Gun
Shy
by
Angela
It was too
early to be up. Ash stared at himself in
the dull mirror, running a hand through his hair in the hope that it would dry
faster. Pale sunlight forced its way
through the dirty window, and the light that bounced off the avocado tiles that
lined the tiny bathroom made his face look sickly green. He leaned down to the faucet and drank
deeply. The water was cold and metallic,
smelling of rust.
He pulled
his t-shirt over his head. It was
yesterday’s shirt, which pretty much cancelled out the cold-water bath he’d
taken in the chipped tub, but they’d been hiding out for the past twelve
hours--there hadn’t been time to round up a change of clothes. Shorter had managed to locate some threadbare
towels, but he hadn’t found too many extras in the apartment. He said he hadn’t used it in months. Ash could see why. The place was a dump.
Eiji was
still asleep. Ash had been tempted to
wake him, but decided against it. The
kid wasn’t used to this kind of lifestyle.
Hell, he probably wasn’t used to this kind of living arrangement. Ash imagined that it’d been nothing but soft
hotel mattresses and room service for him so far. He wondered why Eiji had given that up to
hide out with him.
No matter
the reason, it made Ash feel good.
He went out
into the hall, trying to muffle his steps on the creaky floor. His stomach growled. Maybe Shorter had been able to slip out for
provisions--none of them had eaten since lunch the day before. If anyone knew how to get around
The main
room was empty, and so was the tiny kitchen.
Ash flopped onto the couch. After
those weeks in prison, it was almost unnerving to be alone. Almost, but not quite. He smiled to himself as he gazed a nearby
window. The city was huge; he felt
anonymous and free. The smells of
He was
happy. Sure, there was a lot of work to
do--meeting Max Lobo only added fuel to his drive to discover the truth about
banana fish--but somehow sharing this crappy apartment with Shorter and Eiji
satisfied him. He’d had a sense of
suspended tranquility since waking that morning. Eiji had been sleeping peacefully in the bed
next to his and Shorter’s impatient snore could be heard from the living
room. Waking up like that made Ash feel
safe, safe like he hadn’t felt since before
A scraping
sound at the door yanked him from his thoughts.
He jerked up from the couch, his hand automatically reaching to the gun
that wasn’t tucked in the waistband of his jeans. As his hands gripped air, Ash’s eyes darted
frantically around the room for some kind of weapon.
The
deadbolt turned. The lock clicked.
“Luuucy! I’m home from de club!”
Shorter’s
voice. Ash let out his breath, falling
back and dropping his head on the flat pillows.
A moment
later his friend was walking past, pulling a bandana from his shaved head. “I picked up some groceries.” The paper bags thunked heavily on the
counter. Ash opened his eyes.
“Sounds
like some heavy food,” he commented dryly.
“Trying to give us indigestion?”
Shorter
bustled around the kitchen, not answering as he banged a wok onto the
stove. Ash listened as the wooden clunk
of the cutting board followed, then the rhythmic chop and swish of vegetables
being sliced. “You gonna talk to me?” he
asked mildly, finally sitting up to look at his friend over the back of the
couch.
Peering at
him from over the rim of his sunglasses, Shorter frowned. “Only if you get your ass off the couch and
help me out,” he complained. “You can
put the groceries away while I make breakfast.”
Getting off
the sofa took a bit more effort than Ash had expected--his limbs were heavy and
lazy with this new relaxation. He
trudged into the kitchen and peered into one of the bags. He blinked.
“What the hell’s all this?” he asked, looking closely at a plastic
bottle full of some kind of thick black sauce.
Another bottle held a blood-red liquid that looked like it had tiny
hands floating in it, and Ash wasn’t able to identify as single vegetable from
the bundle of produce. “I thought you
said you got food.”
Shorter
laughed. “Come on, Ash! You’ve eaten enough Chinese food to have had
these things a hundred times over! Stop
complaining and put them in the fridge!”
Supposing
that Shorter was right, that he just wasn’t familiar with the ingredients in
their uncooked forms, Ash did as he was told.
The second bag had toiletries--toothpaste! shampoo!--and
something heavier, wrapped in newspaper.
“What’s this?” he asked, knowing as soon as his fingers touched it what
the answer would be.
