Romantic Style

Verde, the boss, was younger than me.

He could dress more professionally. For example, here he wore a dark, almost black piece, but you could see it was green if you got close. I think it was like a black-tie but less formal. He could also be the boss of the business. He could be more sophisticated with his words and attitudes, but coming closer I could see he was far greener than the mature man he wanted to pass for.

Verde was definitely younger than me.

We were in the hideout.

Okay ... Not quite a hideout. It was just the combined place. One of the boss's clients was the owner. One of those bars that serve good food at a bargain price for money laundering. The atmosphere was dark and a little claustrophobic. At that time the place was full... of empty tables.

Only we four were there.

Me and my friends Gary and Boe had all been invited, but that particular moment was just me that witnessed. The other two were standing at the counter about forty feet behind, discussing something else with the bartender. It was the moment after the initial conversation, when everyone had finished exchanging crucial information. The boss had nothing to do so he invited me to a game of chess. The other two didn't play, so it was just him and me at the table.

"But I didn't expect that, sir... An alien leaping through Little Quarry's houses and leaving victims in sight?"

"It happened, Spikey. And you know... You three know... It's not only job of the police, but also ours to cover up the existence of creatur... Of talented people like you. After all if everyone knows about your talent then our work gets that much harder, doesn't it?" The boss made a move on the board. We were just beginning the game

"And you're sure you don't want us to find... the Alien?"

"It won't be necessary, Spikey... I have reason to believe he didn't want to draw attention even though he did. In fact..." He glanced at the other two near the counter. "In fact... I believe he must be working for the 'third party'."

The boss attributed to the third party anyone who owned or was employed by the Dragon or Wilkinson. That's because the main gangs left over from the Deluxe business are three: us, the Dragon and Wilkinson. Three parts. And when we are not responsible for something, then it is the third party, namely the competition.

"And you, sir... Do you base this on the fact that that envelope was stolen?"

"Exactly." The boss made another strange move, attacking my side of the king without bothering to defend the previously attacked bishop.

His moves were hard to handle. He forgets the defense and sets off for the attack. You have to play very accurately to be successful in this type of game

The boss proceeded:

"Exactly... And that's why I need you three to focus on the envelope, not the owner. If the alien works for the third party and if he lost the envelope he has already lost the mission. Now it's all a gold rush."

I was still thinking about my move on the board. I let out a thought:

"But I don't understand how an envelope can be that important... I mean..."

The boss bowed his head and stared at me more sharply than usual.

I was going to say it almost looked like the boss knows beforehand whats in the envelope, therefore he knows it's important. But I realized that was something a bit too straightforward to say to him.

"You mean..?"

"Er... Nothing sir. I just wondered... Do you by chance have an idea of what's in the envelope? I mean... For thinking that much of the event."

"What's up, Spikey? Lost the initiative? You're taking too long on this move." He leaned back against the back of the chair. He seemed to have deliberately changed the subject. I didn't insist on the question.

"Yeah... I'm not used to playing like this."

" 'Like this'… My style is what they call romantic playing, isn't it? Not romantic in the sense that inspires love emotions, but in the sense that it is the style played in 1840, at the era of romanticism."

I nodded and made my move.

"And your style... There's a word for your playing style too, isn't it? How do you say it? Patzer style?"

Since he was the boss, he was allowed to say that kind of thing.

He sacrificed another pawn and resumed the subject:

"Is there something bothering you, Spikey? I notice there is a lack of... 'Communication'... between us. First on the phone... What was that about Jeffrey? That talk about the job? It's not very you-like... Not like the three of you... Getting startled by the assumption of a staff swap... You are aware you're technically not part of the staff, right?"

"Yes sir. But I was just... Just..."

"Don't get me wrong, Spikey," he interrupted me as I was making my move, "I like you, I would really like you guys on my staff... But if there's a reason you're not part of it... That reason came from your own selves, no?"

Us the Spikey-Gary-Boe refuse to join any group since after leaving Canada. We are proud independent mercenaries.

"And right now, even though you don't belong to the group, as tradesmen, are you telling me whether I should choose between the merchant or the commodity? The alien or the paper? Seems a bit incoherent, doesn't it?"

"It's not like that at all, sir. I was just asking."

Without giving me too much attention, he turned his head back from where he spotted the barkeeper behind the bar talking to Gary and Boe as they drank some spirits. The bar owner was a personal friend of the boss's client. The boss called him with a gesture.

The boss's client friend approached. The boss asked:

"Hey, what's up? Drinking at this time already? What are y'all talking about?"

