Tattoo: The Books of Glory

a webserial about people who are not like us

Tattoo Book 7 part 2.2

Posted by harmony0stars on May 2, 2011

“Oh my god.” Glory looked around the room in disgust. It was probably the most unsavory place she’d ever been, and she’d once taken a peek in Aaron’s bedroom.

For three people, it might as well have been a closet. With three beds, a wardrobe, and a dresser crammed into the space, there was hardly enough room for one, let alone three people. Someone had taken the time to paint the walls and ceiling… on numerous occasions from the looks of it. It didn’t appear as though the paint had been thick enough to accomplish much however. The water and mildew stains were more than visible through the inadequate layers, and since the last coat, more stains had appeared. There was an overwhelming smell of cigarettes, despite a strong draft of cool air from the window. Even from where she stood, Glory could see the pane did not close right, and there was a gap of a few centimeters.

“I’ve stayed in worse,” Steiner grunted. Redfield stowed the bags he carried against the dresser, while his partner let go of his burdens at the foot of the bed, releasing them rather than bending to set them down. “What’s the matter? It doesn’t meet with her majesty’s high standards?”

Glory turned to glare at him. He‘d been riding her with snide little comments for long enough. He obviously did not handle rejection well, assuming Redfield had even told him about their discussion. “For your information, I slept in Central Park, under a tree, for months after my mother died. The park was cleaner than this dump.”

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room. “I’ll take first watch,” Redfield finally said, nudging the stained coverlet of the nearest bed with his foot as if afraid it might attack. “You want to go get us some take out?”

“You think that’s wise?” Steiner opened the wardrobe and made a face at the sagging shelf and rusted bar inside. “They have a kitchen here.”

“Dude, I am not eating here… and I’m pretty sure the website said it’s only open for breakfast,” he called the last over his shoulder as he went into the bathroom. “And there’s the other thing!” He yelled through the door, his voice muffled.

“Fine, whatever,” Steiner muttered, followed by what sounds like “screw it.” Hunching his shoulders, he marched back out of the room, flinging the door shut behind him.

Glory glared at the nearest bed. They looked at least as unsavory as the surrounding walls. Peeling back the coverlet, she let it drop with a gasp of disgust, happier than ever that sleep was something she could opt out of.

“Yeah…” Redfield said, returning from the bathroom and wiping his hands in his legs, it seemed for want of a better place to dry them. “I feel the same way about that bathroom. Yikes!”

There being nowhere else to sit aside from the beds, Glory opted for the floor. Planting herself cross-legged in a corner, she pulled out her laptop and breathed shallowly through her mouth until the nauseating smell of mildew lost its bite. “You should call Steiner and tell him to pick up garbage bags as well as food.”

“What? Why?” In reply, Glory nodded to the bed. Biting his lip, he lifted the cover and let it drop again. “Ugh! Last time I let Steiner set up the seedy arrangements.”

“At least the wifi works,” she grumbled, then looked up. “He intentionally went looking for something seedy? This is because of what happened at the airport, isn‘t it?”

“Uh, well… there wasn’t much time to discuss it with you before we boarded.” He lifted her bag to get it out from underfoot, straining at its weight. “What the hell do you have in here?” he asked, a comedic look of perplexity on his face.

“Don‘t attempt to change the subject.” She grabbed the bag from his hand and let it drop against the wall beside her. It was just clothes; it wasn’t that heavy.

Redfield plopped down on the edge of the nearest bed. He froze as his posterior hit the surface, perhaps thinking better of the idea, then shrugged. “Well there wasn’t much time to set up an official visit. The old man hoped that having you foot the bill would put them off, but we set up this place just in case.”

“Who’s them?”

He sat and stared at her for a second, his mouth half open and his eyes uncertain, like a deer caught in the headlights of oncoming traffic. No doubt he was wondering just how much he was allowed to say. Before he could respond however, there was a knock at the door. Looking like the reprieved allowed a stay of execution, he jumped to his feet and headed to the door, not that he had more than a few steps to take to reach it.

At the last minute he seemed to think better of it and patted his pocket. “Who is it?” he called.

“We’re not going to play this game, Trevor. So be a love and open the dammed door.” The woman’s voice held just a hint of irritation.

Redfield froze. “Former girlfriend?” Glory suggested, and he turned his head to look at her, his eyes practically bugging out of his head.

“How the hell…?”

“Trev,” the woman called sweetly. “I won’t ask again.”

Like a man doomed, shoulders sagging and head bowed, he reached out and opened the door for their guest. The woman who entered was small and plump and smartly dressed and looked nothing like an secret agent so much as a punk trying to break into real estate. Despite her business-like attire, he hair was three different shades and all of them clashing with her pink suit jacket and skirt. If she had worn a more neutral color or attempted to tame her locks, the effect might not have been so striking, but she stood out like a sore thumb, even her facial piercings didn’t have the impact of her wildly incompatible color scheme.

“Sweetheart!” she cried, clasping him around the middle, as if she hadn’t been threatening him with undisclosed harm if he didn’t open up.

to Book 7, part 2, page 3

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2 Responses to “Tattoo Book 7 part 2.2”

  1. Emote Control said

    I like this new character, punks in horror stories always appealed to me.

    • Thanks 🙂 Hopefully I don’t make her too stereotypical. I listen to some punk music -Zombina and the Skeletones (Springheeled Jack and Counting on Your Suicide are AWESOME), Anthrax (who doesn’t?), The Clash… but I really haven’t met too many punks in person. Do you listen to anything Punk? Kind of wanted to make her a bit of a music geek, but my tastes are all over the place.

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