Meanwhile, back in the Forest….
Robert Nash Hood
There are certain things you never get used too; the taste of second rate water, baby faced teens mimicking the corrupt ideals of rap videos, and being in the den of the wolves. He didn’t mind the surrounding permeation of poverty in the Forest, even though the majority of his breeding type found neighborhoods like this oppressive and intimidating. He actually found a lot of beauty in the honesty of this place, rarely were you confronted by the two faced mask of beauty on a monster. The monsters here most often looked like monsters. But it was the abode of the Wolves, the gaping tower created and then forgotten by the self-promoting hands of capitalism, which caused a gentle tremor to rise across his spine. Perhaps part of it was a self-reflection, but more likely it was the presence of so many wolves. They moved about the shadows of the building throughout all times of the day. They came and went as groups or lone, occasionally staring at his presence from the corners of their view. This was the one place in the Forest he would never feel at home.
His fingers wrung within themselves, cracking his knuckles at first and now just repeating the process to release apprehensive energy. He was hunched in a chair, sitting in what used to be the front desk of the building. Richie stood with his back towards Robert, he really wasn't a threat. In fact, there were moments when Robert and the Wolves were even comrades. They just didn't want him poking around unattended, and no one got past Richie without the permission of B.B., except maybe Red. She was the reason he was here. She was always the reason he was here. It was true that he no longer felt the full weight of responsibility for the girl, but that didn’t mean that a downtown explosion didn’t get him thinking. He’d tried to call and that probably would have satiated him, but with no answer it only proved to dig deeper into his consciousness. He worried about her, almost as much as he worried about what it was she was up to.
B.B. Wolfe
He hung up the phone as it clicked over to voicemail, again. His patience, which was already rather illusory, had dissipated about 3 one-sided phone calls ago. There was a sort of dread that always began to stroke him when Red wouldn’t answer. He didn’t deal well with dread, so it was simply recalculated as anger. Easier to process. He removed his top hat and pressed a large palm across slick black hair and let out an exaggerated sigh. A gentle tap came at the window of the heavily tinted town car and he obliged the request by cracking the window. An enveloped slipped through the crack from what looked to be a fox, though it could have been a young wolf. B.B. seemed uninterested as he slipped the envelope into a briefcase and rolled up the window.
He looked down at his phone one last time, the screen simply blinked the time, no missed calls. The explosion was already being removed and the phone calls had begun shortly after. It was Richie who pointed a finger towards Red, his account was shoddy, but with Red now MIA….
“Butch, we are going to need to stop back by the Forest Tower.” B.B.’s voice was gruff, dark and scratchy. It was the kind of voice that made innocent women feel dirty and weak men feel woeful. It was the kind of voice that called, and you answered, unless you were Red. He was thinking now that he had spoiled the insolent little minx. Perhaps he would have tighten her leash, but he had been saying that for years. She batted those long lashes and smiled that smutty smile; the image had him tightening a fist around the cellphone until it almost snapped within his grasp. “Fuckin’ Red.”
A few moments later the town car squealed to a halt out front of the Forest Towers and B.B. stepped out. It was habit to glance about, sensing for anything amiss. Having decided everything was as usual, his movements once again became predatory. His fingers seemed to almost rip the massive intricate gold leafed handle from the door of the Towers as he huffed his way in. His steps were forceful, his gait wide. While he was not an impressive stature, especially in relation to Richie…there was just something about him. B.B. locked eyes and pace towards Richie who was already raising his hands in a blame refuting manner. Rob began to rise but B.B.’s eyes flashed towards him and a finger shot up. Rob was quickly reclaiming his seat. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but Richie’s tone was a submissive apology and Rob could swear that there was actual smoke venting from Mr. Wolfe. His tone was guttural and harsh. It seemed to Rob that he did not get the answer he was looking for, but did get directions as Richie pointed towards the indoor pool. B.B. stride, purposeful without looking rushed, headed down a badly lit hall in the offered direction.
Richie turned towards Rob and offered him a shrug. Rob let out a measured sigh and attempted to get comfortable, returning Richie’s gesticulation. He had so many other things he needed to be doing, but he was glued here now, his only real recourse, save leaving and hoping B.B. could handle Red, was to pull out his PDA and start issuing orders to his own staff.
Little Red
The indoor pool resembled a ghetto fabulous atrium more than a pool. The concrete pit was empty save for a few broken chaise lounge chairs and used spray paint cans. The tiles had been imported, glittering in defiance beneath sprawling art pieces that depicted wolves and other tableaus of Forest life scrawled in a variety of colors and life experience. The ground around the pool was soft tiny pale pebbles, ferns and other vines sprouting through and clawing about the area no coherent pattern. Even in this disarray the room hinted a need for classical music, but it was currently being fed a song unrecognizable beyond thumping bass. B.B. pushed open the wooden doors only to be assaulted by the bass invasion. He quickly turned to the stereo by the door and clicked it off, turning to face Red complete with a “WHAT THE FUCK MANYA?”
The little girl, still dressed in the same attire she had donned before the bombing, was perched atop a bar stool with a box of Chinese food resting on her knee. “Shhhhhhhh.” The chopsticks moved from beneath the hood to point at a figure a few feet away the pool. The figure was gagged, eyes large and pleading, tied eccentrically to the chair. What she lacked in skill she made up for with dedication. For a moment B.B. looked floored. His eyes rolled towards the ceiling as he made his way towards Red, putting his back towards the bloody faced rabbit.
