Page 82 of Diamond in the Rough

Jake stepped out the door and propped himself up on the car. He took a few deep breaths, then hobbled to the front doors of the flats. He groaned at his new nemesis, the stairs, psyched himself up, and went for it.

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Jake pulled the navy coveralls from his chest of drawers, then struggled into them. He only got one arm through and kept his other in the sling underneath, then zipped up the front.

He found his cap and fake name badge and knocked wall to wall as he stumbled towards the bathroom. The cap hid his bandage, but the only way to disguise the bruises beneath his eyes was to wear shades. He tried to pin his badge to his coveralls, but pinning it with just one hand was too difficult, and he gave up.

“Fuck it.”

He threw some clothes into a bag, then paused and returned to his chest of drawers. He pulled the drawer out, set it aside, then reached for the back of the unit. The brown package crinkled in his shaking hand, and he glanced inside to check the gun was still there.

Jake slung his bag over his shoulder, slipped into his shoes on the mat, and left the door wide open as he left. He stepped down the stairs as carefully as he could and shoved open the door.

The driver frowned at Jake’s attire, and Jake didn’t blame him. He was dressed in a jumpsuit, one arm out and the other tucked away. His eyes were covered by shades, and he wore a cap low on his head. He looked suspicious, and that was without revealing what was in his bag.

“That’s a change…”

“We have another stop to make,” Jake said.

“Okay, where?”

“Prince Regent Apartments. Know them?”

“Who doesn’t…”

The taxi pulled off from the curb, and Jake shuffled and shifted but couldn’t get comfortable. He delved into his bag for the painkillers, tipped out two, then swallowed them dry. The brown package in the bag pulled his gaze, and he sighed before taking the gun out quick and shoving it into his coveralls pocket.

“What time’s the show?” the driver asked.

“Show?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, nine.”

The driver gestured to the clock. “It’s eight now. You’re cutting it close.”

“I just need to say a quick goodbye.”

The driver stopped in the bay outside the apartments and tapped the wheel. “Don’t be long. I don’t wanna get a fine.”

Jake leaned between the seats. “Can you do me a favour?”

“What?”

“Can you pin this on me?”

The driver looked at Jake’s badge, then up at his face. “This badge?”

“Yep.”

“Maintenance man?”

“That’s right.”

“Why does it say Jake?”

“My first name, Jake Brandon.”

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