Saturday, September 29, 2012

White Fox--Chapter 3, Part 1


Chapter 3
Something Between
Part 1
            The sun, alone and unobscured in the east, shone against Renardo’s right shoulder as he walked through the city three days later.  The sounds of tires against asphalt, honking horns, bellowing words spoken into cell phones, and gliding light rail combined to form the unnoticeable thrum that ever draped the city’s background.  It was somewhat early in the morning, and so hurrying pedestrians peppered the crosswalks, concerned primarily with reaching their destinations in a timely manner, and secondarily with sating the impatient drivers longing to make a right turn.  Dark colors were everywhere; after all, fall was in full swing and winter was approaching, and warm clothes were always accompanied by the less vibrant shades of the spectrum.  The buildings loomed over all, scattered in apparent randomness but seeming to gaze toward the swerving Sacramento River in undecipherable expectancy.  And below, lining the sidewalks and mottling the numerous parks, and hugging themselves with thoughts of spring’s warmth, sat the city’s homeless; but the workday was starting, and they were not noticed.
            Renardo, garbed in a dark blue jacket, black jeans, and tennis shoes, looked up and saw the diner in the distance.  Some would call his return to that place courageous, and more would call it stupid; but out of respect for Nathan, he decided to comb the area for the redheaded woman.  He doubted that anything would result from his search, even if he did find her.  In fact, he was not even sure that he wanted anything to result from finding her.  However, after three days of deep thought, he remembered that he had not been in a relationship for years, and weighed the pros and cons of being in one at this time.  His mission to stop Malvin was critical, but he was aware of the dangers of making it his only purpose.  Having one focus, even one as important as saving the city, could do more damage than good.  Furthermore, after so many years of hunting this evil man, something inside of him was weary.  Perhaps there was someone else out there who could help him carry the burden.
            As for the first favor his friend had asked, he had not completely shut his ears to it.  Over the course of the three days, he had managed to remove himself as best he could from everything that he knew about Malvin and the criminals beneath him.  He had effectively put himself in Nathan’s shoes, and received the revelation that such heavy news—even if backed by solid claims—was not easy to hear.  It would have been better to spoon-feed his friend the information on a gradual basis until Nathan had comprehended the significance of each report over time, and pieced everything together on his own.  Instead, driven into a frenzy by the realization of Dr. Wiles’ scheme, he had poured everything out at once with overwhelming force.  He was no longer upset with Nathan’s reaction, and planned to apologize for the deliverance of the news—not the news itself—as soon as possible.
            The bell chimed above him as he opened the door to the diner and stepped in.  To his relief, Mustache Man was nowhere in sight.  He had also feared that regulars from the diner might have seen the scuffle a few days back, and would reach for their phones or flee once he entered; but the few couples and families who were there took no notice of him.  He requested the same seat in which he had sat before, and before long he was sipping a cup of French Vanilla in his chair, watching the front door.  He had acquired neither contact information nor a name from the woman, and these facts pained him.  She had been so nice despite his obvious uncaring demeanor, and he had been so engrossed in his mission that he had thrown aside all manners.  If she stopped by today, she would get nothing less than his undivided attention.
            After drinking three cups of coffee and reading many pages of a graphic novel he had brought with him, he began to wonder if he should go home.  The odds that she would return to the same diner, on the same day, at the same time that he did were not in his favor.  He reached the end of the page and shut the pages of the book, but just as he began to rise from his seat, he glanced out a window at the front of the diner and saw the woman nearing the front door.  He smiled at her, but she walked with her eyes centered on the ground, and for a moment he thought he could see a tear marking one of her cheeks.  Once she entered the room, however, her face brightened and she beamed at employee and customer alike.  She did not see Renardo until she had come within a few yards of him, and then she stopped walking and seemed surprised by his presence.  He looked at her and was taken aback by her beauty.  Her hair was straightened rather than curled (as it had been the day before), and she wore a stylish brown trench coat and heels.  He made a valiant effort to avoid betraying his attraction to her, but he was certain that he had already failed, and that she had noticed.
