Friends (and Enemies) in High Places

Santo was a very busy man who needed to be in a lot of places at once. Fortunately for him, he had just as many connections to rely on to assist him. Often though it would require him to make a two hour round trip in his camo jeep from Nevertown to Glamor. It helped that he traveled on government roads to keep dangers to a minimum, but you could never be too careful, so he made sure to memorize the ideal route to his destination that didn’t overlap with gang territory.

The rusty gate entrance to Glamor always brought him relief and let him finally loosen his hold on the assault rifle he carried on him during his trip. He would drive past the latest and greatest of architecture, glass towers beautifully crafted to curve up to the heavens, which had certainly seen better days. Now mosaics of spiderweb cracks wrapped around them, prepared to collapse everything down back to earth. The brown, dirty streets contrasted with the sleek, neon cars that passed by, and the people were just as conflicting with those in rich, fancy suits walking past the filthy, tattered vagrants. Shattered glass remnants of a former bike path littered the streets and forced drivers to squeeze together to get around.

He pulled up his jeep into the garage of the machine repair shop, jumping out and walking straight inside. The man at the counter ruffled his short, sandy blond hair as he held a cigarette between in his fingers in one hand and his cell phone in another, his face scrunched up while talking with the person on the other line.

“If it’s a machine, I can fix it,” the man said. “But I’m not a damn plumber. Call someone else for your shitty problems.”

Green eyes pierced through oval glasses to see Santo strolling up and around the counter like he lived there. The man smirked and hung up the phone without another word, ignoring the yelling on the other end.

“Santo, buddy!” the man exclaimed in a much livelier tone compared to the customer. “What can I do for ya?”

“Hello, Talus,” Santo said casually. “I need you to stop by when you have the chance to fix the tractor again.”

“Seriously?” Talus sighed as he put out his cigarette. “You should talk that asshole into buying you a new one at this point. You’ve had it since the beginning, and knowing about planned obsolescence, five years sounds about right to get a replacement.”

Santo sighed along with him. “You may be right. I’m just worried with the old model outdated, getting a new model would mean having to teach the children how to use it all over again.”

“Might be faster this time though. Newer model means less instructions. They dumb it down further every time.”

“That is true…”

As the two adults were conversing, a curious head of bright red hair peeked out from the exit of the workshop, a pair of hazel eyes observing them with a freckled smile. Talus glanced over at the redhead, whose movements were neither quiet nor subtle.

“Ya finished with the heater, Ceri?” Talus asked the boy.

Ceri reversed his movements like a tape being played backwards, clearly caught in the act and forced to get back to work.

“Honestly,” Talus said sluggishly, “you would think with his birthday coming up, he would mature a little more.”

“He’ll be eighteen soon, correct?” Santo asked.

“Yep. He won’t shut up ‘bout being an adult soon and all the things he’ll do. Kids, am I right?”

Santo shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t know. None of the children are close to being prepared to even think about such things yet.”

“Ah, right. Isn’t the oldest like sixteen?”

“Actually, we just brought in a boy who is seventeen. He happens to be red haired as well, though much darker.”

“Get outta town!” Talus laughed and pulled another cigarette out of the carton, snapping his metal-tipped fingers together to ignite it with a spark. “Anyway, I can come over to fix the tractor tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Santo then turned to leave, knowing his time was limited and precious. He could have a fun chat another day. “I’m going to see Freya next. Should I send her your regards?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Talus’s smirk grew as he waved Santo off. “Catch ya later, buddy.”

Santo smiled back before heading off to his next destination, glad to know their bond hadn’t changed a bit in all these years.

His next destination was at the border between the most esteemed establishments and the seediest parts of the city. The hostess club ‘Sunset’ was comfortably on this line like the sun resting on the horizon, the logo’s golden lights with red and purple shifting hues beckoning people to come inside. The holographic billboards of beautiful women promised customers a good time at the right price, but they had to make sure they didn’t take the wrong turn going home.

The owner bowed to greet him and silently brought him inside, taking him to his usual table. The interior matched the outside building with sparkling, golden tables, and cushy, crimson seats. However, the dusk purple lightning made it difficult to see everything clearly, as noted when Santo struggled to check the time on his watch. Fortunately for him, he wasn’t going to have to wait long. He had set up an appointment after all. Otherwise, this meeting would be impossible.

