Best Way Agency
The bell chimed as a man in a purple leather jacket walked through the threshold of the café. The barista behind the counter looked up from her counter-wiping and greeted him with a smile, “Hey, Emil. Here to see the boss?” Emil waved over a rainbow at the woman.
“Only if she’s got a job for me, Bon. Could I get a Cubano from ya?”
“For sure,” replied the barista as she grabbed from the milk from the fridge behind her. Her cocoa bean hair swayed as she turned. “I saw her meet with a client this morning. Sounds like a difficult case.” Bon poured the milk into the pitcher and started steaming. Through the hissing of the espresso machine she continued, “I think the guy who needs help is being hunted by a werewolf.” Her eyes widened at the end. Emil stared blankly at her through the tinted lens’ of his shades.
“Werewolves don’t exist, Bonnie.” Emil said plainly.
“Of course, they do. I saw one.” Bonnie spoke while pouring espresso into a to-go cup, followed by frothy milk.
“Your ex wearing a wolf costume during a camping trip doesn’t count.”
“Nooo, not that. I mean before then. Did I tell you how that trip ended?”
“Yes, and once was enough.” Emil took the sealed cup in hand. “Where’s June?”
“She should be at the bar side.”
“Thanks,” said Emil. He walked through a doorway near the entrance into a small seating area. He continued past the couches full of college students studying and into the dimly lit bar that runs parallel to the café counter. Emil rested his cup on the bar top in front of a woman with short, purple hair that swept against the patch on her left eye.
“What’s up, doc?” Emil rested his sunglasses beside his coffee on the bar. The bar side of Café Passe was a ghost town compared to the café on the other side of the wall. Which wasn’t surprising to see before noon. June used the bar as an office to talk to clients about jobs, so the discretion was welcomed along with the eerie silence. “How do you keep a bar running with no customers?” Emil took a seat at the bar.
“I just had one. How do you keep getting coffee when you’re dirt poor? Shouldn’t you be finishing up a job right now?” Said June as she scanned paperwork.
“Kite has it handled. And it helps to know the barista of my favourite broker’s café.” Emil took a sip of his hot latte.
June lifted her sass-filled eyes to meet his proud ones for a moment. Then looked back at her file. “I’m the only broker you know.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Literally in my job description, dumbass.”
“So is finding me jobs that pay well. Or are you getting too old to remember that part?”
“I gave you one already. How about you and Kite stop fucking them up so you can get the pay you wanted? And I’m only thirty-five, you asshole.”
Emil huffed in defeat and rested his chin in his palm above the bar. He imagined his arm was a pillar keeping his head from collapsing onto the wood surface of the bar. “You’ve been saying that since I was a teenager,” Emil mumbled. How long has it been? Eight, maybe nine years?
“Care to repeat that?”
“I didn’t care to finish that one, so I left it to Kite. I was hoping you had something else for us.” Emil tried to peak over the top of the papers. June glanced at him. She sighed and laid the papers down for Emil to read. Blurry photos were clipped to some of the pages. Emil picked one up and eyed a picture of a shadowy figure with red eyes approaching a car window. He glanced at the manager who leaned back against the wall. Her black gloves rustled against the matching blouse as she folded her arms. “This isn’t actually a werewolf, is it?” Emil took a sip of his coffee.
“Definitely not, but the client sure thinks so. Apparently, this creature has been following him for the past two weeks. At first, the thing was keeping its distance, so he thought he was seeing things.” June took a moment to grab a flask from her back pocket, opened Emil’s coffee cup, and poured a generous amount into the milky confection.
Emil said in a low growl, “Hey, that’s mine.”
She took a sip. “A week ago, the creature started being active and appeared before him during his nights out. Some of these pictures were taken by bystanders. Others by occult bloggers believing that demons are terrorizing Tucson.” June took another sip of Emil’s drink. “You should’ve ordered a cappuccino. This is a tad sweet.”
“I would’ve if it was meant for you,” said Emil. He put down the file and asked, “So, what’s my job here? Is this another bodyguard gig or a hunt?”