            “Hey, it’s you!” she exclaimed.  “How are you?”
“I’m doing ok, considering I was almost officially an icicle by the time I made it here,” he replied with a laugh.  “You?”
“Just another day,” she said, the corners of her mouth falling.  She hugged herself for warmth.  “Did you drive here?”
“No, I walked.  I don’t really like cars.”
“Oh, I see.”
Renardo shuffled his feet and looked forlornly at his empty cup of coffee.  The woman smiled and asked him, “Was the coffee black again?”
“No, not this time.  Mustache Man hasn’t shown his furry mustache since I got here, so I wasn’t distracted.”
“Mustache Man, huh?  Interesting….”
“Yeah.” Renardo brought the cup closer to him and patted the table.  “You can go ahead and take a seat here, if you want.  I mean, you don’t have to.  There are plenty of other good seats here.  But it’s available…just so you know.”
She laughed and accepted the invitation, setting down a small purse she had carried in with her.  Although he had promised himself to give her his full attention, Renardo could not help but look out the front window from time to time.  He imagined Dr. Wiles, or even Malvin, standing outside the diner, staring at him with a wicked smirk.  Before his thoughts went too far, he returned his gaze to the young woman.  “I highly recommend the French Vanilla coffee, fair lady,” he remarked in the first accent that came to mind.  “Good stuff.  Not good for you, but good stuff, indeed.”
“I just might try that, sir, and thank you,” she responded, adopting the same accent.  “So, are you a regular here now?”
“No.  Well, maybe.  I didn’t come here today just for the coffee.  I came to see you.”
She was silent, and she avoided meeting his eyes.  He realized that such a statement might sound forward, and so he immediately continued: “I mean, I came in hopes that you would be here, because I wanted to apologize for the other day.  I was a jerk.  There’s no other way to look at it.  While you were trying to make conversation, I was distracted, and you probably felt that whatever was holding my attention was more important than what you were saying.  I was just freaking out a little because of that guy.  But ‘freaking out’ is no excuse for running out of the diner when we were in the middle of talking.  I’m sorry for that.”
“Wow,” the woman said, nodding.  “That’s surprising.  In my experience, guys find it difficult to apologize.  Um…don’t worry about it.  It’s ok.  I just figured that whatever was going on was very important, and you needed to get out of here quickly. In fact, I was a little worried that something bad had happened to you.  Is everything ok?”
“Everything is fine.  I’m just glad I could apologize.  Hey, you can go ahead and order if you want.  I might just get another cup of coffee.  My bladder will hate me forever, but he’s a jerk, anyway.”
She burst into laughter.  “My gosh, you are so funny!”  She grabbed a menu from the center of the table and opened it.  “It’s been a tough morning, and it’s really good to laugh.”
“I’m sorry it’s been tough.  Um, if you want to talk about anything, I’ll listen.”
She looked at him warmly, and he noticed the sparkle of tears as they rested in her eyes for a moment.  “Thank you.  That’s nice of you to offer.”
Renardo did not have a clue as to what she was facing, but he felt an unusual aching in his heart once he sensed her pain.  She seemed so strong externally.  Upon her entrance to the diner, she had walked with confidence and authority.  Now that she was at the table, she sat with her shoulders held high and a flawless posture.  As he looked more intently at her, however, he was reminded of popsicle stick crafts he had constructed as a child.  No matter how small or large the craft was, and no matter how much glue held the various pieces together, all it took was one firm touch or a gust of wind to topple it.  She was obviously emotionally strong, but it looked as if she fought to keep all of her pieces intact, so as to avoid collapsing completely.  Though his heart ached, and though he pitied her, he felt that he should praise her for her durability in the face of the trauma that presently assaulted her.  Whether it was a death in the family, a feud with her parents, or the loss of a friend, he did not know; but whatever it was, it did not overcome her.  

