Birth of a Monster (18 page)

A lot of policemen would
probably like to avenge their fallen comrades.

And in the process, Mr.
Hoffmeyer would get his city back.

Chapter 33

When Tats had left his house the
afternoon he was to go chain the doors to the police station shut
in broad daylight—for what end, he did not know, but he had a hunch
it wasn’t to kick off a lock-in party—he had left one of his
swiftest horses tied up at home stocked with everything he would
need for the three-week vacation mandated by Mr. Brass.

This included a few sets of clothes,
provisions for him and the horse, and, most importantly,
money.

As he set off for Sodorf City, it was
with a much different mentality than the one he had last time. On
that occasion, he had been charged with tracking down his sister,
whom he hadn’t seen in years, in a city he had never seen, and all
to broker a business arrangement that he knew would make or break
him in the eyes of Mr. Brass.

He had been apprehensive, unconfident,
and just eager to get the whole thing over with as quickly as
possible.

While he certainly had his share of
nervousness this time, it was of a wholly different nature. He
didn’t really think of this so much as a trip to go see Sodorf
City. This was a trip to go see Rose.

While perhaps the pulse of any man in
his early twenties will accelerate rapidly at the prospect of an
amorous encounter, several factors coalesced in his mind like large
clouds over a prairie turning into a tornado of unbridled
passion.

One day ago, he had been sitting in a
nearly pitch-black cell facing the strong possibility of forty hard
years in a similar dungeon with nothing to fill his days but the
memories of his short life as a free man.

Now, he had a million falons in his
saddlebags as spending money while he set off to unashamedly rent
the object of his desires. A different man might have struggled
beneath the weight of devising the best strategy for conquering his
love. A bouquet of fresh flowers, an exquisite necklace, the right
phrase—like arrows in a quiver he would fire them wildly at the
heart he sought to make his, hoping that one would fly
true.

But Tats had the luck of being an
enamored with one available to purchase, and thus he galloped
southwestward with the confidence of a consumer rather than the
apprehensions of a suitor.

Alas, his mind was not all clear.
Perhaps, Rose would decide he was too complicated a patron for her,
regardless of his ability to pay. After all, it was surely not a
nightly occurrence for a client to propose marriage and later talk
her into showing him the residence of her frightening employer, in
the process of which she ended up nearly being kidnapped and was
then a forced guest at her boss’s home.

Rose may have considered that to be a
sign her luck was running out in the flesh profession or that it
was at least time to seek a change of venue.

Every such thought served as a more
powerful stimulant to Tats’ senses than Smokeless Green had during
his last trip, and while perhaps the effect was slightly reduced
for his horse, Valiant, the noble animal seemed to sense his
master’s eagerness to arrive at their destination and accommodated
him by adding some celerity to his gait.

Tats slept maybe five hours that night,
mostly for the benefit of Valiant, and in the morning they were off
with the rising sun.

That evening, Tats entered the city,
heart palpitating more quickly now, but he couldn’t help but notice
that, if it seemed the city had an energy to it last time, that was
nothing to what he sensed now. New businesses were springing up
everywhere, and he didn’t think he saw a single vacant
building.

He was glad he remembered the location
of Rose’s place of employment because if he hadn’t had his eyes
peeled once he reached the general vicinity he could have easily
rode right by the establishment and been none the wiser.

It had been given a fresh coat of paint
and had two large statues added outside of the nude female form.
Also, a sign had been added:

COLD DRINKS, WARM TOUCH

The optimistic part of him
was half-expecting to see Rose open the door to greet him. The
pessimistic part expected to see a frown and hear some half-hearted
lie such as,
Rose? Don’t recall anyone by
that name workin’ here
, by a shifty
bartender refusing to look him in the eye.

He had about $100,000 in hidden
compartments in his coat, and the rest was in a secret compartment
inside his horse’s saddle, which was secured to the animal by steel
cables hidden within the leather that would thwart all but the most
prepared thief.

He walked inside, and to his surprise
the bartender seemed to recognize him immediately. It was no doubt
due to overhearing through the grapevine that his cigar-smoking
client was the brother of his fearsome boss.

“Cigar for you, sir?”

No, I want something taller
and sweeter,
he almost said, but instead
approached the bar coyly.

In the softest voice he could muster
while still being heard over the noise of the crowd he said, “Is
Rose here?”

“Ha! You
like
that girl, now don’t ya?! Ha!” he
said with a good-natured tone that removed any offense from the
remarks.

“Yes, sir,” Tats said, seeing no reason
to be either sly or hostile towards the old-timer. “But I’ve got
money; it’s all professional.”

“Well, maybe I can interest you in
Sarah or Heather over there,” he said with a crafty glance towards
two gorgeous women seated about a dozen feet away. They caught the
glance, and Tats knew if he wasn’t careful he’d have an easier time
getting rid of sticky molasses than them.

He pulled a hundred-falon bill out of
his left sleeve quicker than a veteran card cheat and pushed it
forward.

