hotel he plugged both phones into the electrical outlets to make sure they had a charge.
The bathroom door opened and Nadeesha walked out with a towel wrapped around her body. She had just gotten out of the shower. A red cocktail dress hung in the closet on a hanger.
“If you need to take a shower, do it now because I need time to get ready.”
She wasn't kidding. A makeup kit was laid out on the bed.
Deckard figured she was trying to drop a hint on him, and so he took a shower and changed into some fresh clothes. Henderson had made a postmortem clothing donation, Diesel jeans, another button-down shirt, and black shoes. When he came out of the bathroom, still drying his hair, Nadeesha was standing over her makeup case. She had somehow fit herself into the impossibly tight dress. The shoulder straps were undone and hung off her brown shoulders. Her chest looked like it was about to burst out of the dress at any moment.
“Come here,” she said as she turned around.
All business , Deckard told himself as he zipped up her dress.
“Take one of the cell phones. I programmed each phone's number into the other. There is an app on the phone that you can press with one tap and it will bring up a distress message on the other phone. There is also a geo-location feature in case you lose track of me.”
Then, she turned her head to look back at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Don't lose me,” she stated flatly.
“I won't.”
“Good. Now go find something to do, and be ready for me in the bar downstairs in forty-five minutes. I have to take care of a few things.”
“Which of us is going to take this guy out, or both?”
“I handle that. I will call you when its done and for a pickup.”
Deckard grabbed one of the cell phones and pulled out the charger. Nadeesha tugged at the top of her dress to try to get comfortable in it. She did sexy amazingly well, but clearly she felt more comfortable doing shorts, a t-shirt, and a sub-machine gun. He didn't blame her.
“Later,” he said as he closed the door behind him.
Outside, Deckard returned to their rental. Inside, he quickly rolled down the windows and blasted the air conditioning.
He did have something to do before they got started. While at the shopping mall he had also picked up an 11-piece steak knife cutting set. Using some duct tape he gotten at the hardware store, he cut pieces of cardboard and made improvised sheathes by folding the cardboard back on itself.
Then, he rolled back his sleeves, put the steak knives in their sheaths, and pressed them under his forearms while ringing rolls of duct tape over the cardboard and around his forearms. Once both knives were in place he rolled his sleeves back down. He would have to be careful. The improvised weapons would be concealed better if he was wearing a jacket, which he would if they ended up in another venue with mega air conditioning but otherwise it would just look out of place in the desert heat.
Even at night, the temperature would only drop from about 110 during the day down to about 95 degrees. It still felt like staring into a blow dryer, and it was almost 11pm. Locking up the car, he made his way back into the hotel and took a seat at the end of the bar.
His cell phone began to vibrate. It was Nadeesha texting him to announce that she would be down in a few minutes. Deckard walked into the bar and sat at a table where he could keep an eye on the entrance, the bar itself, and most of the tables. When the waitress arrived, he ordered a beer. Drinking was permissible for non-Muslims.
As he sipped the beer, his mind staggered for a moment as he wondered who was mean-mugging him across the bar. He didn't even recognize his reflection in the mirror anymore. Although he was still in his thirties, he had grown old, gone through several more life cycles than most people do. He was bitter. Restless.
War was the only time the world made sense to him. Putting boots to asses was the only satisfaction he
The bathroom door opened and Nadeesha walked out with a towel wrapped around her body. She had just gotten out of the shower. A red cocktail dress hung in the closet on a hanger.
“If you need to take a shower, do it now because I need time to get ready.”
She wasn't kidding. A makeup kit was laid out on the bed.
Deckard figured she was trying to drop a hint on him, and so he took a shower and changed into some fresh clothes. Henderson had made a postmortem clothing donation, Diesel jeans, another button-down shirt, and black shoes. When he came out of the bathroom, still drying his hair, Nadeesha was standing over her makeup case. She had somehow fit herself into the impossibly tight dress. The shoulder straps were undone and hung off her brown shoulders. Her chest looked like it was about to burst out of the dress at any moment.
“Come here,” she said as she turned around.
All business , Deckard told himself as he zipped up her dress.
“Take one of the cell phones. I programmed each phone's number into the other. There is an app on the phone that you can press with one tap and it will bring up a distress message on the other phone. There is also a geo-location feature in case you lose track of me.”
Then, she turned her head to look back at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Don't lose me,” she stated flatly.
“I won't.”
“Good. Now go find something to do, and be ready for me in the bar downstairs in forty-five minutes. I have to take care of a few things.”
“Which of us is going to take this guy out, or both?”
“I handle that. I will call you when its done and for a pickup.”
Deckard grabbed one of the cell phones and pulled out the charger. Nadeesha tugged at the top of her dress to try to get comfortable in it. She did sexy amazingly well, but clearly she felt more comfortable doing shorts, a t-shirt, and a sub-machine gun. He didn't blame her.
“Later,” he said as he closed the door behind him.
Outside, Deckard returned to their rental. Inside, he quickly rolled down the windows and blasted the air conditioning.
He did have something to do before they got started. While at the shopping mall he had also picked up an 11-piece steak knife cutting set. Using some duct tape he gotten at the hardware store, he cut pieces of cardboard and made improvised sheathes by folding the cardboard back on itself.
Then, he rolled back his sleeves, put the steak knives in their sheaths, and pressed them under his forearms while ringing rolls of duct tape over the cardboard and around his forearms. Once both knives were in place he rolled his sleeves back down. He would have to be careful. The improvised weapons would be concealed better if he was wearing a jacket, which he would if they ended up in another venue with mega air conditioning but otherwise it would just look out of place in the desert heat.
Even at night, the temperature would only drop from about 110 during the day down to about 95 degrees. It still felt like staring into a blow dryer, and it was almost 11pm. Locking up the car, he made his way back into the hotel and took a seat at the end of the bar.
His cell phone began to vibrate. It was Nadeesha texting him to announce that she would be down in a few minutes. Deckard walked into the bar and sat at a table where he could keep an eye on the entrance, the bar itself, and most of the tables. When the waitress arrived, he ordered a beer. Drinking was permissible for non-Muslims.
As he sipped the beer, his mind staggered for a moment as he wondered who was mean-mugging him across the bar. He didn't even recognize his reflection in the mirror anymore. Although he was still in his thirties, he had grown old, gone through several more life cycles than most people do. He was bitter. Restless.
War was the only time the world made sense to him. Putting boots to asses was the only satisfaction he
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