Saturday, September 22, 2012

White Fox--Chapter 2, Part 3

They took their seats on the couch, and as Renardo put his thoughts in order and prepared to explain them, the coffeemaker ended its growling.  He looked at his friend with studious eyes, wondering how much he could tell him.  It was not as though he feared his trust being betrayed, but he was aware that the average person would not readily accept a story such as his.  He opted to tell it in its entirety, deciding that if Nathan were a true friend, he would hear it first before judging.  He cleared his throat and said, “Do you remember those crimes that happened in Sacramento five years ago? And I’m not talking about the everyday crimes.  You know, the string of high-profile robberies and murders that happened at the end of the year?”
“Yeah, it’s hard to forget.  That was the worst crime this city has ever seen.”
“I know.  Well, do you remember what happened with all of that?”
Nathan stared off into space as the memories returned to him.  “They caught most of the guys, but some got away.  People feared that the attacks would continue since not all of them were arrested, or that copycat crimes would start up.  But nothing else happened.”
Renardo affirmed the information with a nod.  “You’re right, not all of the criminals were arrested.  But that doesn’t mean that some of them weren’t known.  On the news, they showed pictures of the men who had eluded police.  One of them was named Victor Valdez.  Do you remember him?”
“Can’t say that I do,” said Nathan.  “But you know, that was a while back, and there were quite a few names floating around.  If you showed me a picture or video or something, I might remember.”
“I don’t have anything on me to prove it,” Renardo admitted, “but yeah, Victor was one of them.  Now I’m going to need you to believe me here.  I know it might be difficult.  This guy, Victor.  Well, I was at a pub here in Sac, and I saw him there.  I know, you might think that since I was drinking at a pub, I got drunk and thought I saw him.  The thing is, I hadn’t even touched a drink yet.  And there he was, sitting at a table in the corner; he had one arm around some lady friend of his, and two guys—friends, I guess—sat across from them.  Now I was looking at him from a distance, and even though I was pretty damn sure it was him, I wanted to be certain before I called the cops.  I got a little bit closer, and one of his friends noticed me.  The three men walked over to me and asked if I had a staring problem, if I was lost, et cetera—all that sort of nice stuff.  I grabbed my phone and tried to dial 911, but they knocked it from my hands and forced me outside.  This is where you’re going to just have to trust me.”
He went into the kitchen again and came out with two cups of coffee and a handful of creamers.  He handed one of the cups to Nathan, set his own down on the coffee table, and continued:
“I was pissed as I thought of what they might do to me.  I couldn’t stand the thought of Victor getting away with severely injuring me, or worse, after being part of such heinous crimes.  So right as we got outside, I broke free from their grip.  Instead of running, I fought.  I didn’t even know what I was doing.  I just started swinging my fists like I was crazy, and somehow, I managed to knock Victor’s two friends to the ground.  I hit them so hard, I thought I killed them.  Then I came to Victor, and all the anger I had from hearing about his crimes came out.  He was a mess when I was finished with him.  Toward the end a bunch of words came from my mouth, and at some point I asked him, you know, ‘How could you kill those people? Think of their children, who are left behind without parents, knowing that they could do nothing to save them.’  And then he told me, ‘I had no choice, man.  It was Centius.  It’s all on him.  He made us do it.  He made all of us do it.’
“I was surprised by so many things at that point.  I mean, I had never even heard of Centius.  I guess in my moment of shock I just froze up, and I didn’t notice Victor reaching toward his pocket.  He pulled out some kind of knife.” Then Renardo stood up and lifted up his jacket and dress shirt.  Across the bottom left region of his abdominal muscles was a rather dark scar, about the size of a thumb.  “He stabbed me here.  Hurt like hell, but luckily, he was so weak by that point, and I caught on at the last second.  If not for those things, I might be dead.  Anyway, yeah, he stabbed me, and I just fell on the ground, thinking it was the end.  He stumbled away.  Some people found me and called the police, and not long after I was in the hospital.  You probably remember that.  I told you I was drunk and fell on a broken bottle outside a pub.  I told you that because I thought you’d never believe what really happened.  And I didn’t even know what I thought about it, myself.”