“Shhhhh. You’re fucking kidding me. Shhhhhh. What the hell is going on Red? What have you done?” She lowered the chopsticks to her food and gazed at B.B. There was a few blood sprinkles kissing her cheeks, thankfully not enough to portray crazed violence. Her eyes were slightly glazed, but they saw him and focused. A good sign, and at this point B.B. was really needing a few good signs before he knocked the crazy bitch out.
“It hops so fast, bouncing, hunting. Do rabbits eat wolves? Wolves eat rabbits. Rabbits eat carrots. But who likes carrots? Raw carrots?” She twirled the chopsticks about in her Chinese food, focusing her attention on the cooked carrots sprinkled in her Lo Mein.
B.B.’s voice was measured, speaking calmly now though the rage threatened just beneath. “Manya, little Red, I need you to tell me what happened.” She raised her eyes back up to meet Wolfe’s. She looked a little hurt that he was mad at her. For a moment he remembered how broken she was and it influenced a downward curl of his lips. He couldn’t tell for sure if she was trying to play him or not, but he reached out a hand and rubbed a piece of blood off of her cheek. “It’s going to be okay Manya, start at the beginning. Did you have anything to do with the pigs?” She looked awkwardly insulted that he would ask her that. Her indignation flared and B.B. smiled. “I thought maybe you did it for me,” he added in attempt to pry the story from her.
“I did not blow up the pigs.” Her frown deepened. “Did you want me too?”
“No, no, no.” He ran a calming hand over her head, smoothing her hair. It took a lot for him to not push the weight of his palm forcefully into her temple and crack that pretty demented little head on the floor. Red could sense his indecision and flinched a little at his touch. He pulled his hand away and tried a sympathetic expression. “Look Manya, I just want to know what happened. Who is that? Why is he here?” He gestured over his shoulder at the Rabbit and was tempted to add an enthusiastic HERE IN MY HOME, but he restrained himself.
She considered his expression and dropped the chopsticks into the Chinese food. Thick lashes fluttered over focusing eyes, blank yet grasping for clarity. He hadn’t noticed before but her pupils were drowning out the gentle gray. It was as if you could see the mental gears trying to shake off rust, either trying to remember what happened exactly or to make sure the light she shone was not cast brightly upon her own faults. She set the Chinese food down and dug around for a joint in the deep cotton pockets of the hoodie; buying time while she decided if Fox should be mentioned at all. B.B. let out what would most definitely be called a growl and she abandoned her search for a lighter, slipping the unlit joint behind her ear.
“Well, you see, I decided to go for a little walk.” B.B. did not like when Red was in these moods. He actually preferred her vicious. At least the story would be more interesting than this awkward half high stage she floated about in. He knew this was going to be long winded and was already rolling his wrist and waving his palm in a gesture he hoped would fast forward the tale. “Dusk was starting to kick in when I left…” She noticed his gesture and decided to skip the entire part about the star alignments and the way she always felt frosty slipping over 6th Avenue no matter the time of day. “Well, I was minding my own business, smoking on top of a fire escape. I thought I would catch the sunset. The sunset has been hinting at something as of late, don’t you agree?”
B.B. was plucking a piece of lint off of his suit and just barely raised an eyebrow toward her at the question. She was relaxing and even giggled a little bit. But his expression offered no solidarity on the light hearted front. There was a man tied to a chair and this bitch was talking about sunsets. Realizing he was not going to answer, she offered an answer for him, “Of course you have, you notice everything.” While B.B. was a fan of flattery, he missed that as her attempt. He really was not in the mood for any of this. He probably should have just let that sad sap Rob Hood deal with her, and he most definitely would have if he didn’t feel protective of his turf and the blow back upon him from Red’s action.
“Where did you find him Red?” The guy had seen B.B. now, so the problem had not only curled up on his floor, now he was invariably linked to the situation.
“Okay, so, minding my own business. Walking along the roof so I could get down and head back home when all of a sudden he comes leaping at me. I hit him. I didn’t know what else to do. He looked crazed and you can never be too careful. Like Grandma used to….”
“Focus Red.” B.B.’s stern expression made her forget what she was about to say anyway. She stared at him while trying to remember where exactly she was in her tale until B.B., with an exaggerated eye roll helped her out. “You hit him, and?”
“AND he started bleeding like a bitch in heat.” She gestured to the bits of blood upon herself as proof. “I didn’t want to leave him assed out on the roof top. And then I noticed this…” She reached beside her and picked a messenger bag off the ground and held it out towards B.B. She peered around him at the rabbit while narrowing her eyes. “He works for someone.”
“So you tied him up and brought him here?”
“Yep.”
“Red….” He was going to explain some things to her but then he decided she probably wasn’t in any state to absorb the basic knowledge he wanted to drop on her. Instead B.B. turned towards the rabbit. He walked over with measured strides, evaluating the man with a moderate interest. He stood there, looming over him for a few moments, before he hooked a finger on the side of the gag and pulled it out of him mouth. “And you, what do you have to say for yourself?” He tone was cold, but interested. He wiped his hand on a handkerchief he had pulled from one of his pockets. You never know what kind of diseases these vermin carry.