Free Shadowboxer by Nicholas Pollotta Page B

that hard?”
    “Straight as a laser.”
    A variety of expressions came and went on the norm’s face, none of them happy, so Two Bears quickly added. “I got insurance.”
    That snapped Jake around. “Yeah, who?”
    “Ask him when he sends in the drones with all guns firing.”
    “Drek,” snorted the norm. “But it’s a good lie. Let me see who’s looking for work.” Reaching under the desk, Jake retrieved a datacable, slid the end into his temple, and started his fingers dancing over the deck built into the desk top.
    Two Bears felt oddly disurbed by the event. Fat Jake a decker, that was also new. What else had changed with the man? Gods, what a different place the world suddenly seemed.
    After a few minutes, Jake removed the cabie from his forehead and laid it down between them. Two Bears read the act as a formal line of disembarkation.
    “Done,” said Jake, coiling the cable. “I got what you asked for, and I set the meet for the old place at Palm and Cove. Second-floor ballroom. You remember?”
    “Natch.” It was where they used to get drunk, get high, and make plans to take over the city gov. Youthful dreams of avarice.
    Satisfied, Two Bears stood, and after a moment, offered his stout hand to the other. Jake stared at the hand as if it was infested with crabs, then rose and took it. The two released their respective grips almost immediately.
    “Now we’re even, Two,” said Jake, stepping to the wall and palming open a door. The alley showed outside. In a flash of memory, Two Bears recalled the secret door. It was an escape route from the old days, clearly still in operational condition. Probably just in case the old days came back with a vengeance.
    Staring down at the dwarf, Jake went on, “Now we’re even. If I pass you on the streets, I’ll ignore you. But if we meet on a run and you’re on the other side, finito.”
    Two Bears scowled. “Crosshairs, we’re even. No debt, no sweat.”
    “Done and done.”
    Two Bears moved past the taller man, then paused in the doorway. “With one exception.”
    “What?” demanded Jake gruffly. “Some fave club? A bix bop? I’ll never go to The Crypt, so you can forget that.”
    “Ah, too bad, my boys would love to meetcha,” Two Bears returned, then softened his tones. “But no, Jake, I was referring to Melinda’s grave. I put flowers there occasionally and—”
    A roar cut him off. “So it’s you!” bellowed Jake, spittle spraying from his mouth. Razorspurs sprang out of his hands and Fat Jake reached for Two Bears’ throat. Two Bears ducked low and backstepped into the alleyway, giving himself combat room. What the frag was going on here?
    “Get this straight, mutie,” growled the human through clenched teeth, his thin chest heaving. “In twenty-four hours our deal is done, and your hoop is mine. How does it feel to be a dead man, freak?”
    Staying out of reach, Two Bears was startled by the reaction. “But Jake, I. . .”
    “And if I ever catch you near her site I’ll geek you on the spot and then go do your whole fragging family!”
    Stunned, Two Bears just stood there, staring at the raving norm.
    “OUT! GET THE FRAG OUT! AND NEVER GO NEAR HER AGAIN, YA STINKING ANIMAL!”
    Moved more by the sheer power of emotions in the norm’s words, Two Bears stumbled further into the alley, the slamming door cutting off any further conversation. Standing alone on the sunny concrete, he wondered why Jake was so hyped on him paying his respects to a gone friend. She’d chosen Jake, not him. Was he that selfish he couldn’t even share her in death?
    Quickly Two Bears moved off, dropping the map into one dumpster, the beard into another, trading his camera to a squatter for a soiled duster comprised of more patches than fabric, changing his appearance as much as possible as he headed for the rendezvous point. As looped as Jake sounded, he might go back on the deal at any time because of this. Everything was luck and speed from this point