Passing Through Part 5
A tall, curvaceous woman slants toward the darkness on a Fletcher Falls Hotel balcony. She wears a long, silver-glittery robe. The position of the hotel in the sunlight shrouds her in the building's shadow. A silvery, metallic mug shines; she holds it out far enough into the light for the sun to keep her coffee luke warm. The left sleeve of her robe slides down to reveal a bumble bee tattoo on her wrist. In her right hand, she holds a phone that's ringing in the shadow.
A martial arts instructor invites himself onto the balcony. Impatiently frowning, he reminds the woman, while he's playfully pretending to throw punches in her vicinity, that, "Time is money, honey." The woman ignores him; she's answering the phone, "Hold on," she says into the phone. The instructor lowers his fists to his sides, stands next to the woman, and smirks, "Bee, why do they call you The Blinding Bee? Hah," She lowers the phone. While balancing it in her hand, she parts and stiffens two of her slender fingers into a v formation. The instructor continues, "you won't even step out into the sunshine. Is it your fancy dress that blinds - " Bee springs her hand up to the instructor's face lodging the two slender fingers into his eye sockets. "AAAGGH," his scream is cut short; the back of his head slams into the partially closed glass door between the balcony and the hotel room. The force of the backward jerk breaks glass and knocks him out cold.
Bee, closing all of her fingers over the phone again, notices fluid, "Eewww," begins to drip off of its flat screen. She lifts the phone back up to speak but keeps it at a distance from her lips, "Go on."
The phone voice of a man, "Is everything okay, my queen? I've got eyes on Tank."
Bee, "Don't get cute with me."
Phone voice, "Sorry, Bee. 10 minutes ago, I heard gunshots. One street over from where it must have happened, I couldn't see what went down, but I can tell you this, my queen -, I mean, Bee, the kid is either chasing Tank or the kid got shot. I'm watching Tank flag down a taxi - "
Bee, "The kid's sloppy. Either way, consider his contract cancelled. Are those sirens I'm hearing in the background?"
Phone voice, "Yes, Bee. I only see one cruiser on the street, no sound, just its lights flashing. One street over from where I'm sitting is where the fun seems to be, sounds like a battalion of cops. Hey, Bee - "
Bee, "Speak, you idiot." She's frowning at the ooze hardening on her two fingers.
Tank frantically waves for a cab driver's attention. Ralphie, "Wait!" - rushes and nearly catches up with the swiftly moving Tank.
Phone voice, "I've been trying to roll down my window to see if I can catch some conversation between Tank and a skinny runt who's tagging along behind him, but my window is stuck. I think the gadget thing in the door went haywire."
Bee huffs, "Do you think Tank talked? Nevermind. Jake, just make sure the 'skinny runt' doesn't see another tomorrow. Is it your turn to handle Tank, or what?"
The phone voice of Jake, "Will do, my -" Jake is still trying to roll down the window, "No problem, Bee. I'm also keeping my eye out for - "
Bee hangs up on Jake.
Jake, " - Red."
Red breaks glass. She thrusts her arms into Jake's old Chevrolet, clasps Jake's head in both hands, and twists savagely until she hears bone pop. She snatches up the fallen phone from his glass-riddled lap, and rushes to the other side of the car to crouch down out of sight from a police cruiser that's several blocks up the street. Tank, in a taxi, crouches down in the taxi's back seat as the police cruiser slowly passes by. Tank yanks Ralphie down to the taxi's floor to also hide him from a police officer's roving gaze.
The taxi driver, "You two know each other?" Ralphie, "Yah!" Tank, "No!" "You're a strange pair," the taxi driver muses, "Where to, my friends?" Tank, "Just drive, woncha, bud?"
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