Loud

Chapter 16 - Happy to See Me?

Rob raced down the stairs to the plaza, where he cut around people, one eye on Mark's dark green cowboy hat, which bobbed over the inert crowds waiting at the crosswalk. Mr. Young knew months ago that Rob took photographs of Keating. Is that why Mark broke into the apartment? Somehow, Mr. Young must have hired Mark to search for them.

Half a football field away, Mark stared at one of the large television screens on the side of a building. An image of Vincent from the Gears loomed over the plaza. Dozens of people, preoccupied with their phones while waiting for the light, barred the way: a maze of suits, briefcases, and sensible skirts. Rob dodged startled faces and gained on Mark, who gazed at a new image, all the Gears, four stories high.

Why shoot Sylvester? Rob bumped a small child in schoolboy knickers. Not hard. He steadied the boy with his hand, and they made eye contact. "Gomen," Rob said, apologizing. Feeling rude, he ignored the mother and sidestepped several bystanders. He had fifteen feet to go. Before he halved it, Mark twirled around. A cocky smile vanished from his face.

"Expecting Nobu?" Rob pushed him.

Mark's gaping mouth became a smile. "I came for your exhibition. Happy to see me?"

"Cut the crap. You shot Sylvester." Mark's eyes shifted as if following movement, but if someone really was behind Rob, Mark knew enough not to give it away. To stop him from running, Rob yanked Mark's steer-shaped belt buckle hard. Mark flailed his arms like a man riding a mechanical bull. "They put you up to it, didn't they?" Rob said.

Regaining his balance, Mark leaped back and smirked. "No one put me up to anything."

"Then why shoot Sylvester, you bastard? Why shoot an old man?"

Pedestrians waiting for the light scattered. Mark kept his hands down. Not wanting to attract the police either, Rob lowered his fists. When the light changed, commuters streamed away. Still smiling, Mark crossed his arms. "All they wanted from me was petty larceny." He pursed his lips. "They took me a lot more seriously after the shooting."

Rob grabbed at his throat.

Mark ducked and warded him off with jabs. "I missed this about us."

The flirting was irritating. "Go to hell. You could've killed him."

"He wasn't in danger. I'm a trained sniper." Mark spread out his hands. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for shooting Sylvester. It brought us back together." He blew a kiss and danced out of reach. His hands ready to spar, he shuffled around like a boxer. "Slug me, go on. Sylvester was so damn cocky and suicidal. You like that about him, don't you, his cockiness?"

Rob took a step back. Getting arrested fighting Mark solved nothing, especially in conviction crazy Japan. Non-violence required enormous patience, stratospheric control, something he had to mobilize. Mark had information and sounded jealous of Sylvester. His smile glowed with more radiance than Fumiko's, so Rob laughed, the most manufactured, desperate laugh in a life full of them. He had to get Mark babbling. "Why intercept Nobu? What was that?"

Mark stopped jogging in place. He hooked his thumbs into the loops of his jeans. "I'm just trying to get ahead in the world. Your rock star pay is probably better, but mine ain't so bad right now."

"What are they paying you for?"

Mark shook his head. "You weren't supposed to see us together, but it doesn't matter. I'm supposed to contact you soon."

"About?"

He tapped the brim of his hat. "Don't know."

"Liar."