He proceeded to tell Nathan about the time he had spent tracking Centius, and how he had soon discovered that the man’s first name was Malvin.  He was interrupted only by the occasional sip of coffee and Nathan’s rare and brief questions.  He finished the story with his embarrassing fight earlier that day, and lamented the fact that Malvin was aware of his reconnaissance.  He was about to book a flight to Philadelphia, he remarked, when Nathan so sweetly disrupted his plans by ringing the doorbell.  Wiles was now the only one who could tell him the truth of Malvin’s whereabouts, and this would probably not come out without a struggle.
By now they had both finished their coffee, and it seemed that Nathan’s eyes would burn a hole in the empty cup he held.  He did not speak for a while.  As he awaited a response, Renardo glanced frequently at his front door; he realized that he had become far too comfortable and careless in his vigilance during his storytelling.  It was impossible to tell whether Malvin was miles or feet away, especially in light of his new evidence.  Whenever his eyes returned to Nathan, he could not discern the young man’s thoughts.  It appeared that he was considering all of the information before making any decision or judgment, at least.  Most people would not have been so patient.  But after a couple minutes he said, “Renardo, my friend….”
“Yes?”
“Renardo….” He sighed.  “Man, do you know how crazy all of this is? I mean, really.  You’re my best friend, and I’m on your side no matter what.  But…ok, let’s look at what you’re telling me.  Almost five years ago, you happened to be in the same bar with one of the dudes who committed those crimes.  You fought three criminals and won, and got stabbed.  After you healed, you began your own personal quest and tracked down this Malvin Centius guy, who is a crime lord behind all those crimes five years.  The police have no idea about him, but you have tons of information.  You flew to Philadelphia just so you could get info about Malvin from a professor.  He gave you bad info, and you beat the living crap out of some random guy because of it.  Now this major crime lord knows who you are and is trying to thwart your plans.  Man….I don’t know.  This is just crazy.”
“Check my facts, Nate,” Renardo replied, his voice calm.  “Check them.  See if there was no Victor Valdez.  See my fists? They’re cut up from my fight this morning.  I can even show you the many pages of evidence I have, but it’s all in a different room.  This isn’t something I’m inventing, man.”
“It’s just….I don’t know.  Something’s not right.  It seems like you have a lot of your facts straight, but I don’t know.”
“Look, Nate.  I am fully convinced that Malvin isn’t finished with Sacramento.  And I can’t bear to see a repeat of what happened five years ago.  I’m going to stop him, even if it means the end of me.”
Nathan looked closely at him.  “What happened to you, man?”
“What the hell do you mean, what happened to me?”
“Never mind.” Nathan set down his cup on the table and rose to his feet.  “Hey, I need to get going.  I have a lot to think about.  Thanks for the coffee and everything.  It was really good.  I just have a couple of favors to ask, ok?”
Renardo did not look at him, fearing that he would launch a fist into his face at the first glance.  “What?”
“First, I just ask you to really rethink everything you just told me.  Pretend you’re not you for a few minutes and try to imagine hearing that.  Maybe it’ll give you some perspective.”
Renardo grunted.  “Fine, I’ll try.”
“Second, dude,” said Nathan, “talk to that girl.  I know there wasn’t much between you, but maybe you can find something.  You might need her more than you know.”
“Yeah, sure, fine.”
“Ok.  Well, thanks again for everything.  I’ll see you soon, all right?”
Renardo watched as he left the house.  Once he heard the sound of a car starting up, he returned to his basement and sat at the computer desk.  Although it was still somewhat early in the day, he was weary of it, and he desired that he could somehow rewind it.  Pummeling Mustache Man and informing Nathan of such an enormous situation had not been his wisest moves, and he felt that he might pay dearly for both.  Sancho sauntered over to him, rose to his back paws, and again threw his front paws on his master’s lap.  Renardo grinned a pensive, sad grin and lifted the dog into his arms.
“Some people only know how to hide from the truth,” he said. 
The dog said nothing.