The Artful (Shadows of the City) (4 page)

We legged it through midtown, down 34th street, making our way straight to 42nd. We could lose them in Times Square. I knew that’s what Dodger was thinking. At one time in history, it would have been impossible to wisp through the streets of midtown; human traffic would hold you up for what seemed like days. People shopping and sightseeing, walking around enjoying the life they no doubt took for granted, all the flashing lights and sights to see, not one care in the world. Now the streets lay abandoned and destroyed. Storefronts shattered and looted, broken-down cars, and skeletal remains were all that was left. Some shops had
keep away
or
no water
signs. Some top dwellers tended to be territorial; we tried to steer clear of those buildings.

Dodger and I ran through lanes of cars, trying to make life as difficult as possible for the Suits. They were persistent; they usually didn’t bother leaving their territory. A couple of blocks out from the Empire State Building, and they would normally turn around. But this lot weren’t giving up the chase. Luckily, they weren’t firing at us either
. Small miracles
.

We were fast approaching the decaying Jumbotron TV that stood guard over Times Square. Someone had managed to spray paint
Lawless
over the screen. Times Square was run by the Lawless; it was their territory. Anything went in Times Square and its surrounding blocks. Because of the treaty Mayor Reynolds drew up a couple of years back, no form of law enforcement was allowed in. He always said it was to put a stop to the rioting that was going on at the time, but others believed there was an ulterior motive, one that had to do with trafficking drugs and humans. It was hard to tell from casual observation, but children and adults hid behind windows, waiting for any sign of law. They would have trained guns or sling shots ready for Suits foolish enough to cross the lines. My heart skipped. We only had a little further to go. The Suits would have to turn around; they wouldn’t risk a breach in the treaty.

We reached the 42nd and 8th Avenue street sign. An abandoned car was wrapped around it, airbags deployed and covered in dried blood. We leaned against the post, gasping for air. The Suits stopped across the street, sneering and baiting us to come across. We held firm, like we had reached the safe spot in a game of tag. Dodger hunched over, grabbing at his stomach. He managed only to once again flip them the finger, too out of breath to do anything more. He patted me on the back, and we casually walked away toward 7th Avenue, opposite our enraged pursuers.

“What now?” I asked.

“Guess we stick around here, ‘till they get bored.” Dodger said.

“What you wanna do?”

“I dunno. Catch a flick?”

We made our way to the Regal, the only movie theater not reduced to rubble. Sure, there were no movies playing. But Dodger and I liked to sit on the dusty seats, staring up at the huge blank screens, talking about old movies we’d seen as kids before everything went to crap, scene for scene, as if we were watching them on the big screen. The little things were easiest to enjoy, grasping at those tenuous memories that threatened to fade away, embracing them. The glass doors were long busted, so we walked right in. Dodger strolled over to the counter and leaned in, as if looking for a snack to order.

“Hey, look, someone left some sweets!” Dodger said, like he always did, going behind the concession stand where he’d hidden a stash of old candy long ago.

“Dude, they’re probable expired or something,” I said.

“Do sweets expire?”

“I’m pretty sure they do.”

He was filling his deep pockets with boxes of Raisinets and a Snickers bar. “Jeez, it’s the last Snickers.” He looked up at the screen that used to display the movie show times. “Ah, shoot, we missed the nine o’clock of
Debby Does Dallas
!” he said, like he always did, thinking his joke never got old.

“It’s only nine now!” I protested.

“Don’t wanna miss the trailers.”

“How about the 9:15 of
Titanic
?”

“Are you gonna cry again?”

“I didn’t cry! That was Smith! Besides, I heard this version has 3D Zombies added to all the sappy bits!”

“Nice, let’s go.”

A shiny BMW pulled up in front of the movie theater. It was polished and sparkling silver, the rims were dull chrome and the windows tinted black. We hadn’t seen a working car in some time; it was quite the treat. I figured the passengers must have come from one of the towers. It wasn’t uncommon for a Tower Baby to venture out into Times Square; males and females were commodities that could be bought there. Tower Babies bored with the monotony of their posh lifestyles enjoyed toying with the occasional street urchin, fulfilling twisted desires. I had once known a kid who was paid to dress up as Princess Leia and reenact the Jabba scene from
Star Wars
. He said it was good money, but it never sat well with me.

The car was rocking back and forth; Dodger looked at me with a sly smile. “If the room’s a’ rockin,’ don’t come a’ knockin.” We both laughed and watched the car bounce on its wheels, imagining the sordid fantasies being played out inside. We were about to turn and head up to our viewing room when we heard a scream and froze. We turned around to find the BMW’s passenger side door open a bit. Another scream escaped before the door slammed shut.

“Think it’s part of the act?” I asked. Lots of the Tower Babies liked it when their prize fought back. It wasn’t unusual, and, with the right amount of pay, anything was possible.

