Shark of Spades

Business Partner

I waited for him two blocks away, confident that he would sense me somehow. He always did.

Jack  showed up seventeen minutes thirty-two seconds later, grinning. "Ah, how sweet. Waiting? For me?" He showed off his fangs in typical Jack  fashion.

I smirked, adjusting my sunglasses. "Get your ass over here, and hurry up. I'm tired of waiting."

"No, you're not," he responded off-handedly as he crossed the remaining distance between us and grinned.

I shrugged. "True." After all, you get used to waiting when you make a living observing everything around you. "You got the money?"

He laughed, the sound imitating sinister marimba tones. "Yeah, like I'd ever forget it?" He put his hand in his pocket, most likely fingering  his 40 percent cut, and nodded. One of the most important rules in the  Game: never take your money out, and never wave it around. Once it was in the pocket, it was invisible to the world.

Besides, I trusted him. Enough. I put my hand in my pocket, reassuring myself that it was still there, because it didn't just not hurt to be careful; being careful was the only way to live, and to stay living.

We stood for a second, me leaning against the wall and him just standing patiently, before we both started walking at the same time. When I  turned corners, he turned corners without missing a beat.

When I unlocked the door, we both did a shoulder check at the same time. When I went through the door, he followed, half a footstep behind. Then I  closed the door and locked it.

"What's for dinner?" he asked,  balancing delicately on a chair in the kitchen, like a butterfly poised on a flower, ready to break free at any moment.

"Whatever you're making." I sat down, in contrast, as un-daintily as possible and stared at him.

He scoffed. "You can take the sunglasses off, you know. It's just us."

I shrugged. "I'd prefer to keep them on."

"We both know what you're hiding."

I decided to change the conversation. "Where were you last night?" I crossed my arms, still a little pissed at him although I was constantly  fighting to keep all emotion as far away from me as possible. It would, after all, ruin my career.

He picked up on that, though, and smirked, replying with a simple, "Out." When I kept staring at him, he reluctantly added, "Getting this."

He pulled out a wad of cash, more than he'd won from the card game today. He tossed it on the table, never breaking eye contact. "Take it."

"No."

"Take it, Card."

"No. We've talked about this."

"Yes, we have, so we both know exactly how much you need this. Just take it, Card."

"You know that I don't accept charity, Jack."

"This isn't charity. This is me making sure that you're still breathing tomorrow."

"And that's charity." With finality, I pushed the money back across the  table, but he grabbed my wrist, his thumb gently pinning my hand.

"Take it."

We  held each other's stares for ten seconds, until he released my hand. I slowly grabbed the money, tucking it into my pocket without breaking his  gaze, less because I wanted to take it and more because leaving money out in the open was very near a cardinal sin. I stared at him like I was trying to say It's your fault that I'm taking this. You know that, right?

He showed the faintest trace of a smirk. Jack Flash did not smile; he grinned, he smirked, and he formed his mouth into other devious shapes, but he didn't smile. A smile guaranteed familiarity in a relationship dependent on mutual attraction, whether of friendship or a connection  more intimate, and Jack and I shared neither of those. We weren't lovers, we weren't friends, we weren't even really associates. We were mere business partners.

Business partners, that is, who happened to live together, at least temporarily. But there were no real feelings involved, no sense of protection or dependence or worry. We just  happened to occupy most of the same areas in most of the same times. Why he felt the need to fork over cash to me, I couldn't quite understand, but he had never let me refuse his help. He mentioned a secret, but I wasn't sure which one he was referencing.

We hadn't always lived  together, either. I moved to Chicago two years ago, and since then, we've only been sharing an apartment the past three months. It had taken me that long to, if not trust him, at least become convinced that he  wasn't going to try to kill me in the near future.

Then again, with a figure like Jack, you never knew. At least this way, we were both keeping our enemies close and our friends closer, for neither of us  could truly define the dynamic of the other.

And we probably never will define that connection until one of us turns up dead. That tends to end the friendship route.