The Walker
25

Walker sat at the shadowy booth and motioned for Daisy to join him. She sat on the red leather and marvelled at how soft it felt. She leaned back, looking on as Walker rolled himself a cigarette, sipping her fresh glass of whiskey the waiter had brought. She began watching the dancers to her right, twisting and jerking with the thumping bass.

Walker drummed his fingers on the table, impatiently. He had drunk his whiskey in one and now scowled around the room, his normally easy smile replaced with a thin lipped frown.

“So, who’s this Mr Charles?” she asked.

Walker’s fingers continued their rhythmic drumming. “An old contact of mine. Charlie.”

Daisy nodded and sipped at her drink, “You don’t like him?”

Walker stopped drumming the table and looked at her sharply. He stayed quiet for some time, then agreed. “Not a lot, girl. Very astute of you.”

Daisy couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but left it. “What are we doing here, then?” she asked.

His fingers began their tapping anew, the staccato beat rumbled on the table, and up Daisy’s arm. “Asking a lot of questions, aren’t we?”

Daisy shrugged at him, “Well, I’ve come this far. I just want to know what we’re doing here.”

Walker shrugged back, “Fair enough. Charlie sells things. I need something specific from him.”

Daisy swirled her drink, watching the smoky liquid as it nearly spilled over the edges. “So why have you only just come here?”

Walker looked out over to the dance floor, where the people were still stomping and twirling to the music.

Daisy pressed on, “I mean, if you’ve been wandering around, looking for something specific, why only come to Charlie now?”

Walker turned his gaze back to Daisy. “The country is a big place, girl. It takes a long time for anyone to get anywhere. And,” he paused, still tapping, “When it takes so long to get anywhere, or do anything, you have to be sure of what you are doing.”

She mulled this over in her head. “You don’t trust him?”

Walker grunted and turned towards her. As always, his eyes were hidden, but his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “Hard to trust something like that, lass”

She frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean, that?” But she was interrupted by Charlie’s arrival.

He was short, probably shorter than she was, but wide. His shoulders indicated that, at some point, he’d been in fine physical shape. His chest was still wide and powerful looking, but he had the middle stages of a beer belly which, oddly, suited him; he was dressed smartly in an old fashioned pinstriped suit, cleverly stitched to make his stomach seem impressive instead of just fat. He wore dark glasses, but she could make out twinkly mischievous eyes through the dark plastic.

“Alright my son,” He began, in an accent she didn’t recognise.

He extended his hand towards Walker, who ignored it. He shrugged, turned to Daisy and lifted his glasses. He flashed a sly smile and winked at her. She felt a quick heat flush at her cheeks and wished she hadn’t drunk her whiskey so quickly. She flicked her visor down, so Charlie couldn’t see her eyes, and he laughed.

“Don’t worry bird,” Charlie crowed, “You ain’t my type” He winked again, “Scoot then, scoot!” he waved his arms at her, indicating she should move up.

He squeezed himself into the curved booth, stomach resting gently against the table. He waved to a waiter and held up three fingers. The man nodded and headed to the bar. Daisy peered closer at Charlie. Something about him felt... off.

He had a cool, disarming charm, certainly, and his mannerisms seemed right. But there was something about his eyes; they were too bright, and his skin was just a little too shiny. The strobing lights in the club made everyone’s skin flash and change unnaturally, changing even the most beautiful faces into waxy, leering masks, but the way his bald head gleamed reminded her of a silver moon.

“Back again I see, my son. Enjoying your stay?” he nodded to Walker, who scowled back.

“You know I hate the city, Charlie. I came to ask some questions. I assume you still deal?”

Charlie smiled winningly, as the waiter brought them fresh drinks. He picked his colourful glass up. It had a pink umbrella, with what looked like a little green bird on a stick floating in it. He sipped through the straw, his pudgy little finger sticking out daintily.

Smacking his lips appreciatively, he replied, “Now, now, now, Richard, not even a hello?”

Daisy glanced at Walker; the fingers on his left hand had twitched at the name.