June leaned on the bar and gave him a wry smile. “It’s been a while. You sure you won’t end up being the one hunted?”
Emil returned the gesture. “I may not show them, but I keep my fangs sharp.”
“Good boy.” June drank Emil’s coffee.
“You know that’s mine, right?” asked Emil. I thought old ladies were supposed to be the charitable type.
“You didn’t pay for it, so technically it’s mine,” said June.
“I’m low on funds.”
“You’re always low on funds. Stop taking such low paying jobs.”
“Stop sending me low paying clients.”
“Stop fucking up the jobs I give you.” The two stared each other down with a quiet intensity equivalent to a cub and his alpha.
Slowly, June placed the drink down between them. Emil, matching her pacing, took up his coffee and took a sip. He was taken aback by his new concoction. “Holy hell, who drinks this much vodka in the morning?”
“What? You don’t like espresso martinis?”
“Sure, when I can taste the espresso.”
June shrugged. “Helps me get through my day.”
What a fucking weirdo, thought Emil. He took a slightly smaller sip of his coffee. “Anyway…,” Emil started, “do you know why this guy is being targeted?” June took a moment to answer.
“Nope.”
Emil sighed. “I’m guessing you want me to figure that out too.”
“It would be helpful.” As you already read, the client is an Eller student. He doesn’t have any ink either, so he’s not a bearer.” Emil leaned back into his seat. Coffee in hand.
“Could a bearer have conjured a werewolf to hunt this guy?”
“It’s possible, but I think this is a different monster. Besides, any bearer that can summon something so chaotic with such immense power is either incredibly stupid or incredibly powerful.”
“So, a bearer is after him and we don’t have a motive. Does this guy have any enemies?”
“I did a background check on him already. He’s your everyday business student, in your typical fraternity, getting average grades, so probably. But none that would try and kill him.” Emil contemplated new theories.
“No point wasting my brain this early. How long do I have?” Emil sighed.
“I wasn’t given a deadline. ‘Just as long as that beast doesn’t bother me anymore,’ is what the client told me. I suggest getting it done quickly so you can pay rent on time.”
“June, I pay you rent,” said Emil. His nostrils flared slightly as his eyes narrowed and his lips straight lined.
“Yes, and I’d like to be paid on time for once. You’re lucky I don’t charge you more.” June collected the photos and closed the file. She placed it on a shelf behind her and pulled out a clip board. She shifted her focus to taking stock of her wares.
“What? No lead?” Emil asked.
“I can’t disclose his name, but you might wanna check out Elliott’s tonight. I think around eight?” Said June without looking up at him.
“Isn’t it bad business to send your customers to other restaurants?” Emil retorted.
“You’re not a customer, just a troublesome slacker.”
“I think I do too much work around here.” said Emil. He glanced at the coffee cup as he slipped out of his seat. “You’re lucky I’m not wasteful.” He walked out of the room and back through the café leaving his cup on the bar top. June finished it off.
Once June heard the front doorbell stop ringing, she called out, “Bonnie. Could you come here, please?” The sound of footsteps scurried from the café, through the study area, to the bar. Bonnie clapped her black boots together as she halted in front of June. Her chocolate skirt billowed as it caught up with her still figure. June eyed the tattoos on Bonnie’s arms. They were in an array of placements from her fingers to the short sleeves of her green blouse. The one that caught her eye the most was a tattoo of a ghost. It was done in neo traditional style with large black eyes and a light blue drape that faded into purple, drooping ends.
“Yes, boss?” said Bonnie. Her hazel eyes were aflame with anticipation.
“I need you to follow him.” Said June. “Be discrete. Use the ghost tattoo you love so much.”
“Oh, I’d love to! I’ve been excited to show you the new skill I perfected.” Bonnie’s elation simmered to concern. “Do you want me to make sure he doesn’t mess up the job? I know they get into more trouble than they should, but Emil and Kite are-”
“No. No, they’ll be fine.” June grabbed another file from behind her and placed it open before her assistant. “I would like you to tell me how well he handles this boy.” Bonnie looked over the picture. It was a photo of a college-aged boy. He had scarlet hair that blazed to his shoulders and two full sleeves of tattoos jutting out of his black t-shirt painted a colorful menagerie of red, black, and gold art on his pale skin.
