Phoenix King

by Miranda Martin

  When you worked with shady characters, life didn't always go smoothly. There were some not so great people out there who might not exactly love me. Though those people usually got only what was coming to them. I couldn't regret it—a lot of the time, the problem had to do with settling my bill. If I had to twist a few arms to be properly compensated, so be it.

  On more rare occasions, the disagreement was about my life. They wanted to take it and I wasn't really okay with that. Go figure.

  I tapped a finger on my desk as I stared at the line. Bottom line was, I couldn't really do anything about it. I could try to trace it back to the sender, but if they were able to send something without the identifier attached, then I doubted I'd find anything. They were too tech savvy.

  So.

  I'd be careful, like I always was. And I'd deal with whatever was thrown at me when and if it was. Shutting the computer down, I grabbed the package and stood up.

  I had work to do.

  Chapter Two

  The job was pretty standard.

  The package came in the mail, but it had to be delivered by hand to ensure receipt and on time delivery. Probably I would have been fine leaving it in my office when I went to school with Omari, but after losing a package once, I'd made a rule never to let one out of my sight. Sure, I lost money on that job. But the bigger deal was, it was a hit on my reputation. Much more costly in the long run than the temporary loss of funds.

  That led to my other rule—I would only ever have one package on hand to deliver at a time. I didn't pick anything up that I would have to hold onto for a while before I could deliver it. The less time I had anything in my possession, the lower the risk of something going wrong. And if something did go wrong, only one package and one job would be on the chopping block.

  Those rules had really cut down on problems.

  I glanced at the address. It was just as standard as the job itself. It was in an okay part of the dome—not posh enough to merit fake trees, but not bad enough that stripped cars lined the streets. It was the kind of job I liked for its simplicity. It didn't pay as well because of that very same simplicity. Still, I figured the tradeoff was fair if I didn't have to pull any of my knives.

  Or run for my life.

  I turned onto the next major street, blending in with streams of people going in the same direction. When I scanned the addresses, I realized the one I needed was actually on the other side of this row of buildings. Sighing, I veered out of the crowd and into one of the narrower streets that cross-sectioned the area.

  The street was surprisingly empty. Probably because only those who needed to get to this side of the row of buildings really used it. I kept a sharp eye out though, scanning the dumpster to the side and eyeing shadows.

  What I didn't keep an eye out for was a car.

  An engine revved in front of me and I frowned, looking up. Modern-day engines didn't really make that sound, though some had the modification built in, I guess because they thought it sounded cool. Which just told me it wasn't. In any case, at the other end of the narrow street—or maybe glorified alleyway was more apt—I saw a car blocking basically the entire way.

  Great.

  I eyed the small amount of space on either side. Probably I could squeeze by if I flattened myself against the wall...

  Another rev of the engine.

  I rolled my eyes, stepping to the side. Some people were just that self-involved.

  "Go ahead," I called out, just as the thing jumped forward, way too fast for safety. I frowned. "Hey, buddy! Slow down!"

  I took a step back as it barreled towards me, a shot of adrenaline spiking through me.

  Shit.

  It was only speeding up.

  I glanced back, but I was too far from the other end of the street already. My eye fell on the dumpster and shot up. I could get to the fire escape from there if I climbed onto it.

  With no time to debate the course of action, I turned and sprinted towards the dumpster, the package still tucked under my arm. As I neared it, I threw the package on top of the closed lid, hoping whatever was inside wasn't fragile.

  They hadn't mentioned it was, but it was too late now. I took a flying leap to grab the top of the dumpster and haul my ass up. I still needed to jump to reach the ladder, drawn up as it was for safety reasons.

  When I glanced down, the car was already almost on top of me.

  I had one shot.

  And I couldn't take the package with me.

  Shit shit shit.

  No more time!

  Crouching down, I jumped for all I was worth, extending my arms as far as they could go. The rough rusty rung of the ladder met my hands with a hard, painful smack.

  The car hit the dumpster with a screeching howl of metal on metal.

  I winced, wishing I could cover my ears as the painful scrape of the car against the wall right under me and the squeal of bent metal combined, echoing in the closed-in alley. The car didn't sound like it was slowing down at all.

  When I turned to look, it was pushing the dumpster all the way to the end of the street, with people crying out and jumping out of the way as it was shoved out into the crowded sidewalk. As soon as the dumpster was out far enough to give it room, the car reversed a bit and then made a sharp turn. It sped down the street with a squeal of its tires, the front of it crumpled pretty damn badly.

  What the hell was that?

  That was when the ladder decided to lower itself with a hard, grating sound. But not all the way. My shoulders jerked at the movement and I hung for a few seconds, too far from the street for my liking without the dumpster underneath me to shorten the distance.

  This was supposed to be a standard delivery. Standard, damn it!

  With a huff of breath, I braced myself to let go. There was nothing else to do. Soft knees. I let go. No problem.

  "Aaah!" I hit the ground hard, bending my knees to absorb the impact, but it was still painful.

  Wonderful. The cement was cold under my butt, even through my jeans. Wincing, I reached out to lean against the wall as I got to my feet. Something twisted in my knee, sending a hot needle of pain up my leg.