The bar owner answered only with a smile. I looked in the direction of the other two and they were looking at us. As soon as the boss and the bar owner looked there as well they looked away.

"Listen... Bring me a dry Martini, will ya?"

"Sure." He nodded and left.

The boss made a dismissive expression with his eyebrows and as he considered his board move he turned to me once more:

"What was I talking about, again?"

The game was already lost. My king was cornered and four of his pieces were attacking it from close. I had two extra smaller pieces and a pawn, but they were all in the corner of the board. Even so, he was still thinking a lot on that one.

"Listen here, Spikey ... I'll tell you something... The three parts... The three third parts. Do you know why despite the police effort they are still around? It's because we can't abuse our... your talent." He looked at me sideways. "You saw the end the abuse gave Jeffrey. He was barely 'born'... Had such a short life."

"Speaking of which... Is he not going to reveal anything about... 'The Greens?' Wouldn't it be good to ensure otherwise?"

"I have reason to believe he won't have a chance to release any valuable information... Leaving that aside, what I wanted to tell you... Since you insist on knowing my reason... The reason why I don't want to do nothing about Alexander Sprohic... The reason why I want nothing to do with Jeffrey now that he's in prison... The reason why I don't want to capture an alien by force... If we start to abuse our luck too much. .. Abuse of your talent... The police starts getting to suspicious and when we least expect it, poof!" He gestured with his hand. "The green color fades from Sproustown."

I was making my moves mechanically, already expecting the irrefutable defeat.

"There is a pace with which we can do things. And I want to use this pace now, in capturing the envelope. Would it be good to capture a smaller 'third party' henchman? Yes. But even more important is information about the actions of Wilkinson or the Dragon, no? That's why I want to focus on the envelope. Would it be good if we could take revenge on Alexander Sprohic for letting us down? Yes. But even more important is to stick with the people we have now, so you have to save talent. One only abuses talent when extremely necessary."

He didn't mention it was he himself who forced Alex to lose the money, so there was not much interest from him on getting the money back, but of course I refrained from mentioning that part.

The boss reached his Martini from the barkeeper's hand as soon as he arrived. While sipping his first sip, he concluded:

"Get it? That's how we work, Spikey. Relationship with the police is important! Without respect for the police there is no respect from the police."

That explanation, while making perfect sense, didn't tell me why the boss would trade capturing an alien to a mere envelope if he was unsure of the importance of the content. Even so, still lacking some information, I was satisfied. After all he was right: none of this concerned me.

I would have given up earlier, but I let the boss check-mate me.

"Chess even looks like a finesse of yours, sir. You're really good at that."

"Finesse?"

"Er... Nothing, sir."

My mistake. Finesse is a term used among us, the 'paranormal' beings. I don't know how far humans know about the terms, so it's best to talk about them as little as possible. Verde, though head of one of the 'three parts', head of a Deluxes distribution organization in Sproustown, is an ordinary human being who puts his hopes on hired freaks like Spikey-Gary-Boe. The other two parts should not be different, after all who better than a paranormal being to take care of this dirty line of work?

If a paranormal being wanted to monopolize Deluxes' illegal trade in a small town like Sproustown, he probably would have done so because of the many advantages he possesses Since no one had monopolized commerce yet, it was clear that the leaders were human, and relied on the efforts of creatures like us to achieve goals they could not achieve on their own.

But even knowing that, looking at that imposing young man, wearing that black tie so elegantly and behaving in a subtle yet hideous manner... There is something about him that makes him look far brasher than human frailty allows. There is something that does not stop me from thinking that he'd make one of the best paranormal beings if he had been born as such. So, every now and then, I find myself making gaffes like this, simply assuming he knows the truths about the paranormal world.

The boss sighed, leaned back in his seat, his drink in hand, and rambled on about his business:

"Alexander Sprohic, heh...? I can't deny he ended up stealing a huge amount of money from us... We might end up missing those..."

And yet, in the end he never said it was he himself who planned the theft.

"Godfrey will delay the payment because he is having difficulties in the transaction because of that councilman..."

He had his eyes on the ceiling lamp. Was leaving his sentences in the air without bothering to finish them. Suddenly he turned to me and with visibly more unwavering intonation he amended:

"But that doesn't concern you, isn't that, right? Spikey!?"

"Huh... Sir...?"

"Haha!" The boss patted the table amicably. "Just kidding, Spikey. Just kidding. I will let the three of you do your work. I can't disturb the work of the subject matter experts, can I?" He pronounced the last words too slowly: "I'm counting on you."

