Fascinating Villains

{34} - Natalia's Balls & Bar

I turn up the volume of my television, to stick my head inside my refrigerator. The disembodied voice of the newscaster reaches me thanks to my stratagem, muffled but audible.

"Hello, folks! Today is Saturday, December 9th, but I hope you are all wide awake for some news. On the front pages today, you will find that famous clothing manufacturer David Merc..."

I slow down the pace of my rummaging among the selection of food and beverages, momentarily lifting an eyebrow as I recognize the crooked man's name. 

The anchor keeps spouting out his script, "... was murdered last night at the Archie Goodwin International Airport."

I freeze, holding a container of cheddar cheese.

"... was on his way to board his private jet when four unidentified individuals seized him and shot him in front of more than a dozen witnesses."

I gasp softly, nearly whimpering as anxiety explodes in my stomach and detonates inside my chest. My breaths are uncontrollable and sporadic as I listen to the continuation of the news story.

"The situation is under close investigation by the GCPD, who have also ordered that no planes be allowed to depart until the four people who assaulted Mr. Merc are apprehended. In other news..."

I have exited my appliance, staring blankly at the torrent of news on my television screen.

So, he was following Cheryl's advice... Too late, though. Losing that supply cost him his life.

I toss the tub that protects my cheddar block onto the countertop.

Because of my actions, he is dead.

I cannot think like that, no matter how easy it is to blame myself. He chose this end when he became a criminal, surely. A man with influence and a long list of dirty deeds, rich with drug money, could have been targeted for any other reason. Maybe our actions did not accelerate his death...

I briskly yank the container of cheese open and rip out a chunk of cheddar from the corner of the brick. Shoving the dairy in my mouth, I march into my living room and turn off the television screen.

~

Twenty-five push-ups, fifteen crunches, twenty squats, thirty-five jumping jacks, thirty lunges, a slightly obscene amount of cheddar, three crosswords and twenty minutes of watching videos of amateur roller skating competitions later, I hop into a lukewarm shower.

Colin is picking me up for our second date at 2h45 PM, he is taking us to 'Natalia's Balls & Bar'. As disturbing as its name is, it is supposedly an "awesome" glow-in-the-dark mini-golf course, complete with a restaurant that obviously doubles as a bar.

While Colin and I joked about the establishment's name, and he attempted to convince me that I would enjoy an evening there, I peeked into his mind.

Foul Play recently taught me how to sweep a psyche to search for basic information, that might be stored in an easily accessible part of the brain without necessarily appearing in an individual's current thoughts or immediate consciousness. Lately, I have been practicing to reach fresh or frequently recalled memories.

Within a few seconds of digging, I discovered that the location is a recommendation from Scott, hence my agreement to go there. If our colleague likes that place, how bad can it be? I am no stranger to suspicious Gotham businesses, however I would not visit one on a date.

As I am patting myself down with my bath towel, intentionally confronting my naked body in the mirror, I hear my cellphone pinging through the door. I never bring my phone in the bathroom, it is force of habit to avoid the dangers of electronics meeting moisture or those of pernicious hackers contriving to obtain snapshots of my unclothed body. I leave the device out in the hallway in case of an emergency, though.