“Who is this prince? And is he into girls?” Bonnie’s enthusiasm made her pitch creep up an octave.
“You usually only get this giddy over werewolves,” June laughed. “This boy is the beginning.” June sat in silence for a moment. “And hopefully the end.”
***
Emil stepped out onto the sunlit sidewalk staring at his phone. He stood in the shade of the two lanky trees by the road in front of the café. The phone displayed a conversation between him and Kite. Kite’s name had a photo of a pink kite flying in the sky above it. Emil typed a new message to his partner: You finish up the job yet? Emil’s stomach growled. “Dammit. That old witch had to go and ruin my breakfast. I can buy lunch or cook something at the apartment,” Emil said to himself. He checked his Wells Fargo account. Thirty-nine dollars. He sighed as he drooped his head. “I guess I’m cooking at home.” He started walking down the street toward Ninth Street when he felt eyes on the back of his neck. He glanced behind him to find a tall red head with eyes hidden behind black lenses. Emil knew those eyes weren’t friendly, though. Emil kept walking on.
“You’re Emil Hawkins, right?” said the stranger. His voice was as smooth as an indoor ice rink. But also as soft as a fox stalking prey.
Emil didn’t stop. “Nope.”
“I wanna challenge him!” yelled the stranger. He followed Emil down the street at an even pace. “I heard he’s one of the best fighters in this town. He’s supposed to be in this summer’s Parlour Tournament.” Emil stood at a trolley station in the middle of the street waiting for the streetcar to pass by. Emil tilted his head toward the red head only half a street away.
“Ever watch Fight Club?” asked Emil. He continued his stroll to the other sidewalk.
“Name your price, said the stranger.” Emil stopped. He eyed the tattoos on the stranger’s arms. He donned full sleeves. The right arm was a sleeve of red, black, and gold ink. Emil could make out crossed swords of two different regions, an ornate spear, some hieroglyphics, and, surprisingly, runes. Who has runes and hieroglyphs on their body? Inked in a gold hue no less. The touchups alone would be expensive. Emil thought to himself. The left sleeve was more normal for a tattoo bearer. It was filled with references to ninja turtles, Pokémon, Digimon, and other pop culture icons.
“I’m broke, so pass.” Said Emil.
“I don’t want your money.” The stranger stood at the end of the crosswalk. Arms crossed.
“I want you to get to the point.” Emil checked his phone. No messages.
“I want you to do a job for me.”
“I have an office.”
“No one was home.”
“Trust fund kids can’t wait?”
“This is an urgent matter.”
“So’s breakfast.” Emil’s face scrunched up. He said to himself, “I feel like I’ve done this already today.” The stranger raised an eyebrow.
“You ok over there?”
“Yeah, I’m just hungry from breakfast.”
“What do Americans call breakfast?” Asked the red head with obvious confusion.
“Coffee.” Emil strolled back to the other side of the street and stood face to chin of his new acquaintance. “So, Trust Fund. Let me get this straight. If I win, I get paid. If I lose, I do a job for free?” The stranger nodded once. “You’re that confident?”
“I’m that good.” The stranger’s teeth flashed in the sunlight. Emil started walking down the street with his hands in his pockets.
“I don’t know who told you about me, but if you didn’t half-ass your homework, you would know that I don’t lose.”
“Oh, I looked into you pretty thoroughly, and I realized that I won’t lose.” The stranger stared down at Emil with eyes that glowed like a hearth. As if to answer the taunt, Emil’s eyes spat blue sparks as he stepped closer to his opponent. Heat radiating off each other’s chest like two boilers overloading in the same room.
Without blinking, Emil walked down the street toward the underpass to the downtown area. As he walked he turned over his shoulder and said, “Let’s get this done so you still have time to see a dentist.”