  Great.

  I turned to walk back the way I'd come, limping. Because that was exactly the message I wanted to send out to predators. Here I am! Easy prey!

  Grumbling to myself, I pushed through the crowd gathered around the dumpster, still looking after the car that sped away. Nobody seemed to be seriously hurt, though more than a few looked pretty pissed. They could join the club.

  I eyed the twisted metal of the dumpster with a dubious eye. The lid on one side had flipped open while the other side looked like it was ripped clean off in the collision. I looked over to see it lying on the street some yards away. I turned back to the dumpster, my package must have fallen inside. There was no alternative.

  I'd have to get in there.

  I hooked my fingers on top and pulled myself up, trying not to breathe through my nose. With the lids off, it reeked to high heaven.

  Lovely.

  Grimacing, I slowly lowered myself inside, the trash crumpling under my weight.

  "What the hell is she doing?"

  "Damned if I know."

  "She's probably just crazy."

  I tuned out the peanut gallery, crouching to look through the stuff on top. The car had hit hard enough that it had tossed the contents around. My package wasn't on top anymore.

  Sometimes my life really sucked.

  Holding my breath, I used my arm to shove a wet looking mess to the side—was that once pasta?—and threw the bag I found underneath to the other side. It broke and spilled out something particularly nauseating.

  Was that a diaper?

  Oh my God the smell was going to kill me. This is how I was going to die. Knee deep in trash. It took me another agonizing thirty seconds to finally find the box.

  It was a little dented and sporting a suspicious stain, but basically intact. Tucking it under my arm, I almost leaped out
of the dumpster, and took a deep breath of the relatively fresh air.

  Okay.

  I was in one piece. I had my package. Time to finish the damn job. Gritting my teeth, I walked back towards that narrow street. The few people still lingering took large steps back from me, covering their noses with their hands. I grinned at them, and they took another step back. I was so not in the mood. I strode down that stupid street and found the address I was looking for at the other end.

  The door opened when I reached it and I stepped inside to find the busy foyer of a multistory office building. A woman in a plum-colored power suit took one look at me and immediately changed her trajectory so she wouldn't come too near me. A gray-haired man in a sweater vest wrinkled his nose as he passed by.

  Everyone was a critic.

  When I reached the receptionist, she looked up at me with a smile that only lasted until she took in my appearance. I must have looked as bad as I smelled.

  "Delivery for a Nathaniel Ahmed?"

  She stared at me.

  I set the box down on the raised ledge in front of her. "Delivery?" I prodded.

  "Oh! Oh, yes!" she nodded, turning to look at the box in all its disgusting glory. "Um...I'll have him come down."

  "That would be great."

  She picked up the phone and called while I stood there, meeting people’s eyes until they looked away. I was way past feeling any kind of shame. Less than a minute later, a handsome man in a gray suit, tailored to his slim body, stepped out of the elevator and to the front desk. He faltered when he saw me, his light brown eyes widening, but then recovered and walked the rest of the way.

  "I was told there was a package for me?" he asked, his eyes landing on the box on the ledge with a look of distaste.

  I hit record on my watch.

  "Nathaniel Ahmed?" I asked.

  He nodded. "Yes."

  "I was hired to deliver this package to you." I shoved the box at him and he had no choice but to grab it.

  "What is it?" he asked, holding it away from him.

  "I wasn't told." I turned away. My job was done. The package was in his hands.

  I heard him opening it as I walked towards the doors. "Son of a bitch!"

  I glanced over my shoulder, to see his light-brown skin turning red as he looked down at a thin, re-programmable data sheet.

  Huh.

  Not what I would have expected to be in the box. Maybe that was the point. He looked up and met my eyes.

  "Tell that bitch I'll see her in court! She's not getting shit in the divorce!"

  I shrugged as I turned away. "You'll have to tell her yourself," I muttered. "I'm just the delivery girl."

  He was still cursing behind me as I stepped out onto the street.

  I took a deep breath, the breeze sweeping away some of the smell lingering on me.

  That went well.

  Chapter Three

  People gave me a wide berth as I walked down the street and hopped onto a trolley headed in the right direction. I did give everyone the courtesy of staying on the outside, hanging onto a pole instead of sitting inside. But the young woman to my left and the older man in a button down to my right still leaned well away from me as we rolled down the street. I couldn't blame them. The garbage smell was distracting even to me.

  That was why I was heading home first rather than going straight to the office like I'd planned. I didn't think I could focus with the essence of garbage wafting up to my nose every time I moved. I knew it was bad if even I could smell it.

  I hopped off the trolley as someone yelled out at me from inside. "You stink, lady! Would it hurt you to take a bath?" People could be really rude sometimes.

  I had the urge to tell him that was exactly what I was going to do, but on the list of possible comebacks, that was too weak to embarrass myself with. So I just gave him the one-fingered salute and moved on.

  I reached the safe-ish street my apartment building was on—safe cost too much money—and tried to take the stairs two at a time like I usually did. Unfortunately, my knee wasn't happy with that decision.

