A Coincidental Meeting

Charlot sat in the club, flanked by guards, smoking a Cuban cigar. They were illegal in the US, but hey--so was he. He wore a long, purple jacket lined with real fur, and his shoes were so polished they reflected the strobe lights.

All he had to do now was wait. That thieving bastard's shift was soon; he would come sooner or later.

He shoved him against the wall, but the music in the club was so loud nobody noticed.

"Don't. Say. A. Word," he hissed through his clenched teeth, his mouth pulled into a nasty snarl. This was accentuated by the fact that his lips were tattooed grimly to appear as a mouth with no skin. His eyes were deep and sunken in, dark black circles on his otherwise attractive face. "If you make any noise, I'll slit your throat."

Everly held a serrated knife to the man's throat, making the promise of slitting it all the more realistic.

The pathetic man whimpered, his short, pink hair slicked back on his head. "I don't know," he whimpered. "I never saw her here! I wasn't even working, I swear!"

Unamused, Everly ground his teeth together. "Tell the truth."

The guy just burst into tears, and Everly shoved him against the wall once more. What he didn't know, was that on the other side of the thin wall, there was a man smoking a Cuban cigar. A man he had been looking for for a very long time. A man who whose throat was more worth slitting.

Everly grabbed the man by his hair.

"I will scalp you, if you don't start talking."

Charlot heard a loud noise, somewhere beside his head. At first, he took it to be the blaring beat of the music. When he heard it again, he snapped for his men to flank him as he stood up.

"One of you go find the room behind that wall," he said, moving to the bar. "If that rat thinks he can get the jump on me, he's wrong.

Everly threw the man onto the ground, having gotten the information he needed.

"Now get the hell out of my face before I decide to slit your throat after all."

One of Charlot's body guards slowly crept up behind Everly, watching from behind a corner. Was this man here to kill the boss? he could've sworn there had been rumors about a man of this description; the tattoo seemed like far too much of a coincidence.

He hid, tensing his muscles for a surprise attack. He could use the bonus from killing a potential assassin--he could buy his wife that pretty diamond necklace for their anniversary.

He took a single step closer, already able to feel the gilded chain sliding between his fingers.

Knife in hand, Everly contemplated his next course of action. She had probably already left the city. He was just hours too late, again. Her plane had left just an hour ago. Unless he had money for a plane himself, there was no way he could dream of catching up.

Frustrated, he reached into his pocket and brought out a pack of cigarettes. He ground his teeth together, but the itch was there. How badly he wanted to light up. He crushed them in his hands and threw him onto the floor, his pretty silver lighter falling from the pack as he did so. He bent to pick up the lighter, when the reflection revealed someone behind him. He flipped it open and lit his lighter as he stood and turned to face his attacker.

"Are you married?" he asked the man, toying with the lighter.

The man ran at him, yelling, reaching for his gun and at the same time ready to take of Everly's head with one very large, very dark fist.

With the flick of his wrist, Everly threw the knife at his forehead.

The man died before he could scream; he just crumpled to the ground, the impact driving the knife deeper into his brain.

Everly sighed deeply, removing the knife and wiping it on the man's clothes to clean the blood and gore. He picked up the body guard and shoved him out of the way. He made his way into the club, looking for someone who looked important enough to have a guard. He found him and walked over to him.

"One of your men is dead," he said casually. "You might want to hire a new one."

"And how do you know that?" asked Charlot, amused. He signaled for his other guard to stand back. "Why, he only left a second ago--I can't imagine he's gone far."

Suddenly, he realized who, exactly, he was standing in front of. He could hardly believe it. The man he had been hunting for so long. Right in front of his nose. It would be so easy to kill him...but so much trouble. No, he'd have to wait until they were alone. Wait for the proper moment. Always waiting.

"There," he motioned to where he had stashed the man. "I know because I killed him. I thought that was obvious."

"Interesting!" exclaimed Charlot, banging his hand on the table. He had a deep, low baritone, and his whole body shook when he laughed.

"And what do you do for work, sir?" he asked, grinning broadly. Something about his white teeth and the dark rings around his eyes made him seem oddly skeletal, as though he was on his deathbed.

"I'm currently out of a job," he said. It was the truth, after all. While he was busy looking for his wife, he didn't have time to do jobs, anymore. "But I can guarantee you that the work you do...Well, I'm not interested."

"It's a shame," he said, sighing. He cracked his knuckles; the many rings he wore glinted in the light.

"Ah, well. You may go, and I won't chase after you--Theo was getting sloppy indeed. Probably thinking of that slut wife of his again. I'm only sorry you cannot replace him."

"Do you mind if I stay and chat?" Everly asked, as he toyed with the lighter in his hands. "You might still convince me to work with you, after all. All men can be convinced to do anything, eventually."

"Why not?" he said, patting the seat next to him. "In fact, I'm here for a job myself--waiting for him to arrive. Would you like a drink, my friend?"

"I don't drink," he said as he sat down. He put his lighter into his pocket, hoping to forget about her while he weaseled his way into the lap of a man he would eventually kill.

"What a coincidence," he said, placing a hand on Everly's thigh and grinning. "Neither do I, when I'm working. What's your name, friend? Mine is Charlot."

Everly wanted to stare at the hand invading his personal space, but he knew he couldn't. In fact, he wasn't sure what the right move was. Did he expect him to comment, or to stay silent? He hoped that the man didn't expect anything from him that he wasn't willing to give. Though Everly was loathe to admit it, he found that when confronted with the thought, he supposed that sleeping with him in order to kill him would be acceptable. But he pretended that he didn't think that.

"Sid Everly, but everyone calls me Everly," he said. The only people who called him Everly weren't talking anymore, but he found that piece of information relatively unnecessary to add to the conversation.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, extending his hand. "What brings you to this club, anyway? Surely you didn't show up just to kill my guard."

Everly shook his hand, the man's skin nearly a match to the dark tattoos covering his hands.

"Personal business. Your guard...got in the way," he replied. "I'm looking for someone. He knew where she was. But she's long gone, and I'm running out of options."

"My condolences," he said, bowing his head. "I'm looking for something as well."

"If your something has ugly dyed hair, you might be out of luck," he replied, smiling ever so slightly. "I don't think he's coming back. If that's the case, then my condolences to you."

He laughed loudly, patting Everly on the shoulder.

"Oh non, non! I'm looking for an item, you see. Not a person."