“The police
still have your piece, right?” Shorter
dumped some rice from cardboard takeout boxes into the wok. “I figured you’d need another one fast, so I
scared one up for you.”
Ash stared
at the pistol. It was an automatic
weapon--easy to use and easy to carry.
The serial numbers had been carefully filed off. He palmed it, testing its weight and
feel. He aimed at a distant spot on the
wall, then shook his head. “This won’t work for me,” he said
softly. He was grateful for the
gesture--Shorter was hiding out, too, and knew to avoid his old haunts and
contacts. He’d gone out on a limb to get
this for Ash, but it didn’t feel right.
“I can get one of my old guns from Alex, once I get a hold of him. We can give this one to Eiji.”
His friend
looked up from his cooking, concern blatant on his face. “D’ya think he needs one?” Shorter asked carefully. “The kid’s never held a gun in his life. It might not be a good idea to--“
“He’s got
to be able to keep himself alive. Eiji
will slow us down if we have to cover him all the time.” It still ached inside when Ash thought about
Skip--he didn’t want to feel the same kind of heaviness again just because Eiji
needed to prove himself. In a way,
Shorter was right--it’d be better to keep Eiji out of everything, to send him
back to Ibe and back to
Shorter
didn’t answer for a long time. He went
back to his fried rice, expertly flipping it around faster than Ash’s eyes could
keep up.
Ash looked
away, tucking the pistol into the waistband of his jeans. Shorter would understand; he knew a liability
when he saw one. He found a
clean-looking glass in the cupboard and turned on the faucet. The pipes thumped and groaned, and eventually
a trickle of water emerged. Ash filled
his glass and took a swig. Rust again,
but better than some of the water he’d drank in the past.
“You really
like him, don’t you?” Shorter was
staring with an inscrutable look.
“Eiji?”
He scowled,
turning quickly to tend to breakfast.
“Who the hell else would I mean?”
Heat
flooded Ash’s face. “But . . . you know I like girls,” he protested.
“I wouldn’t
think the two are necessarily mutually exclusive,” Shorter responded dryly,
cracking an egg into the sizzling wok.
“I’ve seen the way you look at him, the way you let your guard down when
he’s around.”
Ash didn’t
answer. He couldn’t. He wanted to protest, but knew he’d never
beat Shorter in an argument about emotions.
The guy was like a shrink with all of his observations and advice. Ash didn’t like that his friend had taken his
sense of responsibility for the kid, his sense of gratitude for what he’d done,
and twisted it into something like that.
Shorter continued cooking, all the while watching Ash closely. “Besides,” he said, smirking, “if you don’t
like him the way I meant, then why did you right away assume that’s how I meant
it?”
“Think what you like,” Ash told his
friend tightly, setting his glass on the counter with a loud clunk. “I’m still gonna give him the gun.”
“Breakfast
in twenty,” the bald teenager called merrily over his shoulder. He knew he’d won the argument; Ash could hear
it in his voice.
When he
slipped back into the bedroom, he was still trying to shake the uneasy feeling
the conversation had brought on. So much for relaxation and that lingering sense of tranquility. Now his stomach was tied in knots and his
head was starting to hurt. The worst
part was that he knew better than to let Shorter get to him like that.
Eiji was
still sleeping. His hair was a riot of dark
strands on the pillow, and he had somehow tangled himself in the sheets. Ash smiled.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly, so secure in
his own safety. He sat on the opposite bed,
leaning against the wall as he watched Eiji sleep. The kid was good looking--probably pretty
popular with the girls back in
He
remembered that jump in the alley--the way he’d planted that pipe and the
graceful arch of his back as he sailed over the wall. Ash had felt a sense of awe that still
lingered. He hadn’t felt that kind of
respect for anyone except
The boy
mumbled something in Japanese, rolling over in his sleep to grasp at the pillow
like it was a teddy bear. Or a lover.
Ash ran a
hand through his hair, uncomfortable with the fact that the idea even spilled
into his thoughts--Shorter had messed with his mind a bit more than he thought. A kid like that was too young for a
lover--not in years, but in experience.
Even Ash had never had a lover, not in any mutual sense. That kind of bond was dangerous in Ash’s
world--he could barely fathom being able to trust someone enough to willingly
get that close.