“Dunno,” he said half-heartedly. I could already see the wheels turning in his head. Another scream was quickly quieted. The car bounced one last time.

Before I could speak, Dodger was on the move. He picked up one of the old posts used to separate the ticket lines. With a very determined stride, he walked over to the car. He climbed onto the hood and then the roof. He raised the post over his head, smiled at me, and brought it crashing down onto the windshield. The window cracked, sending jagged lines in all directions. He raised the post again and brought it down once more, very pleased with the sound of shattering glass. Leaving the post lodged in the windshield, he stood up straight, resting his hands on his hips.

The door shot open, and a well-dressed, overweight man stepped out, his pants unzipped. He fumbled with his belt, his hair a mess and a fresh scratch across his left cheek. His look of utter fury was almost comical. He reminded me of Porky Pig.

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted, tucking his silk shirt into his pants.

“Looks like I’m saving the day!” Dodger said with a curtsy.

Porky swung his ham-like hands at Dodger’s feet, who merely side-stepped them. “Twist, see who’s in there.”

I walked out into the open, unsure. Porky turned around, face red with rage. He was having trouble breathing and made to step toward me. Before he could, Dodger jumped onto his back, straddling him like a wild horse, arm around his neck and hand covering his eyes. Every now and then, Dodger would smack the guy’s ass.

“Go, Twist, now,” he yelled. The man stumbled sideways, then threw himself backward, his entire weight landing on poor Dodge.

I ran over to the car and opened the door. A young girl was huddled in the corner, covering herself with a shirt she held against her chest. She looked pathetic and terrified. But something about her was so beautiful. I couldn’t tell you if it was the gleam of her tanned skin, the green of her eyes, or the painstakingly-cared-for hair. Red, with strands of black and blue fell artlessly about her face to her shoulders. I held out a hand to her. She cowered away from me. I noticed her lip was busted, blood trickling down her chin.

“It’s okay, we got you.”

Within an instant, her face went from helpless fawn to enraged lioness; she shuffled out of the seat and pushed me out of the way. Her shirt fell to the ground. Wearing only a tattered skirt, fishnet stockings, and a bra, she marched over to Dodger and the struggling man.

In a past life, she must have played sports, because the force with which she kicked Porky in the groin could have sent a soccer ball clear across two fields. I cringed. Her steel-toed combat boots only made it worse. She yelled a string of obscenities as she continued to kick him over and over again.

Dodger wrestled his way out from under Porky and backed away, covering his jewels with his hands, no doubt also feeling the phantom pains.

Her assailant rolled around, begging for mercy. After I had enough of the display, I placed a hand on her shoulder. She violently shrugged me off and turned her anger on me.

I jumped back, covering my groin in protection. “It’s okay, we were trying to help!”

“You wench!” the man yelled from the ground.

Dodger walked over and punched him in the face, laying him out cold.

She stood, her chest heaving in and out. Her look of rage melted away, and soon only sorrow was left. She crumpled to the ground in a sitting position and sobbed. I gathered up her shirt and handed it to her. With a reddening face, she swiped it and put it on.

Dodger came over. He was always one to break the silence. “So what happened? Weren’t you on the clock?”

The glare she shot him sent a shiver down my spine. “I’m not a prostitute! I… well… it’s not the same.” She lost confidence in her argument. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. They told me I had to keep him company, nothing physical, just keep him company, that’s all.”

Dodger tapped the side of his head. “You’re not that bright, huh?”

“Jeez come on, man!” I gave him a pleading look.

“What? I’m just saying, it doesn’t take a genius―”

“Anyway,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“I still taste his tongue!” She spat a glob of clear fluid onto Porky’s head.

“I’m Twist.”

“I’m Dodger.”

“And we’re the Gutter Punks!” We both yelled in sync. “Stealing from the rich and protecting the poor―”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” She squinted up at us, trying to avoid the sun’s glare.

“Most are,” Dodger said.

“Well, no… I was just introducing…” I felt my cheeks warm up.

“Gia.” She rolled her eyes at me.

“What a bitch.” Dodger walked away.

Gia took a step after him. “What did you say?”

“Oh, sorry. I thought I whispered when I called you a bitch.” He shrugged.

“Screw you!” She stuck her middle finger in his face.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He gave her a cocky smile. To me, he pointed towards the entrance. “Come on, Twist, let’s go.”

He headed back into the theater. I paced behind, glancing back at Gia, expecting her to stop us. Instead, she flipped me off and began fiddling with her boot straps. Porky started coming to, but she swiftly kicked him in the side of the head. Dodger yelled for me to catch up before we missed the show. After one last glance at Gia, I ran after him.

e sat in the empty theater, staring up at the white screen, waiting for a movie that would never start.