Ch. 70 – Expect Nothing, Get Something

The rally had been going on for a while. The crowd in the barbershop had broken into large groups of people, some of which had spilled out into the streets. Derrick leaned back against the brick wall, only to hear the sound of mortar crumbling above him. Specks of mortar and brown dust had fallen onto the back of his shirt. He shook and swept them off, and then settled back on a different spot on the barbershop’s wall, next to Sally. There had thankfully been room on the side of the shop away from the makeshift bathroom alley, so that they could sip on some bottled water—brought by a volunteer helping with the rally—without smelling piss in the air.

A stranger wouldn’t have guessed that Tony had just come from the hospital, judging by how he marched from person to person, gestured, and guffawed, trying to drum up business. It was as if he really was trying to claw back the connections he’d lost over the years, when he’d been drunk out of his mind, and bringing bar girls home. Regardless of whether Tony had actually been heartened by Xian’s plan for Chinatown, or just been inspired from watching Xian hustle some haircuts as the rally was going on, it was a refreshing change.

Some of the business owners in Chinatown would have contacts with the suppliers that operated around the New Shore City area, and Hack Alley sorely missed the favorable treatment that they used to have with suppliers, so many years ago. If Tony actually built some working relationships, they could take on all the jobs they’d had to turn down because the parts were unavailable.

“What do you think about Xian, and this whole . . . business, after what we’ve seen tonight?” Derrick asked Sally.

Sally brushed her bangs out of her eyes, and then shook her head, which only brought them back into her eyes. “Tony seems happy. Or at least hopeful. I’m glad, but I don’t think we can trust those developers and business people that Xian wants to work with. When people live to chase after money, nothing else seems to matter. And I’ve come to like Chinatown because it hasn’t been caught up in that frenzy yet.”

Derrick raised an eyebrow. “But we have, though. Everyone I know from Chinatown is busting their ass to earn a buck, or has done things they’ve regretted just to pay the rent. I’m sure you’ve gone through something like that too, haven’t you—” Wait. Come to think of it, Sally had moved to Chinatown at some point; she hadn’t grown up here. She’d never walked the same streets that Derrick had. Where was she even from?

Sally looked up at Derrick, and then away, retreating behind her curtain of bangs again. “Done things I’ve regretted? Well, sometimes. But it wasn’t a life or death struggle or anything. And I still have some savings from before I started living here. So maybe I can’t speak for you. But—not being rich isn’t all bad, right? Tony’s so happy when we get take out food, even though it’s not anything fancy. He always looks like he’s savoring a fine meal, when we’re just sitting on the curb and sharing a box of noodles. I like how he appreciates the simple joys in life.”

“Sure, but I bet he’d like to be able to afford to take you out to nice restaurants whenever he wanted. And honestly . . . I like takeout too, but Tony’s only that happy eating it because he’s with you.”

Sally’s shoulders twitched, but her face was hidden behind her hair and bowed head. “Thanks,” she said. “I don’t care if he ever takes me out to a nice restaurant, but . . . I hope he can afford it one day.”

“Yeah, that would be nice, huh?” Derrick said. It was the perfect time to break the tension, but could he pull it off? “. . . And . . . not to make this about me or anything, but I wish he’d take me to a nice restaurant too. I’ve only been cleaning up after him for years now.” Derrick forced a shaky smile.

Sally giggled, and the giggle grew to a laugh, which she covered with a hand—but her eyes laughed openly. “I think he likes me better, but you can always try asking him too.”

Derrick allowed himself a smile, too.

“Thanks for bringing me along, Derrick,” Sally said. “I’d been worried about Tony for a while, but even if I found out about Xian, and this rally, I would’ve been scared to go by myself. I wouldn’t have known what to expect, since Tony never told me much about this whole business.” She held her left hand out. “So thanks!”

Her hand was small and delicate-looking, but her smile was wide and unguarded. A wide, unguarded smile around his ugly mug was rare indeed. Derrick swallowed, and tried to ignore the rising flush in his cheeks. “Well, I thought you could help if Tony wouldn’t listen to me. Thankfully it didn’t come to that, and, well—I mean—you’re welcome.”

They shook hands.

#

The rally went late into the night, until large groups of people started leaving the barbershop. They left mostly grinning and laughing, despite complaints about being hungry, or groans at the nasty smell coming from the alley.

Derrick held a hand out to Tony, who was sitting on the barber shop’s front steps, wiping his sweat. On top of not being the steadiest on his feet after coming home from the hospital, Tony’s fluttering eyelids and pallid cheeks meant that the alcohol was slowing him down. Tony’s crushed Derrick’s hand with his own fleshy and sweaty one, and struggled to his feet—Derrick couldn’t pull Tony’s bulk up on his own.

Standing, Tony tried unlocking his phone a few times before finally opening it, and then held it up, showing the contacts screen to Derrick and Sally, and scrolling through the new contacts he’d added. Tony, true to his word, had gone around and talked to almost every business owner who’d come to the shop. “I never talked to these guys back in the old days, either. But now, we’re gonna try to get some business going. One guy offered to resell me some parts for a solid price, even. Most of the work isn’t mod-related; there are some odd jobs, and vehicle repair. But it’s a start. I’m feeling good, my boy.”

Sally practically jumped onto Tony and nestled herself into his bear-like hug.

All the while, Li Xian was leaning against one of his barber chairs, hotly debating the specifics of the proposal they planned to make to the White Leopards, with a few people who had stuck around until the very end. His gaze wandered over to Tony, and he excused himself before striding over to them as if he’d just won the lottery. Li Xian patted Tony on the shoulder, and Tony’s knees bucked, but he remained standing.

