Page 104 of Exquisite Things
The muscle clone makes a face of disgust as he looks at me. “Well, that’s unpleasant,” he says coldly.
“You’re unpleasant,” Archie barks.
“Leave us alone,” Bram begs. “He doesn’t feel well.”
Archie pushes the guy back out into the club. He tries to lock the door so we can be alone. But someone pushes it open.
“Occupied!” Archie yells.
The person on the other side doesn’t seem to care. He keeps pushing as Archie keeps pushing back, trying to get the door closed.
“I said it’s occupied,” Archie reiterates.
Bram yells out, “There’s a sick person in here, give us a minute!”
Archie loses the battle. The person on the other side gets the door open. Archie falls to the floor with a thud, his skin now lying atop the drips of piss that all men seem to leave behind on bathroom floors the world over. Bram strokes my newly cut hair tenderly. I puke some more, then look over to see an old man lock the door behind him.
He wears leather shoes.
A luxurious overcoat with a fur collar.
A sharp hat on his head that I suddenly realize I’ve seen before...
It’s the man from the limo.
The one who was staring at us.
I knew I sensed something sinister in him.
Somethingfamiliar.
Once he’s secured the door, he turns to face me and Bram. Takes off his hat to reveal a balding head, sprigs of limp gray hair atop it like leftover sprouts in a withered salad. A gaunt face, all skin and bones with eyes haunted by time. He must be close to ninety years old. He balances himself with a long black cane, his hand on its ornate gold handle.
“If we are to speak accurately, there are three sick people in here.” The old man looks at Archie on the floor. “Unless you’re sick too. I can’t be sure.”
The old man’s voice sounds like a long-dormant memory. Like a dream I once had, long forgotten.
“I know what my sickness is,” the old man says. “Yours is the one I’m more interested in.”
It’s his smile that brings it all back. Bodies shrink. Skin sags. Hair falls. But the unique shape a smile makes has no age.
“Jack?” I wonder aloud.
“The Jackal,” he corrects me. “It’s been a long time. For me at least.”
I look to Bram. Or perhaps Bram looks to me first. Neither of us can believe it. After all these years, we’ve been found by someone from our past.
Archie stands up. Confused. Wipes the wetness from his skin with some toilet paper.
“Nice to see you both again.” There’s a diabolical smirk on Jack’s face.
“Bram. Oliver. What’s going on?” Archie asks. “Who is this?”
Jack ignores Archie. Keeps his eyes fixed on us. “Bram?” He thinks. “Like Bram Stoker? Interesting.”
“Archie, go!” Bram yells. “Please, go.”
Archie moves closer to us. “I’m not leaving you alone. Lily would murder me if I didn’t get you home safe.”
