Dana grimaced as her terminal flashed, the name “Mr V” floating above it. Taking a large shot of cheap imitation whiskey, she lit an imitation cigarette and accepted the call. “Good evening, Mr V. I wasn’t expecting you to contact me. Something wrong with my report?”
“No, not quite. It’s rather thorough, in fact. I have to commend you on your information gathering.”
“Thank you. But I doubt you’re calling to tell me I did a good job.”
“True. Leaving aside her living citation for the time being - I doubt any amount of credits will change that - I’m concerned about her well-being. Specifically, her diet.”
Dana took a long drag on her cigarette, stifling the words she wanted to say. Daddy worried about his little girls precious fuckin’ figure? Scared she’s gonna embarrass him at his oh-so-fuckin’-fancy dinner parties? “Ah, yes. She has been putting on weight since she arrived. I was trying not to mention it.” Dana spoke as tactfully as she could. “So? What are you asking me to do about it?”
“Your report mentioned addictive chemicals in the McDonaugh’s. By the sounds of it, Sally doesn’t have any resistance to it. Is there any way she could…..I don’t know, acquire some?”
Dana clicked her tongue. “Well……I have some contacts who can acquire addiction suppressants. They could kill the craving for a while. But I’d need to spike her drinks, and she would need to stop eating there on her own. If that’s what you-”
“The funds have been deposited. Do what you need to, Miss Stingray.”
Dana burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it, the situation was too amusing. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was unprofessional, wasn’t it? Don’t worry, Mister Venka, I’ll keep on babysitting your daughter as long as you need me to.”
Silence reigned. Dana’s mirth died out, and a cold sweat ran down her back. Shit, did I go too far? She didn’t apologise, only looking at the screen whilst nervously lighting another cigarette.
“How?”
“Your daughter isn’t as tight lipped as she should be. But, besides, should you really be surprised that a PI figured you out?”
“I could have you killed for possessing that information.”
Dana’s eyes narrowed dangerously. When she spoke again, her voice was icey, and the layer of professionalism she kept up began to slip away to reveal her roots. “A word to the wise, Mr Venka. If you wanna threaten someone, pick someone who ain’t meeting your precious little angel for breakfast everyday. Insult my integrity like that again, and you’ll have bigger problems than a little gossip.”
“.........I apologize. Sally……means a lot to me. If people knew she was there…..”
“That’s why you’re paying me. I said I’d look out for her, and I will.” Dana paused. “For the record, I wouldn’t have squealed even if you’d been upfront. Would have made my job easier, honestly.”
“I see. Thank you, Miss Stingray. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for your time.”
The transmission cut off, and Dana got a moment to relax. She opened a cold burrito, and chewed listlessly. As much as she didn’t mind the legwork, and occasional wetwork of her job, some clients could sap her energy. She idly hooked a thumb under the waistband of her skirt, and pulled it down, relieving the pressure from her overstuffed middle, and letting her paunch flop forwards onto her lap. Shit, I really am getting fat. Maybe getting that fat slut off the McDonaugh’s would be good for me as well. Dana’s concerns about breaking two hundred pounds seemed like an unfunny joke to her current self. Looking at both herself and Felicity, as well as the girl herself, Sally seemed to be a font of flab. Everyone around her seemed to give way to obesity. Even more so than the usual burned-out population.
Dana was glad that she had the burrito. It was cold, and greasy, and the meat in it probably came from something that crawled in the sewers, but at least it didn’t trick her stomach into thinking it was still empty. Even as she had been talking to Venka, her stomach had been growling. With the snack inside her, she finally felt the bloated fullness that she should have been feeling all day. Slowly, she massaged her turgis middle, wincing as she pressed too hard. Slowly, her ache began to soothe.
Too slowly for what came next. Her buzzer sounded, and a dark figure loomed behind the pastiglass panel in her door. She had a client. Throwing the burrito in her waste chute, she yanked her skirt back up over her belly, ignoring it’s painful protests, and lit another cigarette to mask the smell of grease. Confident she at least looked presentable, she unlocked the door. And then her blood ran cold.
Stood in the doorway was Mr Hughes. Hunched over, and clearly sporting some clunky chrome beneath his ratty shirt, but alive. He ambled inside, dropping into the seat opposite Dana. FuckfuckshitfuckSHIT! Why’s he here? Why’s he alive? What the fuck does he want with me? Sally you fuckin’ WHORE! “Good evening, gent. You should know, I don’t usually take walk-ins.”
Mr Hughes chuckled, wincing. “Ooh aar, ‘e said you’d say that. It’s alright, missy. We’ve got a mutual friend, we ‘ave.”
“Oh? Friends aren’t the easiest thing to come by here.”
“Ooh arr, too right, missy. But ‘e is a good friend, that maggoty ol’ doctor. Said you could see me as a bit of a favour.”
Dana immediately shifted gears. “Oh, you’re talking about that fuckin’ piece of sewage runoff? Yeah, fine, I’ll do his fuckin’ “personal favour” and hear you out, but if you see him before me, tell him I’m gonna break his fuckin’ legs!”
Mr Hughes chuckled. “Ever popular wiv the ladies, ol’ Guillotine. But it’s a nice job. Easy money for a girl of your talents. Doc said you was the best.”
“I haven’t taken it yet. Gimme some details.”
Mr Hughes pulled out a holo display, and turned it on. Above it, six blurry images floated. Five of them showed Sally Venka. One showed Felicity, camera footage from the night Mr Hughes and his friend ran afoul of Sally. “See the little blondie? I want her found, and delivered. Five thousand clinks.”
“Who is she? That’s bounty hunter money.”
“Little bitch is the one what gave me this.” He thumped her side, a clang echoing in the room. “Killed my mate, too. Boss Martin put a “Kill on Sight” out for ten thousand, but that ain’t enough. I wanna kill the bitch, fuck the money!”
Dana’s blood ran cold. Five thousand was what Mr Venka was paying her every month to keep “the bitch” safe from thugs like Hughes. But, if there was a “Kill on Sight” out for her, Dana might be better cutting her losses before she got into something she couldn’t recover from. She finished her cigarette, hoping the low exhalation didn’t betray her anxiety. Luckily, Mr Hughes wasn’t the fastest drive. “I’ll do a little preliminary investigation, but I can’t promise anything. A smart person would be gone by now. If I do find something…..I’ve got your number.”
“Much obliged, Miss Stingray. I ‘ope you’ll pull through.” With some effort, he stood, tipping an imaginary hat as he left the room.
Dana released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her gut surged out, ripping her skirt down the sides, but she didn’t even notice. Her mind was racing. If it was just the money, she should reject the job offer. But she couldn’t protect Sally from a professional bounty hunter, even a cheap one. And tangling with the Martins gang would put a huge target on her head. Did she have loyalty to Sally? She denied it, but there was a niggle of something resembling a conscience in her mind. Something else told her that she should off Sally herself, claim the reward, and skip town. Letting out a strangled shout, she ripped the top off of the fake whisky. Whatever she chose, it felt wrong. It was easier for the time being to get herself blackout drunk.
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