“They look mighty fine, sir, but I am a
man of a singular aim tonight,” Tats said firmly.

“Well,” said the old-timer raising his
eyebrows, “she’s here, but she’s with somebody.”

A quick stab of jealousy in Tats’ heart
was quickly repulsed by his intellect reminding him of her
profession and of the lack of any relationship between them, and
the two entities settled for a reluctant, and temporary,
truce.

“Maybe he’d decide he’s got better
things to do tonight if given the proper incentive,” Tats said,
pushing a thousand-falon bill towards the bartender, who did not
even see him pluck it from his sleeve.

“Weeeellll, it ain’t exactly protocol,”
the rascal said with feigned reluctance.

“Are you forgetting who I’m related
to?” Tats said with a menace in his voice and three more
thousand-falon bills in his hand.

He looked hard into the bartender’s
eyes and saw a gulp.

“Easy there, Mr. Havensford—I think
what you’ve got in your hand could persuade him.”

Tats pushed the money over.

“Just one moment, sir.”

The bartender headed upstairs like a
courier with an important package to deliver, and another bartender
seemingly materialized out of nowhere.

“What will it be, mister?” he asked
jovially.

“One of your finest cigars,” Tats said
matter-of-factly, pushing forward a hundred-falon bill. “Keep the
change.”

The bartender’s eyes grew several sizes
before he said, “You betcha!” and hustled off towards a glass
cabinet with a gold-plated lock.

He extracted a fine specimen and
brought it over to Tats and had struck a match by the time Tats put
it into his mouth.

Tats took a long draw, glad to have
something to distract himself with while he awaited the results of
the previous bartender’s bargaining powers.

Before he had begun to even fully savor
the cigar, he saw the man practically hopping down the stairs as he
came briskly towards Tats.

“Room 15, sir,” he said with a gleam in
his eye.

Tats set the cigar on an ashtray and
began walking upstairs.

On the way, he passed a
rascally looking fellow in a hurry whose faced seemed to
say,
I better get out of here before they
ask for that money back!

Tats was on no lazy stroll himself. He
ascended the stairs as quickly as he could without becoming a
spectacle, but he only counted two blinks before his legs gulped
down the stairs and brought him to the second floor.

He began quickly walking down the
hallway, minding the numbers as he went.

When he saw Room 15, he
knocked.

“Who is it?” came the slightly nervous
voice.

It was Rose.

Putting manners to the side, Tats
opened up.

Rose was frantically putting makeup and
perfume on.

“You know you don’t need that to look
beautiful!” Tats said.

Rose turned, her saucer-like eyes
revealing she didn’t expect him to be mysterious client who had
just paid the equivalent of a week’s wages just to push her client
out of the way.

Tats’ body was tingling with so much
electricity he feared he just might zap her to death the second his
fingertips touched her body.

Her saucer-like eyes quickly resumed
the feisty look he had fallen for so quickly the first time he had
seen her, and she said in a business-like fashion, “That money you
paid all went to the client, at least the part Baldy didn’t
pilfer.”

“That’s okay,” Tats said calmly. “How
much will this get me?” he inquired in a business-like manner of
his own, handing her $30,000.

Her eyes grew to dinner plates for a
split second before she got her feistiness back, but this time it
was of a much more playful nature.

“Whatever you want,” she said, looking
at him with a challenge in her eye like a deadly female tiger
daring its male suitor to test the waters and see if he is reading
her signals properly or is on the verge of a stinging slash across
the face.

The two launched themselves at each
other with a passion Tats quickly assured himself could not have
come from the money alone, although it wouldn’t have made a
particularly large difference at the time.

Their clothes were off in the time it
takes most people to kick off a shoe, and after that what ensued
could be compared to a two-hour rodeo with little
exaggeration.

When it was all done, Tats said, “How
much do you normally make per week?”

Rose blushed, contemplating not whether
to lie but by how much. He had already paid her about six times
what she earned in a week.

“Why?”

“I might be in town for a few
weeks.”

“It’s not wise to talk about what you
can’t afford,” she said, trying to sound coy, but terrified he
might lose interest.

“How about $100,000—half upfront, half
at the end?”

Rose’s heart was beating really fast
now. She had never met a client with a scintilla of his cash who
was inclined to spend more than an hour or two’s worth on
her.

“Don’t make fun of me,” she said,
perhaps with only ten percent guile.

She heard some shuffling of papers but
dared not turn and look.

“Does this look like a joke?” Tats
asked.

She was looking at fifty crisp
one-thousand falon bills.

She knew she better say yes before this
fool regained his senses.

Casually, as if she had felt fifty such
bills in her hand more times than she cared to remember, she said,
“You have to provide the place, and I don’t room cheap.”

“You pick it,” Tats said, matter-of
factly.

“I’ll have to hand a third
of it over to the bartender,” she said, with a tone that
said,
I don’t suppose you care about
that.

“I’ll take care of the bartender. What
I gave you is yours and yours alone.”

Out of excuses, her fear now was only
that she was going to fall for this man.