Natasha took my arm. “Look at you, you can barely walk.”
“I’ll get better.”
“Don’t be silly, Mick Trubble. Here, lean on me.”
That killed me, her thinking that her tiny frame could really support mine. I let her baby me anyway. Her gentle touch was way better than spending the last half hour being used as a substitute punching bag. Normally I’m not that bad when it comes to fisticuffs, but Joey had laughed off my best haymaker like it was nothing. I almost started to suspect that he was a synoid, but I figured he was just one of those freaks of nature who add to their freakishness by taking growth hormones and lifting buildings for fun.
My door opened from my holoband’s signal and Natasha led me inside. “We haven’t had any company, Mick Trubble. Papa is still recovering from the robbery, so we haven’t seen much of anyone lately.”
The robbery. So that was the excuse Luzzatti had given for looking like someone tossed him in a meat grinder. I knew that he didn’t want Natasha to know the real deal, so I kept mum and just nodded.
She sat me down and robbed my medicine kit of all the stuff that stings like hell. Then she attacked the cuts and bruises on my face. It was almost funny because she gasped and winced more than I did.
“I can get the medimech to tack care of all this, sweetheart.”
“I want to do it.” She had one of those stubborn looks on her face that dames get sometimes. I knew better than to argue.
She bandaged the bridge of my nose. “You’re lucky. I don’t think it’s broken. Who did this to you?”
“I gotta be more careful when I get off the station at night. You should see the other mug, though.”
“He’d have to be dead, Mick Trubble. Take your shirt off.”
I obeyed, stripping to the waist. Natasha gasped at the sight of my torso. I took a glance at the damage. It was pretty gruesome, I had to admit. My bruises were layered with more bruises. Only the fact that I still had a little hard muscle kept the ribs from being broken. Ol’ Joey was an expert in dealing out pain. Just enough to keep a mug outta the body shop. Not every bruno can toe the line like that. Most tend to go overboard, like the droppers who put the work to Luzzatti.
Natasha spread some nanocream over the bruises. The medicated salve was laced with microscopic, protein-based machines that absorbed into the underlying tissue and worked at repairing the damage. Expensive as hell, but if you’re in my line of work it’ll save a trip or two to the body shop. The sensation was like being roasted over hot coals and then dumped into a tub of ice. I’ve had better times, but the bruises quickly faded and almost vanished altogether.
Natasha ran her hands over the newly healed skin. “Wow. That was fast. Much faster than they should have healed even with the cream.”
“What can I say? I always heal pretty quickly.” I couldn’t exactly explain that oddity, but I never bothered to wonder about anything that actually worked to my advantage. I had enough things to worry about that didn’t.
We both became aware that I was shirtless and her hands were on my bare skin. She blushed real pretty-like and stepped back as I cleared my throat and reached for my undershirt.
“Much obliged for taking care of me, sweetheart.”
She busied herself by putting all the medication away. “I haven’t seen much of you since…”
I walked over to the wardrobe by the wall and snagged a new shirt, since the one I wore in looked like I’d been run over by a dump truck. “Been busy. Work and all.”
“Kinda feels like you’ve been avoiding me, Mick Trubble. I feel like… I did something to push you away.” She cut a quick glance at me, just fast enough for me to catch the hurt in her eyes.
I sighed as I buttoned up my shirt and knotted my tie. “Listen… there’s a lot about me that I gotta keep to myself. I promise we’ll sit down and talk about it soon. You deserve that. But right now I got a plate full of trouble that someone has to eat, and I’m trying to make sure that I’m not that someone, understand?”
“No.” She smiled. “But I can wait. I’m not going anywhere, you know.”
“I’m glad for that, Natasha. I really am. Now promise that you’ll do something for me, will you?”
“You know that I will.”
I took her by the wrist and touched her holoband to mine. “I’m synching us up. That way if you see anything strange, or if anything happens, you send me a priority call right away.”
She searched my face with a puzzled frown. “Is something going on, Mick Trubble? You can tell me. I’m not some little girl that can’t handle the truth.”
“I know.” I paused, then decided that she was right. “Look, it’s your Pa. He’s in a heap of trouble with some bad business. You can’t say nothing to him about it. I’m doing what I can to straighten things out, but time’s running out. You just alert me to anything that looks outta place, or anyone shows up that you feel is trouble. I’ll come running.”
To her credit she took it better than I thought she would. She swallowed her fear down and handed me my Bogart. “I guess I’d better let you do… whatever it is that you do.”
“I’ll tell you when it’s over.” I placed the Bogart on my head and tilted it just the way I liked it. “Thanks, doll.” I indicated my bandaged face. “It’s nice to have someone look out after me for a change.”
She smiled as she straightened out my collar. “You’d do the same for me, Mick Trubble.”
“I would, but I hope I never have to. Keep your chin up, kid. I’ll see you around.”
Chapter 5: The Low Down On the Down Low
To be honest I was the one that needed to keep a chin up, because I had a bad feeling that only grew worse when I stepped outside of the complex. I dipped into a cabbie that waited on the curb. The sensors picked up my holoband’s signal as the motor purred to life.
The vehicle’s synthetic voice fizzled on. “Where will I be taking you, Mr. Trubble?”
“Downtown. The Gaiden.”
“Right away, Mr. Trubble.”
I shifted around in the back seat and tried to ignore the soreness. Quick healing can hurt almost as bad as the original injury, and my head pounded against my skull like an angry drummer with only one note to play. I needed two things badly. Information, and a stiff drink.
Luckily I knew where to find both.
The Gaiden was one of those swanky Downtown clip joints that a mug like me normally doesn’t frequent too often. The booze was too high and the dames were too snobby. It was the hotspot for fat cats who liked the thrill of rubbing elbows with smooth criminals and gentlemen gangsters.
The joint was located a bit off to its own on the shady side of Downtown. Normally a reservation was needed, but I knew Suggs, the doorman. He didn’t even blink when I cut in front of the astonished patrons waiting to get inside. I ignored their protests and stepped through the doors.
The coat check was a synoid, which showed how much bread the joint made. Couldn’t make do with a standard android. The artificial dame was all smiles and dimples as she took my flogger and synched my holoband to the tag. “Thank you Mr. Trubble. Shall I take your Bogart as well?”
“Not on your life, kid.”
“Very well. Enjoy your time at the Gaiden!”
I paused at the cocktail lounge and tapped the counter. Vinny, the twitchy, narrow-faced barkeep stepped over for my order.
“Bulleit Neat.”
As he poured it up I took a glance around. Fats the Jazz Man played trumpet on a solo cut while the patrons looked on in appreciation. In a lot of joints the musician was just an accessory that faded in the background, but Fats was too good. He poured his soul into every note, and his soul was a wonder to hear. A few mugs cut glances at me through the haze of gasper smoke and slick laid conversations, trying to figure my game out. My rags were too shabby to mark me as a regular, but I definitely didn’t look like a tourist. I let them simmer in the mystery as I sipped the bourbon.