I’m sure I’ve got a few to spare.”

“Well, it’s more than that, Swifty.” Carson looked around to make sure nobody was listening. He then leaned in on the table, and Swift joined him. “He might want you to turn a blind eye if we make a move to expand. You understand that?”

Swift frowned, “You know I don’t like that option. You make one wrong move and all hell breaks loose, there will be a lot of innocent people dead on the streets.” He sat back and crossed his arms, “But if you just happen to see a weak point in Trick territory, then you might find me helping to keep them out.”

“Really now?” Carson sat back and nodded his head, “Is that a promise?”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

Carson took another bite, “The Don will appreciate a tip like that. I’m sure we can work something mutually beneficial out.” The two enjoyed their meals for a few minutes. “So Phonic is dead, huh?” Carson broke the silence. Swift nodded.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with his body. I can’t afford to do anything.”

“Well, I’m sure the Don could make some arrangements for a member of the family--”

“I’m not joining the family, Carson. I’ve told you, Don Bavrati, Don Machelli, Snake, Monsoon, and every other goddamned crime lord and gang leader that I have ever made a deal with that I am not joining any of your families or gangs. I’ll do your odd jobs here and there, I’ll run security for you, I’ll play your guard dog--but I will not pick a side.”

Carson sighed, “I know, I know. Believe me, the Don would appreciate it if you picked a side--all of us would--but we respect your choice--for now.” Carson took another bite of his pancakes and ruminated on Swift’s dilemma for a moment. “Look, the Don likes you. He really does. You’re like another son to him. Hell, you almost were another son to him with that pregnancy scare and all.”

“How do I keep sleeping with all these important people’s daughters? It’s like I have the world’s worst compass that only points in the wrong directions.”

“Look, what I’m saying is that he might be able to lend you some assistance for a funeral for your friend.”

“I don’t need all the pomp and circumstance of a funeral. I just need someone to cover cremation and an urn.”

“Are you sure? The Don wouldn’t mind--”

“I will not be indebted to Bavrati any more than I already am. I will pay him back for a cremation and urn, but nothing more.”

Carson shrugged, “Alright. I’ll see what I can get for you.” The waitress came over with the bill and put it on the table. “Alright, well it looks like I got this.”

“No, I’ve got it.” Swift snatched the bill up and looked it over. He folded a Q20 into the ticket and set it back onto the table. “I hope to hear from you soon, Carson. Hopefully you’ll have some good news for me.”

{This one’s a little chatty, but it’s important for the story, I promise.

Rebirth plug: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/757002}

#writing #short story #Swift #Era of the Iblan Light #fiction

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