2.     Help Wanted

[Eleven Months Earlier]

Smokin’ Joe’s was dusty and dark, not quite dingy and just shy of respectable. It was a quiet bar, its clientele coming not to brawl, but to drown their sorrows in expensive, quasi-legal intoxicants while pouring out their tales of woe to Joe, a robust looking lady in her late sixties, the manager and antithesis of empathetic bartenders.

Joe pulled the customers in, her magic-like charm an uncanny ability to tell it like it was. Peculiar honesty that called Rick in day after day to share an afternoon drink with the lady before heading out for work.

Today, though, it was business and he forewent his usual seat at the bar for a dark corner lit only by lamplight.

“You say the kid is good?” Eyes never leaving the exit, Rick spoke to his companion, his voice soft.

“The best amateur, Rick. But I still don’t know why you messin’ around in the slops though. You know any of the usual crowd’d work with you. Tiernie-”

Setting his glass down, Rick turned to his companion. “I don’t want a reg. Watchers, Moss. They’ve all been staked. I want a newbie, someone fresh, someone with out a tail. This boy you’ve recommended sounds good. If a little late…” Raising his wrist to check the time, Rick found bare skin where his watch should have been.

“What the-“ He looked up at Moss, who simply smiled from across the table, his crooked teeth making him appear shark-like.

“Good enough to lift a watch off a pro? The kid’s a natural Rick and he nabbed your timepiece a coupla seconds after you walked in the door.”

A heady mixture of disbelief and awe washed through Rick. He’ d been picked. By an amateur. “Gods above Moss, who is this kid? Where is he?”

Moss’s smile grew, though it hardly seemed possible. With a grand gesture, he waved his arm towards the bar. A blonde man raised his glass in a silent toast, a playful smile on his face. Kid looked no more than twenty, if that.

“Damn, Moss, but he looks like he’s just left his teens. I don’t work with kids-“

“Twenty-two, Rick, passed his teens years ago. Name’s Laurie Johns. He’s what you’re after, if you wanna introduction.”

Rick stared into his glass, swirling the liquid as he considered. He needed this job, before he found himself growing a tail of his own. He needed off planet and fast. Raising his head, he nailed Moss with a hard stare. “He clean?”

“Sure, sure. No record.” Moss’s arms moved as if of their own accord, snaking about in the air before him. The man was fond of gesticulating, despite the fact that it made him look like a has-been game show host. With his red suit on, it was easy to draw the comparison and not for the first time, Rick wondered if he should get another contact. One that wasn’t so conspicuous, perhaps one that didn’t scream ‘hood’ just by his very appearance.

Too late for that now.

“Send him over on your way out, Moss. Yeah,” Rick talked fast, intercepting the other man before he could interrupt, “if I bring him in, you get your finder’s fee and a cut of the job. Now, go, send the kid over.”

“Moss tells me you’re after an entrance man.” Not a question, Rick noted, but a statement of fact. The kid had some confidence that was for sure.

“Moss says a lot of things, kid.”

“It’s Laurie, Laurie John’s. Ah-”

“Rick. Just Rick.”

Laurie smiled and Rick felt relief upon seeing a set of straight, white teeth. “Well, Just Rick, tell me what skills you need and I’ll tell you what skills I have.”

Rick laughed, delighted to find that the kid possessed something of a sense of humour. That he would loose quick enough. “You got a set of balls on ya, kid. If you can work a lock and I’m talking any lock here, metal, combination, key, computerised, card-swipe, retina scan, the works, then I’m interested.

“I want someone fast on their feet, not just literally either. I need a quick mind, someone who is cool under pressure, makes smart choices. What I don’t want is a shiv happy wanna-be, who leaves a trail of corpses behind ‘cause he doesn’t have the skills to do a heist right.” He leaned forward, closing the distance between then. Laurie did not flinch and did not move away. The kid sat before him, calm as a Kertani whore tripped out on Tranquillity. Good. Rick knew that he was intimidating and the kid was on his turf and comfortable with that. Perhaps he would do.

“I need someone who understands the necessity of silence. I don’t want questions. When I say do this, you do it. No questions and no hesitation. You think you can do that?” Laurie met Rick’s hard gaze with one of his own.

“I can more than do that, otherwise Moss wouldn’t have sent me.”

Rick nodded and conceded the point. “Fine, kid. I do have one more condition though. Call it my Golden Rule.” Reaching under the table, Rick unclipped a small gauge from its snug bed in an ankle holster. He placed the gun on the table, eyes ever watchful as Laurie’s body went rigid.

“No stealing from me Kid. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories… don’t find out if they are real.”

With a small nod, Laurie slowly reached into his pocket and placed Rick’s watch on the table.

“Good, we’ll work a few jobs together, test your skills and all of that. I think it could work.”

Laurie twitched in his seat, wringing his hands over the tabletop. “I, uh, have one condition.”

“Oh?” Rick said, folding his arms. “And just what is that?”

“My name’s Laurie, not Kid.”

Rick laughed, slapping his hands on the table. “I like you kid. You’ve got some balls on you. Fine, Laurie it is. Tomorrow, we work out details. Tonight, we drink.”