“What a way to treat a long lost mate!”

He turned to Daisy, who was holding her fresh glass loosely; it smelled strongly of liquorice. “That’s old Walker for you though, innit? That’s sambuca, by the way. Put ’airs on your chest, just what a young lady like yourself wants, eh?” He laughed loudly and sipped at his drink again. “Now,” he continued, placing his drink carefully on a fresh beer mat. “You know full well what I do, son. Finest purveyor of goods this side of anywhere.”

Walker grunted again and downed his drink. He still looked uncomfortable, refusing to sit back in the booth seats.

Daisy sniffed at her drink as Charlie carried on. “I’m a club owner, and proprietor of entertaining peoples and acts, all legal and above board. The boys in black even come down here, now and again. None tonight. Yet. Lucky for you”

He laughed again, as Walker leaned forward. Daisy could feel the anger pouring off of him. “Careful, mate” Walker growled, “Not in front of the girl.”

Daisy bristled slightly. She went to speak, but Charlie interrupted by standing suddenly. He leant his knuckles on the table and his voice took on a darker, nastier tone.

“Listen up, sunshine,” he snarled. “You ain’t the big man in these parts. You’re all alone. And that means I ‘old all the cards, see? So you mind your manners while we do business an’ I won’t call your old mucker down from on high, alright?”

He reached in to his suit and produced a cigar, long and thin. He lit it, drawing deeply and exhaling vile smelling smoke. Daisy struggled not to cough, wafting the smoke from her face. Even with the visor down, it stung her eyes.

Walker didn’t react. Charlie grinned nastily. “So,” Charlie said, smoothing his suit and sitting himself back down. He leaned back in the booth, cigar in hand, his previous cheeky smile again on his face. “Not told her who you are then, mate?” He raised an eyebrow, stirring his drink with the bird on a stick, “Best mind what I say then, hadn’t I?”

Walker remained still and quiet, which worried Daisy. She watched the two of them carefully.

“So,” Charlie continued, turning his gaze from Walker to Daisy, “who’ve you brought along this time?” He exhaled again, and this time she couldn’t help it; she coughed.

“Aw, I’m sorry” he said, theatrically waving at the air. “I’ll put this out for now”.

He leaned forward and dropped the cigar into the ice at the bottom of his glass. Daisy was about to reply, when he suddenly darted forward and grabbed her by the chin. She gasped as he retracted her visor. He pulled her forward, so that they were almost nose to nose. She struggled to free herself, as his eyes shone into hers.

“Let go!” she cried, grabbed his arm; it felt hard through the suit’s material.

“A nice young filly you got yourself here, Walker” Charlie said, still staring into her eyes. He laughed, but with no humour.

“Probably about twenty years. Not chipped, so from, oh, out there somewhere,” He waved vaguely with his free hand, smirking at Walker, “Like the last one. That boy.”

Daisy looked back into Charlie’s eyes; they were too bright, the wrong way round, like little lights in pools of darkness; his pupils glowed of their own accord. She battered her free hand against his chest, totally unnoticed by Charlie. She swivelled her eyes madly towards Walker, noticed he had bristled, but hadn’t moved to help.

Her breath started to quicken; Walker was not going to help her.

Charlie leered at her. “Wonder how long this un’ll last for then? Oh?” He stopped leering and looked down. Daisy had her gun pressed firmly against his ribs. Charlie chuckled and carefully let go of her face.

“No need for that, young lady. Was just checking who you are.” He waggled an eyebrow at her as she glared up at him. “Put it away nice and slow, and I’ll get us a drink, shall I?”

He smiled and sat back as Daisy removed her gun, rubbing at her chin. Charlie stuck a hand in the air and, again as if by magic, a waiter came over.

“Summink fruity for me, mate, and whatever these two want. Whiskey? Cider? Eh?”

When Walker and Daisy ignored him, he turned to the waiter, “Best make it a whiskey each, son.” The waiter nodded and moved off, as Daisy shuffled away from him.