Unbidden,
the memory of the kiss infused his mind.
Eiji had
responded willingly; Ash had barely had to coax the boy’s mouth open to give
him the capsule. Ash flushed hotly at
the recollection, despite being practically alone in the room. Of course, Ash was skilled--maybe Eiji had
been responding to his professional mastery of kissing, rather than to
him. The idea made him feel a bit . .
. angry.
Ash shook
his head; this was stupid. What did it
matter why Eiji let him kiss him? He
forced his mind away from the subject, wishing he could similarly banish the
lingering sense of disquiet that came along with it.
“Hey,” Ash
said softly, deciding it was time to wake the boy. He didn’t move. He touched his friend’s arm, careful not to
startle him too much. “Eiji.”
Nothing. Ash scowled,
pushing harder. “Eiji, wake up!”
He shifted
in his sleep, one had coming up to rub his eyes. “Jus’ a li’l bit
longer . . .”
This kid
was unbelievable! Deciding to have a bit
of fun at Eiji’s expense, he pulled the pistol from his waistband. He checked the safety and aimed. The barrel was inches from his friend’s
closed eyes. Ash cleared his throat.
Even before
his eyes opened completely, Ash saw Eiji’s whole body stiffen--every muscle
seeming to flex beneath the thin sheet.
His eyes flew open, at once guarded and angry, and Ash realized he’s
never seen that kind of expression on him before. For a second he looked tough.
“You awake
now?”
Those dark
brown eyes flicked up in surprise to Ash’s face and suddenly his whole demeanor
changed. The anger and fear in his face
faded and his eyes became trusting and amused.
His mouth pulled up into a grin.
Ash’s heart
skipped a beat.
Eiji
laughed. “You really scared me!” he
protested good-naturedly, his face flushing.
“That’s a bad joke!”
Ash could
barely focus. His mind was skittering
all over the place, lingering over the contours of Eiji’s face, the messy
spikes of his hair. The familiar surge
of protective emotions swirled with something new, something frightening and
comforting at the same time.
This was
not the time to analyze it.
“This is
for you,” Ash answered, flipping the gun in his hand and handing it to
Eiji. Eiji didn’t take it, just looked
at him with wide eyes. “Use it to defend
yourself,” he said brusquely, pushing the pistol into
his friend’s hand.
Eiji didn’t
say anything, but his expression--half surprised and half lost--made Ash
soften. He couldn’t remember how he felt
the first time he held a gun, but it couldn’t have been easy. He carefully taught Eiji how to use it--how
to load and how to shoot. Target
practice would have to come later--assuming they had time for it.
“When the
shooting starts, I won’t be able to protect you.” Emotion made Ash’s voice unusually
harsh. He looked into Eiji’s eyes,
nervous of what he thought he saw there.
“You’ve got to protect yourself,” he said in a more even tone.
Eiji stared
straight into his face, his eyes doubtful but unwavering. He licked his lips. “Okay,” he said nervously.
Ash
smirked. “Don’t look so glum. In five minutes, breakfast will be
ready. Shorter’s making it--Chinese
style.” He reached for the doorknob and
took one last look at his friend, warily holding a gun amidst rumpled bedsheets. “Get
dressed,” he advised.
He leaned
on the door as soon as he closed it, taking a deep breath and looking at the
cracked ceiling as he listened to Eiji’s muffled movements inside. His breath came out in a ragged sigh, and he
realized that he’d been holding it. What
the hell was going on? His hands started
to shake.
You really like him, don’t you?
When
Shorter posed the question, Ash’s mind had immediately jumped to the
complicated, romantic, sexual form of liking that he’d worked hard to avoid for
most of his life. Of course he’d denied
it. His stomach lurched uncomfortably. There was no real reason for Shorter to
suspect he’d be interested in another guy--it wasn’t the sort of conclusion
he’d jump to easily. Ash had spent a lot
of time with a lot of guys in his life, and not once did Shorter accuse him of
being in love.
Until Eiji.
And then
there was the way Eiji looked at him--the way his fearful look melted into
absolute trust. Eiji believed in him
completely, and he was at a loss to understand why.