Tony said, laughing. He clapped Xian on the shoulder as well, and Xian almost crumbled from the impact, backpedaling until he hit the wall and regained his balance.

Tony and Xian chit-chatted a bit more: Tony mostly drunkenly laughing at Xian’s wild claims, until Xian decided to finally close up shop.

As Derrick, Tony, and Sally left, Xian stood in the doorway, waving goodbye at his co-conspirators, and thumbed a few dollar bills from the haircuts he was able to give.

#

The old black lady’s cane clattered to the ground as the bus went over a bump while she was scooting to the next seat away from them. She pinched her nose, and crouched to retrieve her cane, before practically running away to her new seat. Derrick couldn’t blame her of course, because Tony stunk of booze. Sally had gone back to her place to get some sleep before her bar’s special event the next morning, so Derrick was the only one carrying Tony back to Hack Alley. The chill air in the bus at least made Tony’s breath smell more stale than rancid. It was bearable.

“You went way too wild back there,” Derrick said.

Tony grunted. “But it worked . . . Chinatown contracts are sealed with beer and hard liquor, you already know that . . . .”

Tony nodded for a while, and then leaned against Derrick on the bus seat. Even though the smell of alcohol was damped by the cool air, the smell of Tony’s sweat also hung around them like a cloud. The man had fallen asleep, and a good part of his bulk was rest on Derrick’s shoulder, which began falling asleep as well, not even halfway through the bus ride home. It was like the old days in elementary school, when Derrick rode the bus with a friend who would keep falling asleep on his shoulder, except Tony had more than a hundred pounds on Derrick.

They got off the bus and Derrick half-helped, half-dragged Tony all the way back to Hack Alley. He had to lean Tony against the wall so that he could unlock the door.

“Alright, time to get to bed, Tony,” Derrick said, tugging Tony off the wall. They entered the shop, and Derrick laid Tony down on his bed. Tony was still grumbling about wanting to drink more, but eventually settled down after Derrick insisted they were out of booze.

“Hey, Tony,” Derrick said. “This petition to the White Leopards, and the whole thing about trying to get developers to invest in Chinatown . . . it’s even crazier than I imagined. I’ve never seen you try anything like this before, but maybe with this many people . . . you and Xian can pull it off.”

Tony smiled, his eyelids already closed. “It’s gotta work. It’s gonna be great. Now give me that pin-up calendar already.” He was obviously half-conscious.

Wait, no, Derrick had totally forgotten—“Tony, wait! I got so distracted that I forgot to tell you what I found at—I mean, what my contact gave me,” Derrick almost shouted, shaking Tony’s shoulder. “Wait, don’t fall asleep yet, dammit!”

But Tony’s snoring had begun. “What—fuck, come on man.” Derrick shook Tony’s meaty shoulder a few more times, but it was clear that Tony would be useless even if Derrick slapped him awake. Derrick turned off the lights in Tony’s room, and closed the door. “Goodnight, boss.”

The air was still in the little hallway in front of Tony’s room, and at the back of the shop. The harsh, white lights in the shop pushed up against the edges of the hall, but didn’t push all the way inside. Derrick closed his eyes. He’d been awake for so long. Could he stay in the darkness of the hallway for a while? He leaned against the wall, exhaustion hanging from his limbs like bags of rice, and a sort of phantom weariness creeping into his prosthesis as well. It hurt, but the anxiety in his chest was louder. It never turned off.

When was the last time he had felt truly comfortable? Back before Tony had hit his downward spiral? No, but Derrick was still hurting from the surgery back then: his face hurt, and how it looked hurt even worse. No, he had last felt comfortable all the way back when he was still living at his parent’s restaurant. When the world seemed like an exciting place to explore and leave his mark on. Maybe some day, some time in the future, it would seem like that again.

Comfort was far away, but there was still something to do right away. Derrick crept back into his room, and locked the door again. He plugged his phone into the charger, and held it tight against his chest as he unlocked it and peered at the image he had taken from Maxine’s hideout.

The image was much clearer than the picture he’d taken without the flash. What were previously just colored blogs and grids, were now revealed to be sectors of some kind. They had letter and numbers on them, both on the blobs, and along the grids, but most of the smaller text was still too pixelated and unreadable.

But there were also curved, dotted lines. They snaked between the grid lines, connecting blobs and text alike, and some even had labels running along their length. It was hard to make out, but the dotted lines also seemed to have arrows—or was it just artifacting from the parts of the diagram they crossed over?

Shit, if only the picture was a bit clearer! There was image processing software that used machine learning to attempt to recreate detail in blurry images, but it was usually trained on common photo subjects, like people, or nature. Where could he get something that worked on detailed diagrams? Maybe it would be better to just go back again and fiddle with the printer until he got a clearer picture. An deep groan escaped Derrick’s mouth. Fiddling with the printer really sucked.

Either way, when Tony woke up again, it would be time to share what he’d found. It wasn’t much to go on, and who even knew if the diagram from Maxine’s hideout was related to happenings around New Shore City at all? Maybe it was a diagram about a nuclear facility in Iran or something; Maxine got up to some crazy shit.

Derrick hopped in the shower and shivered in the cold water—cold to save on the power bill—picking up the sponge and scrubbing away the mildew where he could find it. He wiped himself—kind of— dry with a crusty old towel, and then entered the chill of the shop once again. It was cold, but the harsh lights exerted a type of pressure on his skin, that he could feel even with closed eyes. It kept him from shivering, strangely.

Derrick collapsed onto bed, and hadn’t even closed his eyes before sleep hit him like a storm surge, sending his mind deep down under.