That was stupid.
He cursed himself silently. The kid had seen him, and that was not supposed to happen. It had never happened before. He knew his skills were beginning to fade, but he had thought he still had it in him to go unnoticed by a child. He had been following him for ten years and never left so much a hair or shadow to be found.
He cursed again.
He peeked around the corner of the pillar toward the bookstore where the kid had been a few moments before. He was gone now. He pulled his greasy ponytail off his shoulder and let it hang behind him. He ran his fingers over the scruffy stubble on his face. He could not screw up now. It had been too long to let it all fall apart now.
He reached into his tattered coat and pulled his watch out of his pocket. The chain had broken long ago but the mechanics were still running after all of these years. He pressed the small button that let the face open and looked at the time. It was almost four o’clock. It was time to prepare for tonight. He was supposed to pick up Anya at seven.
All thought stopped at the distinctive click that perked his ears. It had come from behind him. He had not heard anyone walk up, and that was another mistake he would not have made in the past.
Now that he was alerted, his senses kicked in. He knew exactly what position the sound had come from. He could also see in his mind that there were three other bodies scattered behind him at different points. He knew where they were within an inch.
“Hey, weird Jesus,” a voice called from behind him. He could practically see the gun in his hand. From the sound it made when the wielder pulled the hammer back, it had to be a nine-millimeter. From the high-pitched sound of the voice, it was held by a young Hispanic male of about twenty-two. He was probably even holding it sideways.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Raloam said.
“Well, you got some,” the young man said. “I saw that watch you just put in your pocket. I want it!”
“Okay,” Raloam said. “That’s not a problem. Just let me get it.”
“Move slow, Scruffy,” another voice called out. This one came from his right, but still quite a good distance behind him. The owner of the second voice was older than the gunman.
Raloam held his hands in the air and slowly moved his right hand back into his coat to retrieve the watch. He took a breath and centered himself. He closed his eyes and felt his heart rate slow almost to a complete stop. He tuned his ears, listening to the breath of the men behind him. The sound had gone from extremely nervous and fast to extremely slow.
What he did next felt like he was in slow motion. It was as if someone had turned down the speed for the entire world. He pulled the watch from his pocket and turned around to face his attackers. Four men were standing ten feet behind him. Six or seven feet of space separated each man. They all appeared to be standing completely motionless, like gangster statues. This was good. It was just like practice.
The watch left his fingers with precise accuracy and struck the man with the gun square in the forehead. He slowly began to fall. His hand released its grip, and the gun fell at a snail’s pace to the ground. It landed with a thump and an exaggerated explosion filled the air. Raloam could see the bullet make its way from the barrel of the weapon to the shoulder of one of the other men. He screamed and began his descent to the pavement.
Raloam launched his body into the air and put both feet onto the chest of one of the remaining men. He stood on the man for a second before reaching down and landing a punch on the man’s temple. He looked over to see that the final man was just beginning to react to the gunshot. He swung one leg out and connected it with his nose. The man sailed through the air, crashing hard into one of the concrete pillars.
Raloam stepped off of the man and looked around. It had all happened in less than three seconds. The passing of time seemed to catch up again and he could hear the cars passing overhead once more. The man with the gunshot wound was groaning, his blood spilling all over the ground. Raloam picked up his watch from the ground and wiped the dust from it before returning it to his pocket.
He knelt on the ground next to the man who was bleeding and pulled his hand from the wound. The man looked at him and started to draw back but Raloam put his hand on his throat.
“Relax,” he said. “I won’t hurt you unless you cause me to.” The man grimaced but allowed him to continue. He grabbed the man’s shirt and ripped it down the front and looked at where the bullet had struck him. “You’re going to be alright. The bullet passed through and it didn’t hit anything. Do you have a phone?”
“Yeah, man,” the thug replied.
“Call an ambulance. Your friends will be waking up soon. I think the one I landed on has a couple of cracked ribs.”
Raloam turned and began walking away, back toward the street.
“How did you do that,?” the man called from behind him. “Who the hell are you?”
Raloam pulled his last cigarette out of his shirt pocket and put it between his lips as he kept walking. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.
__________________________________________________________________________
“Jesus! Where have you been?”
Raloam stepped into Anya’s apartment and pulled his coat off. “I got held up,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t know that the plan was to just show up when everybody else got there,” she replied. “I thought that we were gonna check the place out first.”
“We are, Anya,” he said. “Would you relax? We’ve got some time.”
He watched her walk toward the bedroom and he realized that she was dressed for the occasion. Anya usually dressed nicely, as her job required her to have a certain amount of style. But usually, it was just a nice top and a skirt, or possibly a pantsuit. Right now she was wearing a black dress that came down to her knees and exposed a lot of skin up top. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a way that looked like it had been easy to do classic and stylish at the same time.
“Anya,” he said.
She stepped back into the hallway and looked at him as she put on her earrings.
“What?” she asked.
“You look nice,” he replied.
She rolled her eyes. “Like you notice things like that anymore.”
“I’m still a guy,” he said with a grin.
“At your age?” she said, laughing. “Ray, you’re barely human.”
Raloam looked at the mirror next to the front door and ran a hand through his hair. He could once see nothing but solid black. Now he had several gray hairs on his head, and more appeared in his beard every day.
“Ray,” Anya was saying. He looked over at her and raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to get dressed? You can’t go like that. You look like you haven’t showered in days.”
“I haven’t,” he replied. “That’s the look that I’m going for.”
“Well, we’re not supposed to stand out tonight,” she said. “Now, I went through a lot of trouble to get us into this thing. The least you can do is look presentable. And I want you to shave!”
Raloam nodded and went into the other bedroom. His bedroom. Although he lived here he could not quite call it home. He always referred to it as Anya’s. It was mostly because she did not charge him any money to live here. She had told him a long time ago that he was welcome to stay with her for as long as he needed. He knew that most people said things like that without any real meaning behind it. But with Anya, it had been sincere. She had gotten him off of the streets. And even though it had been his choice to live on the streets in the first place, it was nice to have somewhere to go.
He closed the door and went to the closet. He did not have a lot of clothes. He spent most of his time alone, melding himself into the homeless community of the cities he resided in that it did not make much sense to carry around a lot of extra things. But he kept some here for those times when he needed to mix into other classes of society. Tonight he would be with the high rollers, so he would have to look like one.
He had a tuxedo, but he was not going to wear that. He thought the museum event was going to be fancy, but he did not want to look like he was going to the prom. He reached into the back and found the black Armani. It was covered in a plastic dry cleaning bag he had left there to protect it from dust. He had only had a chance to wear it once since buying it a few years ago. He hung it on the closet door and stepped into the bathroom.
__________________________________________________________________________
“Wow,” Anya said when he finally emerged from the bedroom ten minutes later. “You clean up nice.”
Raloam smiled as he clipped his cufflink into place. “Thanks,” he said.
She brushed his lapel and adjusted his tie. “I’m still amazed at how fast you can do that. You even shaved.”
“Well, I trimmed. I told you there was nothing to worry about,” he said. He pulled his watch out of his pocket and opened it. “Look at that. Plenty of time.”
“Yeah,” Anya said. “Enough time for you to take me to dinner.”
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