He kept staring at me, I don't know if he was waiting for me to say a goodbye or to give an answer.

There was still something bothering me. Although I admit that the way the boss behaved always made me bewildered, I was not the type that got intimidated by a human. So I boldly risked one last question:

"Sir..."

"Yes...?"

"Just this afternoon you called us to talk about this envelope which felt from the pocket of a fugitive who was captured by SAD's special police."

"Yeah, so?"

"I couldn't help but to hear from Boe... That you were also commenting on that with the... With that fat... With that gentleman who was here last week..."

"Norman."

"Yes. You commented on that with Norman... That Jeffrey had been beaten with just a single punch."

The boss waited for me to complete my thought.

"If you don't mind... How do you know so well what's going on inside SAD? How did you get such detailed information as clues found by forensics or amounts of blows exchanged in capturings?"

It was a bold doubt, but I wasn't the type to be inhibited by a human. If I was curious, I would ask. He could be the mafia boss, but the worst he was going to do was not answer me

Could swear his brows drew together in a slightly fierce expression. But soon he transformed them into his affable smile.

"Spikey... These are the contacts, my champ." He got up from the table after downing the rest of the cup. "After all, it is a matter of good policy, you know? It's all about good politics."

He offered me a handshake and headed for the counter, where he started talking to the bar owner, who was no longer speaking to Gary and Boe.

After that I went for a breeze outside the bar, under the awning, and my friend Boe was there too, smoking his favorite imported cigarettes, Lights something.

"Sup?"

He shook his head. I brought up a trivial matter:

"And the ma'am and the kid?"

"They're home. Steve is in school now."

"How old is he now? Fifteen you said?"

"Sixteen this year."

We stood for a moment looking at the busy street from above the balcony. Boe asked:

"What about the boss, Spikey? What'd the boss say?"

"What do you mean?"

The boss didn't say anything important in particular, I figured it was a rhetorical question. But the intonation was different, as if Boe was waiting for me to say something of importance. I said what came to my mind, that is, what I remembered from the conversation:

"He only stressed that we should focus on the envelope, not on the alien."

"And forget about Jeffrey's brother."

"And forget about Jeffrey's brother," I agreed.

He threw the rest of his cigarette down the balcony and looked me straight for the first time:

"He was looking at us. Did he say anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"By the time he called Alfred... He was looking at us strangely."

"Is that so? I didn't notice."

"Look, Spikey... If you get too close to the boss and pass us behind..."

I turned to him with an unusual expression.

"Why would I do that, Boe? You know damn well I want nothing with humans. Just business."

There was a small piece of silence, so I decided to tell the part where the boss explained me why he chose such priority for the cases. I summed up to Boe how he talked about the relationship with the police, how he hoped SAD would be emphatic with the greens if we got too much attention, how the boss defined that we needed to use our 'talent' responsibly, how Jeffrey was wrong for having acted as he did on Tuesday.

My friend Boe listened to everything quietly. Then concluded:

"Did you see? This indicates he knows what's inside the envelope, doesn't it?"

"Yep... I think so too. Not that Spikey-Gary-Boe has anything to do with it, though. If he doesn't want to say anything about it, then let him not say it."

"But Spikey…" Boe nudged me with his arm, changing his tone to a whisper. "That confirms what I hinted you the other day, doesn't it? He knows everything that happens in SAD."

There was no refuting it. I thought it was exaggeration of his, but it seems it was like that.

"Which means..." He finished the sentence with inquiring and reticent intonation, as if waiting for me to complete it, pointing his index finger in my direction.

"Means what?"

"That there's a green employee at SAD. Doesn't it?"

He meant: a spy. An employee who worked for Verde.

"Maybe there is... And...?"

"And?" he chuckled, "what's that, Spikey? Your disinterest in humans is that great? Wouldn't you like to know who it is?"

"What do you mean? Do you know who it is?"

"I don't. But I'd love to."

"Why?"

"Now. Curiosity... Doesn't this tête-a-tête of undercover agents make you curious? Tattle is the luxury of alternative marginal life."

"And why don't you ask the boss?"

My friend Boe looked at me with disbelief:

"Not all can be achieved with honest conversation, Spikey. Especially when it comes to Verde. I notice that lately Verde seems to hide a lot from us."

At that moment Gary called to us from the door, interrupting the gossip:

"Pals!"

We stepped off the back of the porch and headed toward him.

"Let's get going? We have work to do!"