by J.P Jackson
*Beep!*
Taylor returned to lay on the mattress and the moment his eyes closed, a phone call jolted them open. An aqua-coloured light flashed out of his holo-lens, its luminescence lighting his field of view. This was his private number, and only one man ever used it.
Sitting up and spitting out a chunk of phlegm from the back of his throat, Taylor tapped a finger to his right temple. The flashes of light faded as a video feed opened up before his eye, revealing Donald's disgruntled face.
"You couldn't wait?"
"They know where to find me, Donald. Fuck, if I was high priority then they'd already have me, right?"
His voice was old and scratchy, his tongue like a piece of jerky. "Don't worry Don, I'm too tired to off myself tonight."
"I want you to come round for dinner. Tonight. Run a comb through your hair or something."
While Taylor thought up an excuse, Donald calmed his two young children over his shoulder. "Put that down boys! Put it down! Sorry Ham, the lads are playing with the Watson kids. They're running riot in here."
Taylor smiled when he caught a glimpse of his troublesome nephews, Lucas and Cameron, in the background.
"Be here in an hour!" Donald insisted. "I've talked the wife round and arranged a cab to pick you up. I want you here, okay? Don't let me down, please?"
Taylor held up his hand and relinquished. "Save your credits. The walk will do me good. Be there shortly."
Taylor tapped his temple and his brother disappeared. Back in the dying light of his apartment, he pulled on a pair of jeans, buttoned up his shirt and laced his boots over bare feet. He sparked up another cigarette then removed two items from a box beside the mattress. The first was a gold medal that he jammed into his left pocket. The second was stack of 50 cards, which he stuffed into his right. The cards were all identical, featuring the last image of Penelope Taylor before her disappearance. Penelope was not traditionally beautiful; her nose was a little too large and her eyes a little too small, but hers was the face that kept Taylor awake at night. It was also the face of the sex doll charging in the corner.
On the back of each card were details of Penelope's last known location and a contact number to call with information.
Taylor pocketed his pack of smokes, threw the parka over his arm then ventured out into the bright lights of the big city.