It was
almost too much to deal with. He shook
his head, deciding that too much was at stake for him to be distracted
now. He’d just have to work that much harder
to keep Eiji safe so they could figure it out when everything was done.
Back in the
kitchen, Ash dropped unceremoniously into a chair at the table. The chipped Formica was grey and flecked with
shiny bits of teal--it looked like a Leave
it to Beaver cast-off and was probably as old. Shorter was tossing something in the dented
wok and a bamboo steamer rested on a pot of water on the back burner. The whole place smelled like a Chinese
restaurant and Ash’s stomach growled.
Prison food had been adequate, but bland. It would be a nice change to start the day
with a real meal.
Shorter
smiled over his shoulder when he heard his friend come in. “Did you wake our little prince?” he asked
good-naturedly, seeming to forget their earlier conversation.
Ash
couldn’t resist a smile. Shorter was
soft with Eiji--it was almost endearing.
“Yeah,” he answered easily, eyeing the dishes Shorter pulled out of the
cabinet. They were chipped and dingy and
they made him wonder how Shorter ended up with this crummy old apartment in the
first place. “He was hard to get up,
though. Kid sleeps like the dead.”
Shorter
laughed. “You don’t get that much out
here, huh?” he asked. Both he and Ash
had learned at a very early age that waking up alert and ready to go could mean
the difference between life and death.
He rubbed and hand over his head, his mouth twitching playfully. “Is that why you were in there so long? The kid took a little coaxing?”
His
insinuation was obvious. Ash ignored it.
“We have a
lot to do today, and I still have to find a gun. Any chance we’ll get to eat before sunset?” He knew he sounded surly and defensive, but
there wasn’t much he could do about it.
He didn’t want to talk about Eiji, particularly in the way that Shorter
wanted to.
“Good
morning, Ash. Good morning, Shorter.”
For an
instant, Ash’s breath caught. He wasn’t
used to being startled, but Eiji’s voice had somehow managed it. He twisted in his seat. Eiji stood in the doorway, his hair damp and
his shirt open. It was strange how, with
his clothes on, he looked so small and harmless, but as soon as you got a
glimpse of his tightly muscled chest and arms, it was clear the boy was an
athlete. He stood awkwardly, combing his
hair with his fingers. “I am not too
late for breakfast?” he asked hopefully.
“Too much activity has made me starving.”
“I was just
about to serve,” Shorter said jovially, his face alight in a private joke. He winked at Ash over his sunglasses, leaving
Eiji politely bewildered, but smiling.
Shorter had
made fried rice and a delicious-looking meat dish in a dark sauce. Steamed buns complimented the meal, and Ash
couldn’t wait to eat. He filled his
glass with water as the others poured tea.
“Dig in,” the cook encouraged, filling their plates.
It burned. Ash’s eyes watered with the heat of it. He choked down the first bite and
grimaced. “You didn’t say it’d be so
spicy,” he protested, gulping his water.
Shorter
looked nervous. “Spicy, huh?” he asked
cautiously, looking warily at his dish.
Eiji coughed. “Chinese food in
Eager to
try a safer route, Shorter reached for a bun.
“Ahh, but dim
sum is hard to screw up, right?” he asked, grinning. He took a huge bite, but ran to the trash to
spit it out as soon as he’d tasted it.
“How the hell did it get so sweet?” he asked, outraged.
Eiji
laughed first. He tried to hide it; Ash
saw him cover his mouth and choke back the first giggle. Shorter was making gagging sounds into the
sink, his sunglasses forgotten on the counter.
The Japanese boy made a quick face at Ash behind their friend’s back and
suddenly Ash felt laughter welling up inside him, too.
“Shut up,”
Shorter protested between hacking coughs.
“Nadia cooks at home!”
That only
made them laugh harder, and in time, Shorter conceded with a chuckle of his
own. Five minutes later they were trying
to salvage any edible bits, still sniggering and snorting when eyes met. Ash discovered that, when rinsed of its fiery
sauce, the meat was actually palatable.
Eiji experimented with using the sweet buns to cancel out the spice.
With a
grin, Shorter’s eyes found Ash’s over the table. Ash smiled, content
once more as he had been that morning.
Eiji looked up suddenly, his dark eyes alight
with happiness.
.