The rhythmic clatter of black heels echoed off the marble floors, growing louder as someone approached Santo. The few men who were there during the slow lunch hours turned their eyes away from their hostess to take a gander at the bronze beauty in the black dress. If anyone saw the sales rankings for the hostess club, they would know Freya Fatin never once went below the top three since she started working there, so her sharp, unblemished face was familiar even to newcomers. Her pictures all previewed her with her chocolate locks tied up in some fashion, but today she had it down, allowing them to gently wave down to her chest.

Santo raised his head from his watch to confirm that it was indeed the lady of the hour, greeting her with a soft smile.

“It’s good to see you, Freya,” he said. “I hope you’ve been well.”

“As well as I can be, dear,” Freya replied as she smoothly slid down next to him. “You know how it is.”

“I know. Talus sends his regards.”

“How sweet. You can tell him he has my thanks.”

A pitcher of orange juice and a bowl of mixed nuts were brought to the table, and Freya gracefully performed the service of pouring Santo a glass for him. The bill for all of this was going to cost the same as a luxurious dinner anywhere else, but people weren’t paying for a meal. They were paying for the lovely company.

Since he was paying by the hour, Santo went straight to business by asking, “Anything new about Gold Finger?”

Freya shook her head. “No, it’s about the same. Business is moving along, but no major shipments or exchanges planned.”

“I see…” He picked at a few nuts while he paused to think. “Then he is in no rush to capture birds or mine for pellets.”

“More or less.”

‘Gold Finger’ was a secret code between them for a particular client of hers. A client that Santo was going to have a very important meeting with after this. This person had more power and influence than he deserved, so being careful when mentioning him seemed like common sense.

Freya plucked a nut from the bowl with two long, thin fingers, staring down at the dark, roasted piece that matched her eyes. “He’s a surprisingly patient man. Every day he invites me to come have dinner with him at his mansion, and every day I refuse. He’s not going to stop until I say yes one of these days. He likes me that much. I could splash a glass of wine in his face, and he would still rate me a five-star service.”

Santo frowned, concerned, and placed a gentle hand on hers. “He hasn’t done anything to you, has he?”

“Goodness, no!” Freya answered with a laugh, then adjusted her hand so she was holding his. “He stated outright that he wanted to stay ‘faithful to his wife’ and keep our company pure. Of all the men I’ve dealt with in my life, he’s the only one who has meant it.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, somewhat confused. “I don’t count among those men?”

Her elegant smile widened into a goofy, playful grin, shattering the cool persona she was supposed to keep on for customers. “Are you serious? You’re in a category of your own!” Having completely given up being professional for the remaining hour, she grabbed a fistful of nuts and shoved them into her mouth, grinding her jaw like a camel as she spat out, “Okay, enough of that, dear! I don’t want to talk about that pig anymore. Tell me about the kids! How are they?”

Unaffected by this change of behavior, Santo spent the rest of their time together talking about Nevertown. Freya listened to him intently with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, asking questions about each child mentioned and trying to remember their names. They were able to lean back to relax in their seats and share a good chuckle here and there, hanging out as friends rather than hostess and client. Their merriment soon came to end as the bill was placed on to the table with a loud, silencing drop. The two put their professional masks back on, cutting off any semblance of fun by standing up and thanking each other in a stoic, robotic fashion.

“Please come again, dear,” Freya stated in her cool persona as Santo made his exit.

With his friends taken care of, it was finally time to deal with the main reason for his trip to Glamor. Not that there was anything wrong with taking a detour or two, just that it wasn’t necessary. If he really needed them, Talus and Freya were a simple phone call away at any time. They didn’t mind coming to Nevertown despite the distance, and even offered to help on their free days. He appreciated such kind friends, but he didn’t want to take advantage of them when they had other responsibilities. This next part especially was something he had to do alone.

Their meeting location was never the same spot twice in a row. Sometimes it was in an office, sometimes it was in a villa, and sometimes like today it was out in public. He had let Freya help herself to the nuts since he was going to a café anyway. It was a simple, quaint French café with red, striped umbrellas and ivory laced décor. The neatly trimmed bushes wrapped around the outside dining area as a border separating the peasants from the paying customers.

Santo walked up to the waiter at the entrance and said, “I’m here for my reservation with Mr. Midas.”

The waiter checked the list and nodded in confirmation. “Yes, right away, sir.”

Under the shadows of the umbrellas lurked a man of hairless flesh that eagerly waited with a pearly, white grin from ear to ear. His fat fingers coated in golden, jeweled rings drummed the top of his rotund stomach dressed in the finest of white suits money could buy. Golden amber eyes gleamed through the shade as they caught sight of Santo’s arrival.

