It is a well-known fact that where there is water, there is life. The Arbroath skyline served to attest this certitude; the rooftops of the shops and houses within Dakari's view danced by the light of the moon to the frantic tune of the cloudburst, giving the coastal town's scenery a surreal quality that had already begun to ease his assiduous mental state as he had hoped.
The tiles of the Westport Pub's roof clattered underfoot as Dakari shifted his weight from one side of the apex to the other. It was well that the wind's contribution to the evening's symphony was tranquillo, else Dakari may have become unanticipatedly unperched and, shortly afterwards, a hell of a halcyon heterotaxis. Fortunately for him the rain had not made the bar-cum-hotel's tiles too slick and his boots easily found purchase on the steep slope.
Coming soon was the moment Anathkash Dakari had been waiting for -sunrise- and with it, the calming, warming sensation that would purge his soul of unrest.
At least that's what he liked to believe.
* * *
Earlier that day...
The pen lay on the bedside table, completely untouched as it had done since Dakari had arrived. He travelled light, carrying only a change of clothes and his wrestling attire with him as he toured the UK. The contents of the small backpack were neatly folded and separated by plastic carrier bags to avoid confusion when it was time to change as it would be impossible to pick out the correct raiment amidst the sea of black within. Black jeans and black t-shirt, exactly the same as he wore now, along with black pleather pants and a matching vest. His amateurish gear had earned him some unpleasant remarks from others in the locker room, particularly so since he wrestled in the same boots as he walked the streets in. New boots would come soon, he didn't want to wreck his Doc Martens after all.
At the instruction of Jody Monroe, Dakari had invested in a cell phone. It wasn't long before he realised his error, the device now meant that his employer was able to contact him at any time. Being contactable at all was something Dakari had never been comfortable with, which was why he didn't own a computer, PDA, or anything else of the sort. He didn't even have a fixed phone line at home, so the notion of telephone conversation was alien to Dakari.
Buying the phone in the first place was a learning experience. Walking into a phone shop with a clueless expression was apparently akin to wading into an AA meeting soaked in peach schnapps. The ordeal ended in Dakari walking out of the shop holding something that looked like a television remote with a television built-into it, feeling just as clueless as he had been when he'd entered. Irrespective of this the thing made calls, something Jody confirmed for him on what felt like a daily basis.
The pretentiously dramatic default ring tone alerted him to another such occasion.
"Hi Jody," he drawled.
No answer.
The ring began again, almost deafening him. Dakari's jolt of panic saw the phone thrown into the air. When it hit the wooden floorboards the ringing stopped and Dakari sighed with relief...
...until he heard Miss Monroe demand a response from him as the phone lay on the floor. He swore.
"I heard that!" Jody scolded.
"What? How?"
"Ever heard of speakerphone?"
"No," he muttered. "I don't like cell phones."
"They're a necessary evil. They also bring you out of the stone age, Dakari. You know I have two cell phones?"
Dakari paused for thought, trying to determine why anyone would ever want more than one of these awful creations. A futile attempt. "Why?"
"One's personal and one's business, obviously," she explained. "So I'm sure you can get by with just one."
"Okay."
"Do you know where you're going on Thursday night?"
"Yeah, I went to see it."
"Good. Just don't walk in through the front entrance this time, okay?"
He scowled at the reminder. "Yeah."
"Good. Listen," she began, the severe tone leaving her voice, "there's something else I need to speak to you about but someone's just walked into my office. It's important. I'll call you later."
The phone bleeped, presumably to tell Dakari that the call had ended. He remained silent in fear of the call still being connected, instead of simply picking it up off the floor and hanging up; he reasoned that answering the call didn't work when he tried that, so hanging up probably wouldn't either. The crash-course the salesmen had given him in the shop hadn't prepared him for speakerphone either.
Bastards.
Jody troubled him now, what did she want to talk to him about? What was so important? And who had come to see her, was that related? Questions began to flood his head now. Just when he was beginning to think he had this wrestling business in the bag. His match this week was against the two men he'd already beaten on his own and now all he had to do was defeat them again, only this time he had Grendel for support.
Why wasn't anything ever simple?
What did Jody want? It could've been nothing. It might even be something as simple as the matter of his boots, but Dakari didn't think so. This was something much more important. Something his career might very well be hinged upon. Hopefully not, though Dakari was never that much of an optimist.
A knock at the door snatched his immediate attention and thoughts of his career's impending doom fell behind in the list of Dakari's woes, overtaken by the need to know who this sudden visitor was and what they wanted from him. The polite knock came again as Dakari crept towards the door, staying low to distribute his balance and reduce the sound of his footfalls. He slid the bolt in the door shut with a tiny clik and a sense of relief washed over him.
This was short-lived. The door handle began to turn and Dakari jerked back from the door, using his hands to balance as he darted away in silence. He could feel his frenzied heart beating in his throat, his fingers pulsed with the flow of what now seemed like a mixture of RFNA and kerosene now roaring through his veins. The rattle of the door handle ceased and he heard a voice call out with a single word from the other side of the door.
"Sorry!"
Dakari hurried back to the door and pressed his ear against it. The sound carried through the thin wooden door well enough for him to hear the stranger walking away along the corridor. The bolt was slid aside and Dakari opened the door a crack, just enough to watch the woman try the next door along and walk into the vacant room. She was carrying a bucket and a mop.
He closed the door and sat with his back to it while he attempted to slow his breathing.
It was just room service.