“What’s your name then, missy?” he asked her, as if nothing had just happened.

Daisy looked at him, nonplussed, eyes still watering. His grip really had been strong. “Why would I tell you anything? You’re lucky I don’t shoot you, never mind him!”

She glanced at Walker, who merely shrugged.

“Now, now, don’t get arsey on me love,” he said, as the waiter returned with their drinks. Charlie’s eyes gleamed happily at the new drink in front of him, which was even brighter and more garish than the last. “No harm done and all that, just needed to see who you are,” He sniffed his drink and stirred it with a new plastic stirrer, which had a bright red dog on the top “Or who you were.”

He shot her a fresh grin and drank. The sugar from the rim of the glass coated his lips. She scowled at the man in front of her.

“It’s Daisy,” she spat.

Charlie nodded. “Nice name love, nice name. Don’t get many daisies growing these days, but you’ve done alright.”

“What did you mean by chipped?” she asked. She had never heard the word before, except when talking about potatoes.

Charlie pursed his lips and placed his drink down. “Oh, just the term we use for inner-city types, might come in here looking to trick ole Charlie. But you’re alright, not a bug in you.”

Daisy opened her mouth but Walker interrupted again. She scowled at him. “Enough games, Charlie. I’ve come here to ask a favour.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow and looked back to Walker, sipping at his cocktail. “A favour he says?”

He put down his drink and licked the sugar crust from around his mouth, making a smacking noise. “That’s fine, me old mucker, ask away!” He grinned his boyish, happy grin, as Daisy rubbed at her face.

As Walker opened his mouth to speak, Charlie interrupted, “But you gotta do me one first, alright?”

Walker closed his mouth and resumed his scowl as Charlie continued. “There’s this guy, needs a helpin’ hand, sort of thing. He’s one of those junkies, addicted to the VR helmets, I’m doin’ me bit as a member of the community and all that. All you gotta do is take him some cash. Easy, right?”

Daisy broke in, despite herself. “VR? What does that mean?”

“Virtual Reality.” Walker grunted, “Like the man you met in the alley. Be quiet, girl.”

Daisy glared at him again. She knew he did it on purpose, but it still annoyed her.

Charlie took a noisy slurp of his drink and sighed happily. “Bloody lovely stuff, this; you should try it. Synthesised fruit juice, o’ course, can’t grow the pomegranates ’round here.” He took another drink, and turned to Daisy again, who flinched slightly.

“Virtual Reality Helmet, takes ’em to a new place. Only in their ‘eads, o’ course. Some daft buggers get lost in there though. Big ole place, the human mind. No truck with it meself.” He chuckled and turned back to Walker. “The bloke ain’t dangerous, so don’t gotta worry about that. He’ll see those big ole blasters you two brought in here, you cheeky sods, and probably shit his pants. Oops!” He stopped and placed a hand theatrically over his mouth, “Slip o’ the tongue, Daisy, I do apologise. Such language in front of a lady.”

It was her turn to scowl; she could see why Walker didn’t like this grinning idiot. “Fuck this. I’m going to the bar.”

Charlie laughed, clapping, while Walker watched moodily. “Got a temper on her, Walker. I like a bit o’ fire in a lady!”

As she got up, she purposefully bumped the table, spilling Charlie’s drink. He stopped laughing, and she turned to him with her hand placed over her mouth. “Oh dear,” she cried in mock sorrow, “I’ve spilled your drink and now your suit’s wet. Such a shame!”

She thought he would react badly, maybe threaten her, give her a chance to get even for his rough hands earlier, but he merely laughed, harder.

“That’s alright gal,” he chortled. “You go over to the bar and wait for the adults to be finished. I’ll see to it my lot serve you, free o’ charge.” He winked, grinning and turned back to Walker, who hadn’t moved.

Daisy stood there, looking at the back of his head shining in the light. The man was insufferable! And Walker did nothing. Not that she really expected him to. She rubbed at her chin and stalked off through the club towards the bar, knocking one drunken man over and taking a drink from another.