  "Ow, ow, ow," I muttered under my breath as I slowed down and took them at a slower clip, one at a time. Like a child! Still cursing under my breath, I made it to my floor. The worn, patterned carpet and the institutional-gray walls gave it a kind of dingy appearance, but it was clean and in good repair so I wasn't going to complain.

  I used the retinal scanner and fingerprint lock I had installed myself before I stuck my key into the physical lock to open the door. Maybe it was paranoid to have three different kinds of locks, but I didn't always deal with the most savory people in the course of my job. So I had all three.

  The inside of my place was spare since I didn't bother with a lot of stuff. The only thing I'd added to the one-bedroom setup was a bed for Omari, next to mine. Though I'd probably have to figure something else out soon. Omari was already starting to accumulate toys in the living room populated by a worn-out couch and scarred coffee table.

  I walked through our bedroom and to the bathroom, stripping and dumping my clothes in the hamper just outside the tiny room. Hmm. I rummaged through the dirty clothing and found a sheet. I shoved the garbage-clothes inside and tied it up in an effort to hold in the stink. Better. But I'd have to do laundry soon. Another thing to add to my growing list.

  Hopping into the shower, I scrubbed up quickly, thinking about everything I needed to get done before I had to pick Omari up from school. I was out in under ten minutes and dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie in another two. I eyed my boots and sighed as I shoved my feet into my sneakers instead. I needed to clean the boots before I wore them again.

  Then I was out and off to my office. I needed to check to make sure I received the second half of my payment, check my email, and buy groceries before I went to the school. All right. I could do this. But multi-tasking was probably in order.

  I tapped my watch and checked my bank account. It looked a little happier than it did this morning. Always nice not to have to shake my clients down after the fact.

  I reached my office and sat my butt down in my chair, turning my computer on. Going to my emails, I started scrolling through. Bill, bill, bill... Potential client. I sent out a standard billing schedule for the job they were inquiring about. Someone I didn't want to talk to, someone trying to sell me something...

  I can't wait to see you.

  I paused, a shot of excitement hitting me. I knew there was a goofy grin on my face as I opened that one. Good thing nobody was around to see it. It was short and to the point, but it might as well have been a flowery three-page poem for the way my heart fluttered after seeing it.

  Tomorrow night can't come soon enough.

  I miss you.

  -Ashur

  Awww.

  He was coming out to the city dome tomorrow to visit. I totally agreed with the sentiment of the email. But as Dragon Lord of his territory, he couldn't just drop everything and come see me every day. Just like I couldn't play hooky from work. I typed back my response, keeping it short too.

  Miss you too. Can't wait to see you :).

  XOXO

  Mia

  Were the Xs and Os too much? I was overthinking it, I decided after deleting and retyping them twice. I clicked send, feeling a little happier.

  I scrolled through a few more in my inbox before I stopped at the one I'd received earlier.

  Watch your back.

  I felt the back of my neck tingle as I stared at it. Coincidence? Maybe, maybe not. I stared at it a little longer, but nothing jumped out at me. Shaking my head, I stood up and closed everything down. I didn't have time to dwell on it either way. If something else happened, I'd revisit the situation. Right now, I needed to get to the market.

  The biggest outdoor market in this quadrant wasn't that far away, so that was where I headed. You could find anything you wanted there, from one-second hair curlers to spare car parts and food. It was more than a bit of a sensory overload though. I walked th
rough the people hawking their wares at full volume, trying to be heard over everyone else doing the same. Blinking lights and waving streamers vied for my attention.

  "Self-cleaning underwear! Never feel less than fresh!"

  Uh huh.

  "Want to lose weight but don't want to do the work? This machine will exercise you while you sleep!"

  "Can't decide on a paint color? Try this tri-chromatic wonder!"

  I tuned them all out and pushed through the crowd to get to the stalls selling food.

  Hmm. What would a six-year-old want to eat? And what should he eat?

  I'd been making do with what I already had in the apartment, but I needed to make a better effort. Plus, we'd run out of everything.

  I ended up getting some dried pasta, rice, a few vegetables and fruits, though most of them were frozen or canned. The fresh produce was even more expensive than the already-expensive preserved stuff. Water wasn't the easiest thing to come by these days. I also grabbed some frozen Syn-Tho-Chik nuggets and other quick prep foods I could heat up for him.

  A gourmet chef I was not.

  But I was going to try my best. At the last second, I bought some food that was already ready, just in case I didn't have time to cook before I picked him up. I could start cooking tomorrow. Loaded up with two bags, I headed home to drop everything off. By the time I had it put away, I was already late for pick up.

  "Shit!"

  I booked it out of my apartment and ran over to the school. Note to self—set an alarm for pick up tomorrow. With every step, my knee felt like someone was jabbing it with a meat fork.

  "Watch it!"

  "Hey!"

  I ignored the disgruntled shouts as I wove in and out of the stream of people, trying to get to the school as quickly as I could. I could have driven my car, though that hunk of junk was being held together with floss and prayers. With as crowded as the streets were, running was probably faster anyway, even with my jobbed-up knee.