“You’re on time as always,” Mr. Midas said with a voice that dripped as thick as molasses. “I do hope you didn’t have any trouble getting here.”

“No, I was fine,” Santo replied as he sat down across from him. His gaze shifted to the guard in the black suit hiding in Mr. Midas’s blind spot. His slicked back, platinum blond hair and muscular build reminded him of heroes in comic books. A pair of silver-grey eyes peeked from behind the guard’s sunglasses when he noticed Santo looking at him, immediately suspicious.

Noticing this, Mr. Midas waved a hand between the two of them. “Oh, don’t mind him! He’s my new guard. Came back from the war recently and needed a new job. Such a fine solider, isn’t he?”

“I would say so,” Santo said. He couldn’t argue with the facts. The way the guard carried himself with his upright posture and stern demeanor was like every other serious solider he had seen. It was because of men like them patrolled everywhere that no bandit would dare go near the government roads, so their service was highly regarded and respected.

Two bowls of seafood bisque and a bottle of centuries old wine was served to the table. Santo almost felt bad ruining the beautifully decorated cream on top of perfectly yellow soup to eat it. However, as rich and creamy as it was, something about the taste left much to be desired. He wished Nina was here to provide insight. As for the half-filled glass of wine, it had the right balance of sweet and tart to it, so at least he had that to make this experience more pleasant.

“So… the bridge,” Mr. Midas finally said to break the awkward silence. “I have a new offer this time. Fifty million AND two mansions anywhere you want in the world.”

Santo rolled his eyes. When Freya complained about his stubbornness earlier, she was really preaching to the choir. “It is not for sale. I doubt you’re in a rush for your latest shipment, so I’m fine with merely one hundred thousand for the entire month.”

Mr. Midas giggled, almost mockingly. “Yes, yes! How thoughtful of you. I would very much prefer that over a specific day or week. You have a deal.”

“Excellent,” Santo said in an emotionless, deadpan voice.

Pleased with the deal, Mr. Midas was wiggling his short, stubby legs like a school child as the main course arrived. While Mr. Midas was digging straight into his croque-monsieur, Santo was signing the permission contract with the guard to let them use the bridge. Making it a month wasn’t meant to be in Mr. Mida’s benefit, but rather an excuse to give Santo a break from him for a while. Not that he needed to know that, yet Santo doubted he would care. Just like he didn’t care that Santo ordered the steak tartare to make the exchange as expensive as possible.

“Thank you, Mr. Cyneweard,” the guard said politely once it was all completed.

Santo gave him an equally polite smile in return and said, “It’s no problem. You can call me Santo, if you like.”

“Or Mr. Santo,” Mr. Midas added after washing down his food with a swig of wine. “That’s what those brats call you, right?”

Santo suppressed the sharp sting of annoyance creeping up on him and let out a laugh. “Yes, yes. In general, Santo seems to be easier for everyone to say.”

“Mhm. Makes sense.” Mr. Midas wiped his mouth with a clothed napkin. “It would be easier for everyone to call me Edgar, but only the missus can call me that. I have a brand to maintain after all!”

“I understand. How is she by the way?”

Mr. Midas sighed and patted his chest. “Oh, you know how women are. Always nagging! Get me this, buy me that, do this for me! I love my little gold nugget, but she doesn’t have a single graceful bone in her body. Now if she was as calm and demure as those Sunset girls, then I’d be one happy husband!”

Santo tried not to wince when he thought of Freya. “R… Right…”

“Ah, but I’m not worried. She’s like that because she doesn’t have a baby yet. I know that will change her tune when we get around to it!”

Luckily, a silver tower of assorted macarons was put down between them before that thought could linger. Santo saw this as a chance to make his escape.

“Speaking of infants, I need to get back to them as soon as possible,” Santo said as he quickly took a pink macaron and stood up. “I’ll have to take one for the road.”

“Aw, so soon?” Mr. Midas replied with a forced frown, but then shrugged it off in favor of eating his dessert. “Fine. I know more than anyone time is money. You got yours, so we’re done here. It was good doing business with you.”

“Yes, thank you.”

And so the big city trip had come to an end. Santo could at last return to Nevertown where he belonged. The heavy weight and stress of the city lifted off his shoulders the moment he parked at the entrance and was greeted with several children gleefully gathering around him, their bright eyes and tiny hands tugging all around him.

“Mr. Santo! Mr. Santo! Over here!”

“Welcome home, Mr. Santo!”

“I did a backflip today, Mr. Santo! Wanna see?”

“Mr. Santo, I ate a bug! I’m gonna throw up!”

It was good to be home.